House of Estrogen

Letter to Addison, Age 7

Dear Addison,

You turned seven last month. We celebrated with a gingerbread decorating party at home. I tried desperately to convince you to do a party outside the house - Ice skating! Bounce house place! Taekwondo! Manicures! Build-a-Bear!  You would have none of it. You were determined to have a party at home, so I relented. It was fun... chaotic and crazy, but fun.

Your insistence and never-back-down attitude about the home birthday party is pretty typical of your temperament these days. You are strong-willed and not shy about it. That will serve you well in a board room some day. Right now, it can be a bit draining for your parents. You and Nina are the stubborn soul sisters.

As you entered first grade, we crossed our fingers that the transition would be smoother than your transition to kindergarten which had been pretty traumatic. Things certainly went better, but it was still really tough on you. I think you are just someone who is very sensitive to change. Change is hard for you, and it takes you time to adjust to new classes, new camps, new situations. It isn't a bad thing, it is just part of what makes you you. I am starting to think that a traditional calendar school might be a better fit for you. Tracking in and out of school (9 weeks on, 3 weeks off) brings on a rough transition period every time. It is hard to get your behavior back in line after we track in or out of school. Overall though, school is going well. You like your teacher, and you are cruising along fine academically.

You enjoy reading. A couple of your favorite books lately have been Mercy Watson Fights Crime by Kate DiCamillo and The Princess in Black by Shannon Hale. You have some good friends both in and out of school and still participate in Daisy Girl Scouts and book club. You love to ride your bike and scooter.

The biggest change in your life in the past year has been your participation in Taekwondo.

When you first approached us about doing Taekwondo after a track-out camp field trip, I assumed this activity would go the way of others you have tried (T-ball, cheer, dance, and soccer). Your typical M.O. is to enjoy the activity for the first few weeks, tolerate it for the rest of the season or session, and then quit.

 

I never imagined that Taekwondo would have the impact on you that it has. It has made you a better Addison. I think you needed and craved the structure and discipline of martial arts. It just works for you. All of the tenets of Taekwondo are incorporated into the classes - honor, courtesy, integrity, self-control, perseverence. You are picking up all of that. Your first grade teacher told us that she noticed a difference in your respect and courtesy toward her after you started doing Taekwondo. We notice it at home too.

You are dedicated, determined, focused, and happy working toward your goals at Taekwondo. It is not an activity I ever would have chosen for you, so I'm so glad you found it and pursued it on your own. It is a good fit for your soul. I hope you will continue in Taekwondo for a long time. It has been such a great influence on your life.

I hope seven will be a good year. You continue to challenge us as parents, but you continue to bring us smiles and joy every day too. You talk all the time, giving us all your seven year old observations on life. I love your thought processes.

I love you,

Mama

Letter to Addison, Age 6

Dear Addison,

Today you turned six. I asked you if it felt different to be six. You said, "Yes. People sing caroles to you, and they don't do that on other days. Also, it feels older. When I'm a lot, a lot older, I'll be in first grade." I guess that about sums it up. We celebrated this morning with sweet rolls and bacon. It was a nice way to start the day.

You opened your gifts from all of us - a LEGO camper set, a stuffed Olaf, your first American Girl Doll (Saige), and your favorite - footie pajamas. You have been asking for those non-stop for weeks, so I was thrilled your birthday finally arrived. You have been carrying around a catalog with footie pajamas in it, telling me, "I'm getting these for Christmas." No matter how many times I have told you "They are on the list." or "Santa KNOWS about the footie PJ's" or "Got it. I remember.", you persisted. Then your dad decided to mess with me by regularly telling you, "Hey Addie, I don't think mom knows what you want for Christmas, why don't you go show her that picture?"  You are certainly diligent and committed to your cause. If I had to hear about those footie pajamas one more day though, I might have taken a torch to that catalog.

We celebrated your birthday with friends a couple weeks ago at the movie theater to see the movie "Frozen." That was a lot of fun. You loved having all your new kindergarten friends there.

Now that you have received your much coveted footie pajamas for your birthday, we have Christmas coming up next week. You have asked for, "A jeep that I can drive in like my friend W has" and "training wheels for my bike because mom won't let me have them, and I get scared." You won't be getting either of those. You know how to ride a bike. You've been able to ride for almost two years now. There will be no training wheels!

