Yesterday* you turned two years old. I still can't believe I'm saying that. Wasn't it just last week that you and I spent an intimate 31 1/2 hours together in labor?
Last Saturday, you had your second birthday party. In attendance (at your party, not your labor) were your Oma and Opa; Grandma and Grandpa; Grosse Oma and Grosse Opa; Aunt Lori, Uncle Jay, and cousins Kirsten and Jeffrey; Aunt Heidi; and of course Mama, Daddy, and Jacob. Quite a smaller party than last year - but also quite less work and just as much fun.
[The Babelfish just translated Grosse Oma into "Large Granny" - I hurt my tummy laughing so hard.]
You wore your new purple jumper over a white longsleeve onesie and white tights with your fuzzy brown thrift store Mary Janes, which have been your favorite shoes lately. Those and your boots. Any boots, especially with handles. You could walk around the house in your boots and snow hat all day, happy as a clam.
Pants optional.
Your Opa held you on his lap and snuck you sweets while your Mama finished making the cake. It was a white Betty Crocker box cake with homemade strawberry frosting. This was my first time ever making frosting or stacking a sheet cake, and thankfully, your Aunt Heidi supervised. Together, we made you a cake that was super tasty, and - by the way you shoved every last crumb into your mouth (and asked for seconds) - I'd say you approved.
This was your first real present opening experience. Sure, you've already celebrated two Christmases - barely - and one birthday, but this was the first time you were really old enough to get the hang of things. This was probably the first time you were encouraged to rip anything, and after you got over your initial, "Seriously? Just tear? I won't get yelled at?" you were off and running.
Nothing made me happier than watching the excitement on your cute little face each time you spied the next gift peeking out at you beneath torn paper. After opening each present, you wanted to unpackage and play with it instantly, which was super-gratifying for the gift giver.
If your audience "ooh"ed and "aah"ed, you did likewise, and it was the funniest thing coming out of your mouth. When you opened the dress from your cousin Kirsten, you wanted to put it on instantly, then walked around so proud of yourself, patting your chest, like, "Look at me! I'm so pretty!" And you were ;)
When you opened a card with no present (just that un-fun money stuff), you quickly tossed it aside and said, "Done!" which was hysterical. You sure you don't want it? OK, I'll take it.
When you opened your Aunt Ilse's card that played music, a huge grin spread across your face and you started bopping your head from side to side. I'm so sad the video of your presents stopped RIGHT before you opened this card!
Then came cake time. I was a little leery about you blowing on the cake with your cold after much throwing up the previous week (by me) from another infected birthday cake. So we took the candle off your cake and held it out for you to blow. The only problem was, you didn't realize how hot the little flame was and put your mouth right up to it, hurting your poor little upper lip a little.
But the hurt was immediately forgotten the moment you tasted your cake. You little stinker. Just the year before at your first birthday party, you were trying sweets and sugar and cupcakes for the very first time. Now you're an old pro talking about "Tate!" (cake) and eating seconds!
You have grown up so very much in this past year. You are tall and skinny like a string bean - like your daddy! Your little bald head is now covered with long, blonde hair. I'm so happy that I can finally put clips in it now, so there's no WAY you can be mistaken for a little boy like when your hair was short, no matter how much pink you were wearing.
You are funny and silly. You love to show off and make us laugh. You love to dance with Daddy and read books with Oma. You say, "I love you!" when we tuck you in at night, and it makes my heart melt when I think of how much we love you back. Sometimes you wake up at night, and I'm so happy for the chance to slip into your room for an extra hug and a kiss, to tide me over 'til morning. You are becoming affectionate. You give kisses freely and hug your friends when they leave.
You always think I'm talking to your Oma and Opa on the phone. No matter who it is, you ask, "Oma? Opa? Awake? Asleep? Home? House? Seeeeeee?"
Your best friend is your cousin Kirsten. You ask about her constantly, and so many things remind you of her. "See these boots I'm wearing? They're Kirsten's." Or, "See the pantry? We hid in there together and shut the door and knocked and giggled loudly until you found us."
OK, so you can't say all that, but when you point at the pantry and say, "Tay-tum?" Mama knows what you mean. It's amazing how much (I think) I understand you. With just a word, or a point, or a glance, I know exactly what is going on in that little head of yours. Where your train of thought is going or from where it has come. That's probably why you didn't feel the need to start talking...because Mama already understood.
Lily, I promise to always make an effort to understand. To give you extra hugs and kisses and your "ra-ra-ra-ra" (pacifier) when you need them late at night. To listen when you're trying your hardest to tell me something and I just don't understand. To laugh when you're running around in your bib, snow hat, and rain boots, all of which you've put on yourself just for my amusement.
You are an amazing, sensitive, sweet, fun-loving, inteligent, busy busy busy little girl. You can't know how much I love you or how blessed I feel every day to have you in my life.
Much love, Mama
Read last year's Letter to Lily
*This letter was started December 20th...but things got a little hectic.
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