I've Loved You Three Summers Now, Honey

Photo by Shamblen Studios on Unsplash

Dear Daughter,

This week you turn three. For as much anxiety as I’ve exhibited in other areas of your life this year (I’m looking at you dance class and school), you might expect me to be in a puddle right now, but I’m surprisingly okay. Trepidatious, but okay.¹

Last year, at the turn of your second birthday, I struggled mightily with the jarring transition from baby to toddler, but this year just feels like a continuation on the familiar path into toddler land (as familiar as that path can be).

While toddlerhood has not always been smooth sailing, what I have loved about this year is watching your personality develop and shine. It’s been a joy having a front row seat to watch who you are unfold. I love all the things that make you, you.

The way you can recite all the Fruits of the Spirit and all the words² to Ludacris’s rap in “The Baby Song”, as you call it.

The way you work words like despicable and impossible and residue into conversation.

The way you cock your eyebrow ever so slightly when you’re acting mischievous or telling a joke, a mannerism you’ve had since you were a baby.

The way you want to make cookies for your friends when they’re sick or pack juices for everyone on a playdate.

The way you employ conversation starters around the dinner table like you’re a camp counselor around a camp fire.

The way you want to reenact everything that happens, as soon as it happens, reversing roles, so you get to be the mommy in the situation.

The way, when we’re playing pretend, you stop and ask in a serious voice, “are you little or big?” so you know who you’re dealing with.

The way you love to be chased and when I don’t have the energy to chase you, you conciliatorily offer, “you can just walk and chase me.”

The way you hide under your covers every morning when I get you out of bed or behind your hands when I retrieve you from your carseat.

There are a million things about you that I love.

Before I became a mom, I worried if there was any joy in parenting, because all I heard online were the negative aspects of parenthood. And while I knew my friends loved their kids and knew instinctively I would love mine, even when I longed for my own, I didn’t know if it would be an obligatory kind of love or the voluntary kind. But I’m here to say, I not only love you, but I like who you are. Being your mom is so fun. Even on the days when I’m exhausted, I hope you know how much I enjoy you.

Unwittingly, as I’m writing this, it’s your actual due date. I remember this day three years ago, having all my i’s dotted and all my t’s crossed, hoping and praying for you to make your debut. I curb walked. I bounced on an exercise ball. I drank the teas and tried all the tricks to get you out, but you just weren’t ready. I spent the next few days twiddling my thumbs, wondering if this would be the day my life finally changed.

I can say with certainty I have not sat and twiddled my thumbs since, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. You have kept me me on my toes since the moment you made your arrival. You are a force and I thank God every day for entrusting me with the gift of your life.

You have a spark and a tenacity the world needs and I can’t wait to see how you bright you shine.

Happy birthday, my sweet girl.

My friend Chelsea did a Mommy and Me photoshoot last May and these are some of my absolute favorite pictures. I’m going to need updated ones soon because she’s already changed so much 🥹

1. We’ve already begun dipping our toe into three-nager waters and I’m slightly terrified, but as I’m wont to say, it’s prolly fine.

2. And by all, I mean mostly all. For the words you don’t know, you move your tongue back and forth really fast and it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.