I wrote your 5-ish letter not too long ago, so I don't have too many updates since then. School is still going OK.... not great, but you haven't had another silent lunch, and you haven't been kicked off the bus, so we're calling that a success. Academics are fine. You are picking up reading and writing easily, and math is going fine. It is behavior that is still a struggle. We're definitely seeing improvement though. You now seem to average about one note home from the teacher per week rather than one day per week without a note. Baby steps. One day, you told me, "The bus driver gave me a chance today to sit without being buckled!" I said, "They have seatbelts on the bus?" You said, "Yes, the bus driver makes you wear it if you're wobbly, but she gave me a second chance today." I know the school buses don't have seatbelts as standard equipment, so I'm envisioning you strapped into some seat belt that is there in case a child with disabilities needs to be strapped in. In your case though, the bus driver used it to keep you from causing trouble! Sigh. Your poor bus driver. I think I owe her a big Christmas bonus. If your bus driver or kindergarten teacher retires after this year, I may feel personally responsible!

You're a funny little turkey and are always making us laugh. You make up songs regularly that you sing to yourself. Tonight, while you were supposed to be brushing your teeth, I heard howling coming from the bathroom. I said, "Addie! Brush your teeth!" You said, very matter-of-factly, "I was howling like a wolf", as if that was a perfectly logical excuse for not brushing your teeth.

We lucked into a great Girl Scout troop for you, and you are really enjoying being a Daisy. It is fun for you to finally get to participate in Girl Scouts after watching your sisters all these years.

You and Nina go to the extremes. You are either the best of friends or worst of enemies at any given moment. I love watching you together when you are friends though. In those times, Nina is so sweet with you, and you eat up the special attention. One day, I lost the two of you in the public library. When I finally happened upon you, you were curled up in Nina's lap while she was reading a book to you. It melted my heart.

Of course, Nina also loves using you as her own personal hair and make-up model. Here you are with a butterfly, spider, lady bug, bloody nose, and black eye, all courtesy of Nina.

Watching you shuffle around in your new footie PJ's tonight has made me wistful for your toddler days. You aren't a baby any more, but seeing you all snuggled up in footie pajamas reminds me that I'll always have you as my baby no matter how old you are.

Happy 6th Birthday, Little Bird!

Love,

Mama

 

Letter to Addison, Age 5-ish

 

Dear Addison,

I think some years, it may not matter much if a letter is written exactly on your birthday, or half-birthday, or a few months on either side. This year though, I could kick myself for not having my act together to write these letters in a timely manner. Early in age 5, I found myself frequently saying to myself, "I think 5 is my favorite age. Were the other girls this sweet and wonderful at age 5?"  I couldn't really remember, but I also realized that when Elise was five, I was also juggling a three year old Nina. When Nina was five, I was chasing after you as a toddler. Perhaps I was never able to slow down to appreciate and enjoy the sweetness of five with the two of them. With you though, I get to listen carefully to your funny stories about friends at school and watch in delight as your facial expressions are animated beyond your years. One of our favorite parts of age five has been your fascination with the question, "Will you get sick and die?"  It takes many forms, and we hear it almost daily. "If you put bug spray on your arm and then lick it, will you get sick and die?" "If you put your hand under your arm and then lick it, will you get sick and die?" "If you break the fan and electricity goes through you, will you get sick and die?" "If you lick cardboard, will you get sick and die?"  We never know what sort of "will you get sick and die" scenario you will come up with next. It makes me chuckle to see how your mind works and processes these things.

Five has been great. It has been all about going out to eat in a princess gown with absolutely no hesitation or doubt about the appropriateness of your attire,

mastering chop sticks with your own personal flair,

pouting in a princess gown,

eating ice cream at college basketball games,

starting to look and act more and more like your big sisters,

but still being in awe of Disney princesses,

all while being your mama's baby.

You are developing your own personal style at age 5. It is part Elizabeth Taylor,

part Singin' in the Rain,

and two parts cowgirl. You inherited a little Texas from me. I love that.

Age five to five and a half was nothing but fun, with your dad and I often exchanging knowing smiles and glances as we listen to you laugh or watch you ride your bike, or just gaze at you sleeping. Your last year of preschool was perfection. You had the best teachers ever, and you loved every minute of it. We were all sad to see preschool come to an end.

