Letter to Anna: Month twenty-five

Dear Anna,

You've become such a big girl this month and I think that one of your new favorite phrases exemplifies your life right now, “I do it all by myself!”  You’re learning at lightning speed how to do so many things all by yourself and are growing into your adorable personality.  You thrive on accomplishments and love to try to new things and be just like the big people in your life.  You’re goofy, witty, funny, and snugly, with a dose of sass thrown in, and 100% perfect.

We've kept busy outside of the house while I’m on maternity leave with regular play dates, story time at the library, and a Tumble Bees class at the YMCA.  It’s good for everyone if we’re able to get out of the house in some capacity each day, even if it’s just for a quick walk around the block or to play hopscotch in the driveway.  The organized classes we attend are fun for both of us, but have made me realize just how shy and tentative you are in new or somewhat stressful environments.  Although I know you have a shy streak and really need personal space, I (naively) assumed that because you were in a daycare setting that you’d naturally come out of your shell a bit quicker.  As part of your overall personality, you’re a perfectionist, very deliberate, and extremely thoughtful in all you do and every action.  This was exemplified at Tumble Bees when you’d cling (literally) to me until halfway through class even though I was there every step of the way as all parents were encouraged to participate.  I knew you’d worked on most of the equipment in the room at school, but you became VERY nervous if another child was too close to starting the same activity, or if you felt rushed.  It was SO hard to see your little hands, legs and arms tremble with fear.  We've stayed after each class to work on the activities where you succeeded and needed help, talked to your teacher, and work together on some of the skills at home.  I’m mentally and physically exhausted after each class and it’s heartbreaking and humbling to know that I want you to shine like I know you can, but cannot do it for you.  

With your tentative and shy personality comes a heart of absolute gold.  You are one of the most caring people I’ve ever met and I love when I notice that an action is something you've seen in me.  You routinely pat me, your Dad and your stuffed animals on the back softly and ask “alright?”  You rock your babies so sweetly and gently, give them a kiss, and then cover them “just so” with their blankie before putting them to “night night” in your new toy crib.  You are usually the first at Charlotte’s side if she starts to fuss and will tell her “it’s alright, no cry baby Char, I on my way” and will pat her leg or arm.  I bought you a plastic bowling ball set last weekend and the pins are decorated as caterpillars; the first time your Dad rolled the ball and got a strike, you looked like your Milo had just died, you were so sad.  You ran to them and gave them all hugs, horrified at this new game and I’m pretty sure you thought your Dad had turned into a monster.  And, if I've raised my voice for any reason (usually related to asking you to do something for the 100th time) you have the innate ability to come over, put on your million dollar smile and say “Hi Mommy,”making all of my cares melt away.

You've started talking up a storm this past month.  You’re starting to form sentences and speak very clearly with excellent enunciation; this where you thoughtful and deliberate nature helps you a great deal.  I understand about 95% of what you say on a daily basis.  I almost fell out of my chair when we were waiting to see the doctor and you told me “Mommy is sitting on blue chair” almost clear as day.  Just like most toddlers, you have three volumes: loud and louder, and ear-piercing.  It’s a challenge at times, especially when Charlotte is cat-napping, but there’s no way I could ever  be mad when I hear that true sound of excitement and wonder as you discover something new.  You say so many things that I love, but my favorites this month are “Hi guys (or everybody)” when you enter a room, “Hello down there ...” (to me as you were climbing to the slide at the park or at home on the stairs), “I like ...” (this is used for everything from ice cream and cupcakes to people – today you told me you liked our babysitter who’d just been over), “Brrrrrr, it’s too cold” (imitating something you saw on TV), and “I love you, Mommy” (melts my heart every time), “Hi Daddy Daddy!” (said very quickly and usually multiple times – its a “thing” you guys do), “That tickles” and, “That’s fun”. 

We've had a lot of fun at home with some new toys, new games, and settling into our new routine.  You love to play with your “bouncy balls”, love to be outside playing on your slide, with bubbles or outside chalk (as you call it), ride your bicycle (the tricycle that we push), and generally run around.  It’s a challenge to get both you and Charlotte outside when I’m alone because you’re a bit of a flight risk, but we do a lot of family walks and you love to be outside with your Dad for any reason. 

You love being a big sister and love your little sister so much, it warms my heart each day.  Ironically, though, you’re the imitator at this stage.  Just as Charlotte started rolling over, you immediately wanted to join her on the mat to roll yourself, you’ve commandeered her Bumbo chair, love to sit a spell in her bouncy chair, think her five toys are loads more fun than any of your thousand.  One time and one time only, I noticed that you moved (slid) Charlotte off her activity mat by a few feet; I was in the same room, but had turned away and it was a reminder of just how much you love your sister (you were showing her a toy), and what a watchful eye you both still require. 

Ann Landers said, and your Gigi has told me no fewer than 1,000 times, “It is not what you do for your children, but what you have taught them to do for themselves that will make them successful human beings” and that may be the hardest lesson in my life that I ever have to learn.  More than anything this past month I’ve wanted to push you outside of your comfort zone and I’ve seen you melt down and tremble with fear the few times I’ve tried.  I want the best for you, of everything in life, but I can’t force it.  I cry at the thought of you not living under my roof, not getting to see you each day or give you a hug.  But if you’ve taught me anything, it’s that you’re full of surprises, and just when I least expect it you’ll be the center of a group of kids and will be running full throttle at your own speed, and I can’t wait to settle in and watch the show. 

Love, 

Mom