Dear Samurai,
I lost track of the last year. I didn’t mean to – I really had the best intentions to document your months as I did in year one but then the house got in the way and then No.2 happened and work got busier and on and on and on until I had enough excuses to fill up an entire swimming pool.
And, while there may not be a monthly letter to document everything we did in the last year, I can tell you we. had. fun.
After your first birthday I felt like you were so old, such a big kid. Looking back at photos from your party and from Christmas, watching those videos we took, I realize what a baby you still were! My gosh, you were still babbling and signing and it has taken me a whole year to see just how you’ve grown into what I see now as such a big kid.
We spent the early part of the year, you and me, with lazy mornings around the house. I don’t know how your dad and I got so lucky, but somehow we got blessed with a toddler who sleeps in. I had heard the horror stories of kids who rose before the sun but not you. You, my dear, will not rise before 7:30 – preferring an 8a call time or sometimes sleeping all the way past 8:30!
You are fearless, you are curious and those two characteristics combined made for a lot of bruises on your noggin and lost of heart stopping moments for me.
February found you expertly climbing out of your crib which then found you with everything removed from your bed (stuffed animals and bumpers) to take away anything that would give you leverage to get out as well as a baby gate in your doorway just in case you decided to escape at night – that barrier helped us all sleep a little better.
As the winter melted away to spring we spent more time outside, going on walks and enjoying the warmer weather. We visited the zoo and spent a lot of time at the indoor play park as well as the real park when weather permitted. You LOVED to “wee” (swing) and slide and jump on the trampolines. You were never really interested in children your own age, preferring to run around with the big kids who liked to help you, show you things. Anytime a child your age would come by to play with you you’d shriek and shake your hands at them like, “GET OUT!” A big kid would come by and you’d follow them anywhere, let them pick you up, you had found your people.
You are quiet and shy around new people. You’ll certainly talk when prompted but it takes you a bit to warm up to new faces. With those you are familiar and comfortable with you start to show off from the moment you know you have their attention. You’re not the kid who waves at everyone in the supermarket and you certainly don’t hand out your friendship cards to everyone you meet – I see so much of myself in you in that way. You are definitely reserved in your affections towards others, only opening up and showing the true Samurai when you feel comfortable in the situation/with the person/persons.
This summer you and I spent a lot of time at the zoo and at the pool. I don’t know if it was just because I was pregnant or if this summer was especially hot, but the only time I wanted to be outdoors was first thing in the morning (hence our early morning zoo trips!) or afternoons at the pool. Your love of the water surely continued this summer. However, this summer you were not content to float idly by in your raft. Your favorite things to do were to play on the steps (as long as the pool wasn’t busy) or to walk around on the ledge in the shallow end at GG and Mister’s neighborhood pool. You didn’t mind being splashed or going underwater and you LOVED standing on the pool’s edge and counting to three and then jumping in to me. You also loved to ride around on my back and blow bubbles. After our swim time we’d come home and I’d throw you in the shower with me because it was easier that way – leaning over a tub with my big belly was getting harder and harder. So you’d just sit there at the end of the tub, away from the spray of the shower head and play with the shampoo bottles, content to wait for me to suds you up and rinse away the day’s sunscreen and chlorine.
I was recently sorting your summer things – putting away certain things for this summer and packing away things that would not fit you come June. When I got to your little swimsuit, pilled and snagged on the tush from sitting on the concrete, I held it to my nose and breathed in. If I could assign a smell to last summer, it would be that swimsuit. It was mostly Coppertone Baby mixed with a bit of chlorine and worn out spandex…this summer with you, kid, was one of my favorite times with you during the year. After we’d swim we’d sit on the lounge chairs waiting for our suits to dry out a bit in the sunshine. You’d eat a snack and I’d sit there and marvel at what a big kid you were – that this was the last summer of just “us.”
Fall rolled around all too quickly and, with it, the countdown to No.2′s arrival. You accompanied me to every pre-natal visit during my pregnancy and were always excited to “Yisten to baby” and measure my growing belly with the midwife’s measuring tape.
We soaked up the fall weather while it was nice, we visited the pumpkin patch where you just ran and ran and ran. Such a different trip than the previous year when we were propping you up on hay bales and pumpkins! This year we could barely get you to sit still to have your photo taken!
At the end of October, earlier than we expected, you became a big sister and took to the job like a pro. I was worried about you, Samurai, I was afraid you’d be mad at me, at us for bringing this little baby brother home. I was afraid of dividing my time, of not giving you enough, and, like always, was pleasantly surprised in the end with it all. You were so interested in “Baby Bennett.” You wanted to know what he was doing (“Baby Bennett Doing?”) and you wanted to “Check a Bebo?” (check his belly button). When he cried you told me to “Check a diaper, mama?” or “Feed da milk, mama?” You give Baby Bennett your toys, you try to put pacis in his mouth (he doesn’t like them) and, when we’ve put him in the car seat to go and he cries, you kindly close the flap on the carrier cover like, “Here, this will fix it.” You kiss him on the head and tickle his feet. You want him to watch you eat your lunch and constantly remind me to put him in tummy time. Seeing your instant love of him was such a HUGE relief and only makes me excited for the year to come and obviously years to follow. I hope that the bond that you share with him will be a special one, a close one. Of course, I’m not totally naive to think that your relationship will always be sunshine and rainbows, but I can certainly hope.