Then, five and half hit us like a mack truck. It came out of nowhere and knocked us to the ground. We still haven't quite picked ourselves back up. You started kindergarten at five and a half. Unfortunately, I think we had the completely naive notion that as a third child, the transition to kindergarten would be a breeze. You have been walking to the bus stop every morning since you were born. You have been to the elementary school countless times for talent shows, fall festivals, and science fairs. You know many of the teachers.  You had done great in preschool, and you were ready.

Or so we thought... we couldn't have been more wrong. Kindergarten has meant daily tummy aches, potty accidents, tantrums, and off the charts behavior problems. Those first few weeks, notes came home from the teacher every day, "Addison pushed a friend today." "Addison called a friend a poopy head." "Addison kicked all her friends in circle time."  You even ended up with a silent lunch by yourself one day. I think that is like the kindergarten equivalent of in-school suspension. You have a wonderful kindergarten teacher. She has been at the school for years and is loved by all who have her. She is a seasoned teacher, and I think you even challenged this veteran teacher's expertise. She sent home a note one day asking what sorts of discipline worked for you at home or in the past because nothing was working at school. Wow. You managed to stump the expert. Sadly, I had to write her back and tell her that absolutely nothing was working at home, so I could offer no help. You lost the door to your room one day after slamming it repeatedly. (It has since been reinstalled. You eventually earned it back.) The hitting, the kicking, the crying, the defiance... it has been so difficult for all of us. Your dad and I have waffled back and forth between feeling sad and worried that kindergarten has caused you so much stress and being at our wit's end trying to figure out how to discipline a tornado. Then there was the letter that came home from school requesting that you not wear your cowboy boots because with your "space issues", the boots were essentially being used as weapons.  Sigh.  That was a new low in parenting.

Thankfully, with immense patience, some help from a great parenting book ("Transforming the Difficult Child: The Nurtured Heart Approach" - I highly recommend it!), a lot of time, and many tears from both you and us, I think we have turned a corner. I never imagined this kindergarten transition would be so hard on you - both emotionally and physically. We took you to the pediatrician twice for issues that were both diagnosed as "stress".  What a tough year you have had.  I hope that now that you've gotten used to the kindergarten environment that you will find a way to enjoy it. You have made a few friends which helps. Yesterday, you told me, "M threw up, but she is still my friend." I like your loyalty.

Kindergarten should be a fun year, not stressful. We tracked out today, and while we are all ready for a nice three week break, I'm slightly terrified that we will go through the transition stress all over again when you track back in. If we have to go through what we went through the first six weeks of school, I'm not sure I will survive! Fingers crossed that things go better.

This summer has been a lot of fun. You played T-ball which was awesome. You had a bit of a love-hate relationship with the sport, but every time you got out on the field, you had a great time. You were the only girl in the league, but that didn't seem to bother you a bit. You brought a bit of fashion to the field with your bright pink glove and sneakers!

By the end of the season, you were ready for coach-pitch which made this mama proud!

You also learned to swim this summer, or to be more exact, you learned to swim this past weekend. You have been on the edge of swimming for the last month. You could do a few strokes but didn't have the confidence to really go for it. Then, at our neighborhood end of summer pool party, there was a coin toss. That was all it took. You were suddenly swimming like a fish! Who knew all it took was a coin toss?  I guess it is all about the motivation and reward. You swam around the rest of the day like you owned the place. Hilarious. Forget swim lessons. Just toss a few coins in a pool!

When I look back over the past 9 months since you turned five, I see high highs and low lows. You have taken us on a roller coaster, for sure.  We're slowly adjusting to it and learning how to enjoy the ride. I'd love to have a few months on a kiddie coaster without quite so much drama, but this may just be your nature.

   

You are a sweet, sensitive girl who is trying to figure out how the big world works and what your place is. That is a big job, and I'm sorry you have found it so overwhelming. As we move toward six and you start to feel more comfortable in kindergarten, my hope for you is that you can relax, have fun, and enjoy the journey. I'll help you however I can.

I love you, baby girl.

