Friday, October 11, 2013
Dear
Emma,
You should know that you are the first thing I think of when I wake up. I
get very sleepy at night, so you may not be the absolute last thing I think of
when going to bed. But rest assured, there are thoughts of you when I
wake up to pee. Or when I hear you on the monitor. Touching,
yes. Your father thinks you hung the moon. And will randomly say,
"Look at this baby girl..." It couldn't be more clear that most
everything we do, we do it for you. (and to pay for the house)
And
the monitor. How I love watching you sleep in whatever weird position you
fell asleep in. Your cheeks shining brightly on the screen. Though
for the past 3 weeks we've been monitorless, I have slept a deeper sleep
without knowing you were talking or rolling about in bed. Thanks be
to God and to Motorola Customer Service for taking their sweet time locating
the very product that is sitting in the Target across the road. Hashtag
first world problem. But now we are back in business, and I can hear your
breathing because you have the snot of forty seven men.
I love your lips when you pucker them out. For no reason, or for the
reason that I'm doing it to you. How, for the most part, I can make you
laugh in the middle of your tears. You started saying Mama again the
other night and the warmth flooded my heart like a wildfire in the middle of
Africa.
I
love that you walk around with your arms up because you know in your heart of
hearts that someone is going to pick you up. Regardless of the moment later
that you want back down. You know that you are loved beyond reason and
cute beyond words. You lay on the laps of your teachers so that they
can't pick up any other kids and you give them the proverbial hand to the face
when they do. You've stolen the hearts of everyone at Parkwood, and your
friend Gabriel welcomes you to class with a hearty "Miss P."
Because that's what the school director calls you. It's like your own
Driving Miss Daisy movie every day you're there.
You also like to walk around with socks. And you stick some of your
favorite things in the drawer under Nana's memory candle. I hope someday
we don't find food in there, cause we sure don't check its contents. You
push the limits of gravity and objectional forces. Meaning, you don't
care if an object is blocking your path. And you'll climb on
anything. I am waiting for the day that I find you on the dishwasher door
climbing your way to freedom.
Your
favorites include Goldfish, though we try to limit your exposure to the baked cheddar
delights. I think they are baked with crack and not cheddar. You
love pumpkin fruit bars from Trader Joe's, green beans, avocado/guacamole, the
world's best beefaroni and stir fry chicken. You picked up Daddy's
cup the other day without anyone noticing and then tried to drink out of it,
which made for a holy crap moment. Thankfully you're still a milk, water,
formula and mommy milk virgin. As much as I have wanted to slip you some
Fireball in a sippy cup some nights when oh my God the tantrums.
I
can't wait for you to get big so we can do more activities together that don't
involve me banging different shapes together in hopes that one will catch your
interest. And I want you to be small again, so I can hold you like a baby
without the pouty screaming get me off your lap now like happens these days if
I try to hold you like a baby.
I hope that you embrace all that life has to offer. I hope you work
towards your dreams. I hope your dreams don't involve inordinate tattoos,
piercings and a boyfriend named Blade. I hope you like soccer a little
more than dance. Not counting my chickens on that one, given your
tendency to bust a move to Fisher Price tunes. But regardless, I want you
to be successful and happy in whatever you want to be successful and happy
in. You are becoming more of who you will become every
day. Your Daddy and I are still learning what that means for
our Emma. We hope it's someone who is kind and caring, confident and
humble, smart and sensible, faithful and fearless. Well, I hope those
things. Your Daddy just wants you to be a Daddy's girl forever and ever.
Love you Sweet Cheeks, now and always,
Mommy
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