It's 2:54 am, and your little brother is lying in my arms contentedly, post-feeding. How is it possible that a few months shy of three years ago, it was you on my arms, a tiny bundle of what-have-I-DONE?
Your entrance into this world three years ago marked a tremendous shift in my life. All of the sudden, this tiny, screaming, writhing, pooping THING was entirely dependent on me for all of its needs. And, sweet girl, it was difficult. But all that has already been documented, so let's fast-forward.
When you wake up in approximately four or five (please, PLEASE let it be at least five) hours, you will have existed what many refer to as the terrible twos, relatively unscathed. Sure, there was a bout of croup in there, along with a few scraped and kitty bites and scratches - nothing that a Finding Dory bandaid and some mama kisses wouldn't take care of. Essentially, though, your third full year on this planet wasn't so terrible. It was, in fact, terrific.
Two was:
- "I saw a buggie! I SAW IT!" A love of worms and ladybugs, paralleled with a fear of spiders and - wait for it - noseeums. You can't even SEE noseeums. What?
- "Me no want bad guy Tube." Your favourite foods included yogourt tubes (as long as they weren't the Darth Maul ones - way too frightening for you), apples, goldfish crackers, grape tomatoes ("bo-matoes"), any candy you could get your hands on, and Tim Hortons hash browns. That last item on the list may or may not have been fuelled by your mama's penchant for morning Timmies coffee runs.
-Click-clack-moo, pickles, "banana" and "les buddies", "Memo", singing the Paw Patrol theme song, nine months (and going) of potty training, the sugar bug teeth brushing song, your owl hat ("it spins!"), learning how to skate, pointing out as many Bobcats as you can when we travel, Busytown, cowboy boots, Corduroy Bear, "me want Jesus and kisses and a hug."
-Purple. Purple EVERYTHING. Even a purple Christmas tree!
One of the most astounding pieces to your two year old puzzle has been your emerging discovery of faith. I'll never forget the time that Grandma came downstairs after putting you down for a nap, wondering why you were relentlessly asking for Jesus. "Does she have some kind of stuffed Jesus?" Grandma wondered (and who could blame her? You have about a million stuffies on your bed.) Nope, you wanted to pray. And pray you do, every night, rattling off the names of people you saw that day: "Dear Jesus: thank you for Mommy, and Daddy, and Macklin, and Auntie Tanya, and Maggie, and Auntie Tanya, and Maggie, and Auntie Tanya..." Dear daughter, I pray that this seed of faith takes deep root, and that your belief in and trust in a loving, merciful God carries you through life in a way that your mama and dada are not humanely capable of doing. I will fight for you; I will support you, strengthen you, nourish you, and love you, but where my human abilities end, God's endless graces are there to carry you in ways you'd never dream possible.
The sunset of your third year saw us welcome your brother into this world, which made for quite an adjustment period for all of us, but especially you. A few weeks before M was born, I felt like I was mourning our family dynamic; no longer would we be three, but four. When baby Jesus (as you so fondly referred to him in utero) punched and kicked his way out of my uterus and into this world, you were unimpressed to say the least. Daddy was SO excited for you to meet your baby brother, but you took one look at him upon entering the hospital room, jumped up onto the foot of my bed, and demanded to be read to. It took a few weeks, and now you are highly protective and loving of your Baby Mack, your sweet Mackanee.
No matter the size and dynamic of our family, you will always be my sweet baby Loops, the tiny bundle of holy-crap-what-have-I-done that increased the size of my heart manyfold, a la Grinch. I still carry you to bed in my arms (thank you, CrossFit) but I know as you become increasingly independent, those days will quickly become fewer and fewer. So I hold on tight, thinking: "I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living, my baby you'll be."
Love,
Mama
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