Love,

Mama

Letter to Nina and Addison

Dear Nina and Addison,

I've really dropped the ball this year with your birthday (and half-birthday) letters. I love the idea in theory... a letter to you every six months to reflect on your interests, your personality, how you are changing and growing, and how you make me smile and/or tear my hair out. My hope is that they will be fun letters for all of us to read in the future when some of those memories of you as children have faded. As much as I want these letters to happen twice a year right on schedule with your birthdays, life gets in the way sometimes. This year, you will get an "age five-ish" letter and an "age nine-ish" letter since your birthdays and half-birthdays have come and gone. I promise to get back on track for ages six and ten... or at least try to... or try harder. We'll see. Please know my intentions are good... I just can't always keep up with the follow through.

Love,

Mama

Letter to Addison, 4 years

Dear Addison,

This weekend you turned four. One might expect me to feel sad or nostalgic that my baby is growing up. I do feel that in some ways. For the most part though, we are absolutely thrilled that you are four because it means the end of three and a half. I could use those euphemisms that parenting books use to describe you like "spirited" or "strong willed", but your dad I have more often used words like "demon child", "the one with the horns growing out of her head", "YOUR child", and "the evil one". You have seriously given us a run for our money. We thought we had learned a few things about stubborn preschoolers through Nina. Apparently she was just the intro class. Now you have come along to really show us who is boss.

Your modus operandi seems to be "I am three. Hear me roar", and do we ever. The yelling, the tantrums, the obstinance, the defiance... you win the prize for all of it. We've resorted to the most off-the-wall discipline techniques like squirting you with a water bottle in the car when you won't stay buckled. I don't think we'll win any parenting awards for that one, but for right now, it is the only thing that works.

Perhaps we were too cocky and thought we had figured out this whole parenting gig after two kids. Clearly, we haven't. You have proven that.

So, now that you are four, can you give us a break from the 3.5 year old attitude? We're begging you!

Under all the spunk and defiance, you are a sweet, loving, wonderful daughter. You definitely keep us on our toes, but we love you the world over. You love to snuggle up to us to read bedtime stories. You give running hugs and forehead kisses.

Last week, you declared that I was the "best mommy in the jungle!"  (Yes, I know we don't live in a jungle, but I'll take the compliment anyway). Although you remind me daily that you aren't a baby any more, you will still cuddle up in my lap when you are tired.

Despite spending many hours being dragged between ice skating (Nina) and jump rope (Elise), you are starting to form your own interests too. You love to go hiking and biking. You make frequent requests for family bike rides.

You have enjoyed playing soccer, but we're going to take a little break from that. You try desperately to jump rope but don't quite have the hand/foot coordination thing figured out yet. You love playing with dolls, pestering Nina, stealing Elise's things, working puzzles, and running around the house like we've injected you with caffeine. You are a lover of all things Yo Gabba Gabba.

You have certainly made your place in this family. Although you push boundaries and test us to the extremes, we can't imagine life without you. You are our sweet baby girl, and I can't wait to see what changes age four will bring.

I love you! Happy fourth birthday!

Love,

Mama

Letter to Addison, Age 3.5

Dear Addison,

I’m a little late in writing your 3.5 year letter, but one is certainly needed as you have taken three and a half by storm. You are like a little whirlwind of energy, cuteness, determination, and spunk. You are caught in the battle between a fierce desire for independence and a need to be babied, and the winner of that battle is always on your terms. One minute you are taking off the shoes I just put on your feet because you wanted to put them on yourself. In the next breath, you are asking to be carried down the stairs. I’ll ask you to put away your towel, and you’ll politely say “Yes, M’am” while scampering away to hang it up. A minute later, you’ll  yell, “No! Mommy do it!” when I ask you to put away a puzzle. You are definitely a stubborn soul like your sister Nina.

 

Although you seem to be growing taller every day, you still have a cute, sweet baby nature to you. I hope you change classrooms at preschool before you start pronouncing your teacher Julianne’s name correctly. I just smile ear to ear when I hear you say, “Miss Joo-wee-ann” each day. It will break my heart the first time you pronounce that ‘l’.

 

The older you get, the more you play and interact with your sisters.

 

You and Nina especially have a lot of fun together. I’m never sure what I’m going to wake up to in the mornings. Sometimes you race in my room showing off your green fingernails or blue toenails courtesy of Nina. Other days, I’ll hear your distinctive, “I not your best friend!!” yelled down the hallway after your two stubborn personalities clash.

 

Elise mothers you a lot, reading you stories, helping you brush your teeth, or getting you dressed in the mornings.

