Thursday, January 26, 2006

18th Month

This should have been posted sometime between a flu, an ear infection or a dry heave. I'm not sure which anymore.

Dear Sarah,

You've been out in the world with us now for 1.5 years. I honestly have a very hard time clearly remembering you when you were a baby. Truthfully, I also have a hard time remembering what I had for breakfast this morning and my phone number, but this level of forgetfulness is different from the haze of your babyhood. Breakfast items and digits are unimportant. Your entrance into our world was monumental and not something that dreamlike images can satisfy. I want to smell you and hear your baby cry. It just seems to have all vanished so quickly. You're now a full blown toddler with interests and ideas of your own.




You've reignited your passion for the balloon. We make so many trips to Trader Joe's for their free balloons that it's getting to be embarrasing. Now, you don't want just any balloon. You want a "ret balloon" or a "lellow balloon". Sometimes, you want "two more" balloons. You love to tease us about how you're going to "POP!" the balloon with your feet. There was a day when your dad took you to get a balloon, and it accidentally floated away up into the sky. I can't tell you how many times you've told us this story. Yes. You actually tell us stories now - recount the happenings of the day.



At dinnertime, you give me a full rundown of who picked up all of your friends from daycare - their "mama" or their "dada". When I ask who picked you up from daycare, sometimes you let me know that "Muk" did. Somehow, you figured out that your dad has a name other than daddy, and it's "Muk" to you. My name is still "mama" or "mommy" or "AGHAHGAAA!!!!".



Besides loving to chatter, you love playing outside. Bikes are endlessly fascinating to you. You haven't quite figured out how to pedal yet, but you can push a bike forward and backward. You also learned how to swing yourself on a swing. I haven't found a slide that is too big for you yet. Last weekend, we went to the park. There were a couple of 4 year old boys who were hesistant to go down a curved tunnel slide. While they stood up there thinking about it, you got frustrated, squeezed past them and launched yourself full-speed to the bottom.



When we're stuck indoors, you amuse yourself mostly with everyday items - a bag of lemons, piles of laundry, blankets, the egg timer, the broom, spoons and bowls. Of your toys, books, purses and stuffed animals get the most use. When I break down and need to get stuff done, I'll let you watch Sesame Street or Barney which you love. When I want to watch your dad's temple throb, I put the "Sound of Music" on, and you dance around in circles to the music. At about this time, your dad gets really twitchy and finds an excuse to go outside.



Sweet Sarita, in these letters to you, I never feel like I can fully convey just how much I love you and how incredible I think you are. There are no words to describe this level of adoration. When I pick you up and you pat my back and say "my mama", I just want to squeeze you and never let go. Thank you for filling me with so much joy.



Love,
your mama

2 Comments:

At 12:41 PM, Blogger NCD said...

Is Sarah picking up your Texas accent!?! ("Muk")

It sounds wonderful out in your direction, except for the puking and all.

 
At 9:39 AM, Blogger J Fife said...

N - It is great out here - when everyone is healthy. I've seen enough projectile vomiting to last me a while. Hope all is well in New England!

 

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