Around Thanksgiving your dad introduced you to the movie Ghostbusters 2. As ghosts flew around the television screen I looked at your father and said, “When she’s up in the middle of the night, screaming about ghosts? YOU will be the one to attend to her.” Except you didn’t. You thought the ghosts were HILARIOUS. Since that day you’ve asked to watch “Ghossabussers” EVERY. DAMN. DAY. You LOVE it. LOVE LOVE. I don’t know what it is but it doesn’t get old for you, you laugh, you repeat lines from the movie – it’s times like these where, despite the fact that you look like me and act like me, your love of ghosts and “monssas” (monsters) is where we differ. I HATE scary movies, I hate all of it. At your age this type of movie would have given me nightmares.
This year your birthday was awesome. We built things up for you in the weeks leading up to your big day. We talked about blowing out candles and opening presents. And, of course, we started talk of Santa Claus and you were mesmerized by “Kissamas” decorations this year. You had two parties – one the week before your birthday with our friends and family and then on Christmas Eve with just our families. We had a spaghetti dinner that your dad expertly cooked and a rainbow cake. You got such a kick out of blowing out the candles on your cake we lit them twice for you to blow out.
Christmas this year was also a lot more fun than the year before. You were so excited by your gifts and exclaimed things like, “Dis cool, mama?” and “Oooh WOW!” I was afraid that after two straight days of presents the following week would be such a let down for you!
It’s amazing to me how much you changed and grew over the year. Your first year was so much about the physical milestones – growing and rolling, sitting up and crawling…then standing and walking. This year was all about the verbal developments. As the year progressed you started dropping more and more of your signs in favor of words. The thing that comes out of your mouth most often is “Is this?” (what is this?) and we’re constantly narrating what we’re doing, what we’re seeing because you’re so curious about everything. And then of course things would come out of your mouth and your dad and I would look at one another like, “WHA?”
When you wake from a night’s sleep or a nap I ask, “Did you have good dreams? What did you dream about?” 99% of the time you answered, “Yes. Monkeys.” “Really?” I’d ask. “What were the monkeys doing?” “Eat the banana,” you’d reply matter of factly.
You are stubborn – I’m not sure if it’s your age or a character trait but for all of your stubbornness yous should have been born a Taurus, not a Capricorn. You are HILARIOUS. You are kind and pretty easy going. You give hugs and kisses when asked, you LOVE your grandparents and aunties and uncle. You love animals and books. You love watching the Backyardigans and Wonder Pets, Yo Gabba Gabba and, much to my dismay have an insane love for Dora. Dora I could do without but you are nuts over her and, in the mornings when we go downstairs for breakfast you stand at the top as I go down and shout, “SING!” I must have at one point, in an attempt to get you to move a little more quickly in the morning, sung to you, “C’mon vamanos, everybody let’s go! Come on let’s get to it, I know that we can do it!” Now we cannot go down the stairs together unless I sing. You too sing along and funny enough you sing the Spanish part perfectly and jumble the English. Your version? “C’mon vamonos, Egg-a-go!”
I’m starting to ramble here, trying to remember and capture all of your little quirks – there’s not a blog post big enough for it all.
2011 was a big year for you, Samurai. It was certainly crazy – we moved, you got a little brother, you turned two – but it was by far a year filled with some of my favorite memories of you (which, I know. You’ve only had TWO years on earth so far, but bear with me, I’m crazy in love with all that you do!). There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t sit and stare at you in a quiet moment and wonder how we got so lucky to have you as ours. And then I get insanely sad that some day you won’t be “ours” any more. It hits me hardest at night before you go to sleep. We read our stories and then “shuggle” in the chair in the corner of your room. I sing you songs and rub your back and you breathe heavy sighs into my chest as you unwind for the day. It’s in those moments that I wish so badly that I could just freeze time right then and there – keep you little forever. I know that’s every parent’s wish but my god if it doesn’t kill me to think that this time, what we have now is so fleeting. (This letter has certainly taken a turn for the depressing, eh?)
You’re cherished, Samurai. You’re turning out to be such a lovely little thing and I’m loving it all so much. So cheers, baby girl. Here’s to year 3.
This is so so sweet. She is going to love reading this one day. She is a lucky little girl to have such an awesome mommy!!!
Beautiful! The section at the end snagged my heart, of course, but I was also incredibly touched when you were talking about your time together at the pool. Her little swim suit. Oh my.
O.M.G. my post-partum self cannot handle the beauty and truth of this post. < tear