 

You love to ride your balance bike, go on family bike rides, do puzzles, and look at books. Your favorite book right now is “If You Give a Cat a Cupcake.” There is a part where the cat dons a swimsuit, and you howl with laughter every time we get to that page.  You’ll race away with the book to show whoever is around “some-fing funny.”

 

You are a little sponge, soaking up the world around you which means you ask questions non-stop. Reading a book to you takes at least three times longer than it should because every turn of a page results in, “Mommy, I have a "kestion". What that girl’s name? Why that boy wearing a red shirt? Why that girl riding a bicycle? What that man's name? Why that boy not with his mommy?” It definitely takes a high degree of patience to get all the way through a book with you. I spend more time answering “kestions” than reading words on the page.

 

I'm pretty sure we could set our clocks by your biorhythms. You wake up promptly at 7:00 every morning, yelling, "Mommy! Can I get out of bed?"  You are the alarm clock in the house. At 6:30 every evening, one of two things happens. Either (a) you come to us, rubbing your eyes, saying, "I wanna go to bed."  or (b) you get completely wired and out of control because we didn't get you in bed promptly at 6:30.  It is like Cinderella at the stroke of midnight, but you are Addison at 6:30. We have to have you home and in bed or the chaos begins. 

 

As hard-headed and difficult as you can be with your tantrums and demands, at the end of the day, you are still my sweet little baby. Your "running hugs" and your snuggles with a sleepy head on my shoulder are my favorite parts of the day. I know I won't have those much longer, so it makes each one all the more precious.

Happy "free and a half" Addie!  I love you!

Love,

Mama

Letter to Addison, Age 3

Dear Addison,

I am a month late with your birthday letter this time. Sadly, with a birthday the week before Christmas, the most hectic time of year, I'm sure this will not be the last time this letter is late. The chaos of the holidays are not my only excuse though. I've been thinking about this letter since then, thinking about all the things I want to tell you. I'm having a hard time accepting that you are three. You are no longer a baby, no longer a toddler. You are all big girl, and you remind us daily with your very adamant, "I BIG GIRL! I in PRESCHOOL!" I'm just not quite ready for you to leave the baby and toddler phase behind, and that translated into my putting off writing this letter. You are three though, whether I like it or not, and I really am enjoying three. I just need to find a way to put a little closure around the baby/toddler time.

 

One day recently, your dad said to me, "Were the other two this cute at this age?"  Neither of us could remember. I'm quite sure they probably were, but it makes me sad that I don't remember. You guys are growing up too fast, and it is hard to remember all the little things. This letter will be about remembering... all the things I don't want to forget about your being three.

 

You say so many things that make us smile. Every time you say a word that ends with "ing", you make a funny little clicking sound with your tongue. You are completely unconscious of it, so I guess you just think it is part of the word. "Mommy, what you reading <click>?" "Daddy! Look! I sledding <click>!"  It cracks us up, but I know some day you will probably lose the click. I don't want to forget it.  I love the way you count too... "1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 11, 8, 9, 10, 11, 8, 9, 10, 11..."  The eleven serves as both a seven and an eleven, so you never get past it. We probably should correct you more often than we do, but it is just so endearing. I know you'll count correctly eventually. I'm in no rush for it to be perfect.

 

Then there are all the words you can't quite get right yet. We will forever call Goofy, "Doofy" after our recent Disney trip for your birthday, and Elise's poor American Girl Doll Ruthie is "Roofy". The word "your" is always "ors". You use that one so much that your dad and I have started using it as well. "Mommy, I play ors iPod?" "Daddy, you put on ors shoes." Once again, we should probably correct you, but we just love the sweetness of it. I don't think you'll drive off to college in "ors" car. You'll figure it out before then.

 

You are still in a very independent phase wanting to control as many things in life as you are able. When we go up the stairs, you tell me to wait at the bottom. Then, when you get to the top, you yell, "ONE, TWO, FREE, COME UP!" to grant me permission to continue up. Jackets, pants, socks, and shoes are all put on by you alone. You set your place at the table, get your own water, and serve your own food at meal times. You insist on opening and closing all doors which usually results in a big bottleneck in the doorway every morning as we all try to get past you with backpacks, laptops, and jackets.

