tonight, we kissed you goodnight on the last day you’ll ever be two years old. someday you will understand the bittersweet process of saying goodbye to a year of your child’s life, but for now you sleep and dream, just as it should be. this time of your life is like the magic hour – you’re old enough to have full conversations with us, giggle, laugh and cuddle and you’re still too young to be too “cool” for mom and dad or realize how lame we are. we know our days are numbered in that regard, so we hold these days close.
this past year has gone too fast, but i suppose this will be a recurring theme in your childhood. it seems to pass in a blink of an eye and it hurts while simultaneously making my heart burst with pride and love for the person you are becoming. you are so silly, so unique and surprise us every day. you are brilliant and beautiful inside and out. most days, i’m left in complete awe that i am lucky enough to be your mom.
i know i say this all the time (but i’ll never stop), but you are a complete and utter joy to know. your excitement about life in general is contagious and felt by every last person you come in contact with. i know you are going to grow to be an amazingly independent and incredible person, and your daddy and i could not be more proud of you, and to be your parents. thank you for all the happiness you bring to our lives – you are truly one of a kind and our favorite, most prized thing in life.
hold your own,
know your name
and go your own way.
- jason mraz
dear Harper,
this saturday you will be two and half years old. i tell people all the time that you are two and a half but each and every time, i still can’t believe it as it exits my mouth. how on earth can this be? how have you been here for two and half years? as often as i beg time to slow down, it just keeps going.
these days you are what you’ve been since day one – funny, spunky, full of character. your spirit is unstoppable and is felt by everyone you come in contact with, from friends and family to strangers passing by. you have a special gift that cannot really be explained, it has to be experienced to fully understand. you know what you want, when you want it and while at times that can be challenging, it’s who you are and i really admire that. you make every single day brighter and more full of life.
sometimes as we sit together eating breakfast and having a real conversation, i can’t even believe you are ours. what have we done to deserve such a peach of a kiddo? whatever it was, i’m so thankful. i know time will only go faster, you will only get older, bigger and more amazing. i hope you always know and never forget how loved you are. you can be anything you want to be, do anything you set your mind to, love anyone you want to love. you have a very bright future ahead of you and we are so proud and honored to be your parents.
this blog is for you. i hope someday you can look back on all my ramblings and see how much you have always been loved. see that women can do whatever we set our minds to, learn as we go, change our minds and grow to be successful no matter what paths we take. i promise to nurture whatever dreams you have as my mom always did for me. this world is truly yours for the taking. do not let anyone get you down. and if they do, get right back up, brush yourself off, smile and keep going.
this saturday, we will get up early and walk for babies. babies who need our help, parents who didn’t get to celebrate half birthdays, and hope that with our collective efforts more birthdays will be seen. i hope we can instill in you a fierce desire to help others and be kind always. we will come home and celebrate as we have on your past half birthdays. happy two point five nugget.
in those first few days and weeks, your hands were my favorite. long pink fingers, mostly curled up into little balls, except when i would squeeze my way in there with a finger so you’d wrap them around mine and hold on for dear life. every so often you’d stretch them out, but always to come back to the little fist. you slept with your fist by your face. we’d put tiny little mittens on those hands so you wouldn’t scratch yourself – they seemed to have a mind of their own.
as the weeks passed the most you could do with those hands was attempt to get them into your mouth. they’d be used for comfort and still used for grasping any finger or brightly colored toy that came into your line of vision. you were getting used to these hands of yours, but still, couldn’t connect your mind and them to create anything but a fist.
weeks turned to months and your hands became the explorers. helping you reach, helping you scoot, helping you sit. they grasped toys so you could jam them into your mouth, gumming them to soothe the pain of the big mean teeth fighting to get through. they’d reach out when you wanted to be picked up. slowly but surely, those hands starting talking to your brain and doing what you wanted them to do.
grasp your blankie for comfort. touch the dogs fur. try to grab the spoon from our hands and feed yourself. pat my arm. clap.
move with purpose.
i remember when i was pregnant with you, casual conversations at the grocery store, with co-workers, baristas – all mothers – and they would all warn how fast it goes. “she’ll be grown before you know it”, they’d say, a look in their eyes that was a little pained but clearly warm – a look that showed years were flying through their mind at that very moment. “enjoy it all, it flies by”, they’d say, with a look that showed sorrow, but also much happiness. not having a clue what they meant, i’d smile and rub my belly with one hand – subconsciously willing it to not happen to me.
today, i watch as your hands do things for yourself that used to be my job – put food in your mouth, put the cup to your lips, brush your little teeth. i watch as you play pretend with your toys – take a little bunny, put it in a little chair, feed the bunny pretend food. your mind not only connects with your hands but it helps them dance, creating a magical world that i could only hope to understand.
today your hands move with purpose, where they used to fumble, wobble, move in time with your unsteady head. it’s heartbreaking for a mother, but in the most beautiful way. it is now that i understand what those womens eyes were telling me.
keep learning, little one. i hope your hands, and heart, always move with purpose.
she just wants you to know she likes cottage cheese, her daddy likes football, the light in her eyes is kinda funny, and fish is still pronounced bish. also she wants you to know her spoon is orange and she’ll see you soon.
Harper,
