My Dearest Ducky W,
I’m glad last month was such a fun summary, because for the past 4 weeks, I have done nothing but sit and swell, while you’ve orbited around me like a Tigger on Crack. Kid, if you’re not killing me, you’re killing me. I’ve tried so hard to continue doing fun things, but in my heart, I know I’m moving at half speed, twice the size. To make matters SO much worse, we:
(1) Moved your crib into Kelly’s nursery, but kept you in it.
(2) Ripped your room apart to paint and prepare for the Big Girl Bed.
(3) Got rid of the paci. Out of sheer necessity when you started biting them into pieces.
For parents who used to joke that if a butterfly flapped its wings in the Amazon, you wouldn’t sleep, the above is a shocking recipe for disaster. Parents everywhere are gasping at the sheer insanity of changing this much in a toddler’s world at once. There are North Korean Nuclear Risk Plans with less intensity. Finally I called the mattress store and “calmly” explained to the nice salesman that if a twin mattress did not arrive at my house by 7 pm, a lethal dose of hormones would shoot out of my eyes and burn his store to the ground in seconds flat. Try me. I’m 9 months pregnant with a 2 year old…seriously, try me.
And so last night the impossible began: bye bye crib, hello Big Girl bed. There you played, in the dark, gleefully exploring that bed for 3 hours. There must have been 80 places to sit your “ice wa wa”, because you tried every spot, twice. At one point I found you completely stuck in between the footboard and the mattress with your chin resting on the footboard, not making a sound. After 3 hours of pleading and begging you to lie down and close your eyes, your Daddy stepped in and got you to sleep in 10 minutes. I’m not sure I can forgive you just yet.
Looking much like we did when you were a tiny baby (like death on a stick), your Daddy and I were intensely discussing what we would do when you tried to get out of the bed this morning. Would it be safe? How should we handle it? Blah Blah, my God we overthink everything blah. And into the bathroom you walk, with this expression that seemed to say, “What the hell am I doing in here, and what is the meaning of all this?”. The three of us broke into a much needed fit of laughter. Problem solved.
I thought this month I would be endlessly writing about our last month with just the three of us. I thought I would cry over the keyboard, trying to explain my pain around the realization that you will never remember the 2 years we’ve spent, just with you. Every second, about you. My overarching fears that when Kelly arrives, the bond will break and you will never forgive me. And I think this morning, when you strolled into the bathroom and plopped on my lap, it hit me: life is a continuum. It doesn’t start and stop, it flows. Kelly joins our merry band (which we WOULD be if we could get some sleep), but doesn’t take away from it.
August 2005
And so here is what I tell myself: deep in your heart, you’ll always know. You won’t remember Gymboree classes and Mommy adventures and silly time with Daddy, but you’ll know. You’ll know that your story began with just us, and that after we gave you our entire world, we gave you something even better…a sister. A comrade. A partner in crime. A nuisance. A person who will share your blood and steal your sweaters (go cry to your Aunt Jenny, WHO stretches out the cuffs of sweaters, but will play that story differently for you). It’s going to be an adjustment kid. But as I said to you in our worst nights of sleeplessness…scream and cry all you want, I’m in your life. We’re going to do this thing together come hell or high water.
June 2006
And it could be worse…you could be the cats. The once ridiculously worshipped and now lucky to get fresh water….cats.
It’s going to get a little crazy in a few days, so just remember, you’re stuck with us,
Mommy & Daddy
May 2007