You like to test how far you can push the control thing. Invariably, if you've asked me to help you with something, as soon as I start, you will say, "No! Daddy do it!" If you tell your dad that you want Cheerios for breakfast, as soon as he pulls the box out, you will yell, "No! I don't want that! I want Kix!" We don't let you rule the roost, but we do try to let you take that control in simple situations like going up the stairs one at a time. You get such satisfaction knowing that you were in command. You definitely like to consider yourself in charge 24/7 though.

 
You are a third child in every way. At age three, your sisters loved listening to the Wiggles, Laurie Berkner, or Roger Day. You, on the other hand, are a huge Beyoncé and Black Eyed Peas fan. Every time we get in the car, you request, "Mommy, I want Single Ladies. I single lady Addison." Then when I play your beloved Beyoncé , you yell, "Turn it up!", and you sing right along. You started preschool this month, and one morning, you packed up a tiny backpack with all your favorite books, blankets, and cars. Then, you put it on, walked up to Nina and said, "Look Nina! I got a pack-pack just like you guys!"

You are much more adventurous than your older sisters ever were, and that can be scary. Twice recently, we have caught you walking around the inside edge of the railing that goes around the top of the staircase. Both times, we didn't find you until you had walked all the way around and were probably 14 feet off the ground. None of the baby books tell you to babyproof the one inch wide ledge that goes around the stairwell. Who knew? Clearly, you have no fear of heights!

 

This month, you started both preschool and soccer. You are completely in your element with both. You love every aspect of preschool - the painting easels, the computer, the dramatic play area, the preschool playground. The transition was so simple for you, and I think you were really ready for a more challenging world around you. You are rarely ready to leave when I arrive in the afternoon to pick you up. We all miss seeing your old teachers, Mike and Mimi, each day. Mike still babysits for us a lot though, and you run by Mimi's room every morning to give her a hug.

You are having a blast playing soccer. Your sisters never played soccer this young, and I hadn't realized how cute three year olds look playing soccer! You love it.

You still have a fiery temper and can throw a wicked tantrum, but for the most part, we're finding three to be a fun age. We don't always have the patience to let you do everything by yourself, and we don't always give in to your controlling demands. This sets you off, of course, screaming until you are red in the face, but we get through it.

 

You are my sweet little muffin (or as you would correct me, "NO! I BIG muffin!"). Happy third birthday! I love you.

Love,

Mama

 

Letter to Addison, Age 2.5

Dear Addison,

Two and a half... Wow. Time flies. No, time does more than fly. It is like a runaway train. I'd love to stop time for moments here and there, but there is no slowing it. It just keeps barreling along.

 

You are so very two. Two is the cutest, most wonderful, magical time one minute and the most frustrating, aggravating grey-hair-inducing time the next.

There are days I want to slow time and keep you at two forever. There are so many things I love about you at two. I love the way you say "Oh Tay" rather than "O.K."  I love that when you want to say "I don't know.", you say, "I know?" in a questioning tone that somehow clearly indicates that you mean the opposite. I love how in the mornings when I ask you "one piggy or two piggies" about how to fix your hair, instead of answering "one piggy", you say, "no two piggy." I love the way you do a roll call of where everyone in the family is... "Daddy Snowshoe. Addie no shoe. Sissy no shoe.  Nina no shoe. Mommy no shoe. Daddy Snowshoe." I love the way you play music on a little toy and then exclaim, "Ice ceam shruck!!" I love hearing your little feet pitter pattering around the house as you chase your sisters. I love the way you call Dora the Explorer "Duh duh duh Dora", as in "MY duh duh duh Dora PJ's"  I love the thrilled look on your face when you jump to me in the pool wearing your little floatie, and then you swim to the ladder and climb out to "Do 'gin!" I love the way you'll walk from person to person with a crayon and piece of paper asking, "Draw mile fess" until someone realizes you're asking for a smiley face and draws it for you. I love your hugs and kisses. There are so many things I love about the two year old you.

Then there are those things that have me cursing time wishing it would speed up. "MY DO IT!!!" is the number one. I know you are expressing your independence. I know it is your way of separating from me and learning to do things on your own. I know all that. Really, I do, but do you really have to do EVERYTHING independently? Could you let me put your shoes on the right feet just once? One time? That's all I ask.. that I don't have to drop you off at daycare every day sheepishly saying, "Sorry... her shoes are on the wrong feet again. She won't let me switch them."  If I dare to put a shoe on your foot, you immediately take it off and put it back on with your very adamant, "MY DO IT!" I'm pretty sure I've never picked out the right bowl, cup, or fork for you. Even if I did pick out the one you wanted, you would throw it across the room and choose another one just to spite me.

"Independence" I remind myself, "Independence... it is a good thing."  Independence gets me off the hook for making lunch in the morning when Nina makes her own.  It has to be a good thing eventually, but right now, your battle for independence is a neverending source of frustration for both of us. I'll attempt the tried and true, "Offer a toddler two choices so that they feel like they are in control of the decision" method in the morning, giving you two outfits from which to choose. Invariably, you walk over to the hamper and pull out an outfit or simply yell, "BUNNY DRESS!!!"  Sigh. Why doesn't the two choices thing work on you?  As a third kid, are you already savvy enough to realize that you really aren't being given a choice when mom has already narrowed the choices to two?  Darn older sisters!

The great thing about two though is that for every time I bang my head against the wall over "MY DO IT!" or "NO MOMMY!!! DADDY DO IT!", you turn around and crank up the cuteness to make up for it. At the end of every day, seeing you peacefully snoozing in your bed always reminds me that time is going by way too fast. Two really is a wonderful, magical age, and I need to just enjoy the ride.

 

It is hard to believe this is my last letter to you as a toddler. In six months, you'll be turning three and starting preschool. I know I'll miss the sweet, wonderful, spunky "terrible twos" when it is all over. You are my little love. Thanks for being you, and thanks for the fun of two!

Love,

Mama

Letter to Addison, Two Years

Dear Addison,

You turned two yesterday. TWO! How can you possibly be TWO?  You will be my baby forever, but two just sounds so much more grown-up than the pre-two ages that are referenced by months. Now I'll be forced to count your age in years. That's tough on a mama. The difference between 22 months and 23 months seems trivial. The difference between 23 months and TWO seems monumental.

You are a spunky, independent, strong-willed little turkey. Of course, part of that just goes with the territory of being two. You are very good at being two. The stomping feet and full blown tantrums are all a part of your basic communication skills right now.

You've learned how to make yourself heard over the roar of your older sisters though. At the dinner table, you have discovered that saying "All Done." or pushing your plate away is often met with "Just a minute" or "I'll help you in a second" or absolutely no response at all. To solve that problem, you now stand up on your chair when you are done. As much as it drives me crazy, I have to admit, it is pretty clever. You instantly have someone rushing to your side to help you down from the table with that little trick.

Your verbal skills are coming along slowly but surely. Your sentences are rarely longer than two words - "More, please.", "Sissy hug.", "Daddy, sit.", or "Poops, potty.", but your language development is inching along. On the subject of potty training, we had absolutely no intention of potty training this early. I've always been of the belief that the earlier potty training is started, the longer it takes. I think you are going to force it on us though. You are asking to sit on it regularly now, and making a deposit at least half the time. You get furious if we try to put a diaper on you without letting you sit on the potty first. I suppose we'll tackle potty training after the holidays since you seem to be training yourself with or without us!

 

You had your first haircut last weekend. Your father had been threatening for months to take you to get it cut if I didn't, so I finally gave in. I know your curls won't last, so I didn't want anyone to touch them. You won't wear hair clips though, and I couldn't in good conscience let you go around with your hair in your eyes much longer.

Before picture:

During:

 

After:

You are still a daddy's girl. His injured knee has troubled you, so you point at it several times per day, declaring "Boo boo!" I'm sure he appreciates the reminder. In an attempt to fight the boredom that comes along with a knee injury, your dad has grown a goatee. You tell him "ouch!" when he kisses you. Good girl... mama has coached you well!

You are definitely a creature of habit. Maybe you get that from your grandfather who went to Starbuck's every day so consistently at 10 a.m. that you could set your watch by him. You go to bed every night at 6:30 and wake up promptly at 7:00.  On the rare occassion when we keep you up past 6:30, it throws your entire schedule out of whack.

When you walk down the hall at daycare, you feel compelled to shut every open door, every time, every day... no matter how much of a hurry I might be in. It is like the world might cease to exist right that very moment if a door is left open. MUST SHUT DOORS... MUST SAVE THE WORLD.  Your reading selections in the evening consist of two different books and one puzzle. Every. Night. If that caterpillar book that you love so dearly were ever to accidentally land in the fire place, I can't say that I would miss it.

 
 
Most of all, you are a sweet, fun, cute, funny little person learning to navigate your way in this big crazy world. Your hugs, kisses, and giggles make me smile even on my most challenging days.

I love you. Happy second birthday!

Love,

Mama
  

Letter to Addison, 18 Months

Dear Addison,

You are a full-fledged walking, talking, tantruming, inquisitive, fun, sweet, aggravating, wonderful little toddler now. You definitely keep us on our toes. If we set you down with an open bathroom door in sight, you race to it as fast as you can, stop at the doorway to see if we are watching, and then dash inside to start your mayhem. If a gate at the bottom of the stairs is left open, you are up the stairs in a flash. You clearly know what is off limits and like to test us. You'll pick up a small choking hazard sized toy off the floor, look right at us as if to say, "Check it out! I'm going to put this in my mouth. You gonna try to stop me? Cuz I'm doing it right now. Here I go. You can't get here fast enough!", and then pop it in your mouth, with great anticipation to see what we'll do.

You are communicating more and more which is just a delight to witness. You are most efficient when signing, and regularly use signs for "food", "more", "all done", "want a diaper change", and "want to go to bed", along with the sweet kisses blown at anyone and everyone. Your verbal skills are coming along slowly. You have mastered the names of most of the family - Dada, Mama, and Nana, but Elise's name was elusive until yesterday. You finally said "sis" which absolutely thrilled your oldest sister! We had told Elise that perhaps your verbal skills would improve once you got tubes in your ears since you would be able to hear better. She had high hopes that you would come right out of surgery saying, "Sissy" or "Leecy". We had to temper her expectations, but little did we know that just one day after surgery you would say her name. I have no idea if that is coincidence or whether you are actually hearing the 'S' sound for the first time. Regardless, Elise ate it up! 

Most of your other words are a bit multi-purpose. "Meh" seems to mean "milk" or "more". "Bah" is ball or balloon. "Bop" is "WOMAN! WOULD YOU GET ME THAT BOP THAT I DESPERATELY WANT RIGHT THIS VERY SECOND???? NO! NOT THAT ONE! NO! NOT THAT ONE! WHY AREN'T YOU GETTING ME THE BOP THAT I'M SO CLEARLY ASKING FOR???? HELLO!!!  I NEED THAT BOP RIGHT NOW!!"   Occassionally "bop" is something easy like "blanket" or "bottle", but often I fail miserably when it refers to "the tiny pink pig up on that high shelf hidden behind the stuffed elephant" or "the green block, not the red one, not the yellow one, not the orange one, in that ginormous pile of blocks."  I'll be glad when not quite so many things are so affectionately known as "bop".

Your dad has decided you are old enough for chores, so he has you helping empty the dishwasher on a regular basis. That is a hoot!  You have learned exactly where the kids' cups and plates go and where the tupperware cabinet is located. He hands you things to put away and you set off about your task. It cracks me up. You do a good job though, so I guess he is on to something. Maybe he can teach you to cut the grass next, and we can quit paying the kid next door to do it.

We've had several rough months of ear infections involving lots of screaming. That and, uh… more screaming. Did I mention the screaming? Just when I thought I might have to ship you off to live with a grandmother for a while, your doctor finally referred you for tubes, so we're hoping for smoother sailing from here on out.

You are still a Daddy's girl and take great delight at sitting in your carseat pointing at him in the seat in front of you, squealing, "Dada!! Dada!! Dada!! and laughing uproariously if he responds or turns around. When I try to get you to say "Mama" instead, you look at me with a bit of disgust like, "Where's the fun in that?", then humor me with a simple "Mama" and then go back to shouting "Dada" and laughing hysterically. Ahhh… feeling the love!

You can throw a tantrum with the best of them and have mastered the art of making your body completely limp, heavy, and almost impossible to pick up. Where do toddlers learn that?  You are tipping the scales at just over 30 pounds now, so when you don't want to be picked up or protest being buckled in the carseat, you are remarkably successful.

 

Most of all, your sweet, smiling face, and excitement about life are just infectious!  The hugs, kisses, giggles, and light in your eye far outweigh toddler tantrums and ear-infection-induced screaming. You make my heart smile.

You are a sweet girl, and I love you dearly!

Love,

Mamma