Dear Samaya,
Yesterday you turned 'free.' When you looked in the mirror, you said, "Mommy, but I don't look bigger...? I assure you my love, you are. Countless times a day I am amazed by your eloquence, your mastery of sisterhood, your sudden and shocking ability to identify and write (write!) all 26 letters of the alphabet. I told your father the first time you crawled to get that pencil on the floor you were going to be a writer. Looks like you're serious.
You started the day with your favorite breakfast of blueberries and yogurt and unwrapped your presents from Mama and Daddy. You got Press Here by Hervé Tullet, some other stuff, and HULA HOOPS! It turns out that hula hoop was actually all you really needed in life. Now to get my money back...
Our car broke down so strawberry picking got scratched. Instead, we made your cake while Violet napped. Then we walked to the river with a picnic lunch and had a lovely afternoon playing in the water. We should do that more often. The hula hoop came with us of course, and you flagged down a number of passersby so they could have the awe-inspring opportunity of observing your mad skills. You even got to play with Mora at the playground. Grandma came for dinner (you didn't eat it) and birthday cake (you did eat that). It was quite good, actually. Very good for a grain free, sugar free masterpiece. We kissed you and hugged you and snuggled with you a lot. When I asked what your favorite part of your birthday was, you said cake. Then you asked if you could do your hula hoop tomorrow. I said sure. (I was feeling indulgent).
Today we had a sweet little party for you outside. There were giant bubbles, spray bottles filled with paint, mud pies, a piñata, yummy food, strawberry cupcakes, thoughtful gifts, and- most importantly- dear friends. We are blessed, truly. You enjoyed the paint tremendously, as did my left pant leg and most of our guests' clothing. I even remembered to join in the play. I may have even made your friends giggle. (Isn't that one of a parent's highest achievements?) When I asked you what your favorite part of the party was, you said, "The thing you bang."
We'll leave that one alone for a while. I just want to say that I am extremely, impossibly far from being a perfect mom. I may make my own hummus and serve pineapple-mint infused water, but I'm not fooling myself. I know I have a long way to go. I also know my love for you is perfect. And you. YOU are perfect. I hope you grow up to believe that with every cell of your being.
Happy birthday to the one who made me mama. I will always be indebted to you.
Yesterday you turned 'free.' When you looked in the mirror, you said, "Mommy, but I don't look bigger...? I assure you my love, you are. Countless times a day I am amazed by your eloquence, your mastery of sisterhood, your sudden and shocking ability to identify and write (write!) all 26 letters of the alphabet. I told your father the first time you crawled to get that pencil on the floor you were going to be a writer. Looks like you're serious.
You started the day with your favorite breakfast of blueberries and yogurt and unwrapped your presents from Mama and Daddy. You got Press Here by Hervé Tullet, some other stuff, and HULA HOOPS! It turns out that hula hoop was actually all you really needed in life. Now to get my money back...
Our car broke down so strawberry picking got scratched. Instead, we made your cake while Violet napped. Then we walked to the river with a picnic lunch and had a lovely afternoon playing in the water. We should do that more often. The hula hoop came with us of course, and you flagged down a number of passersby so they could have the awe-inspring opportunity of observing your mad skills. You even got to play with Mora at the playground. Grandma came for dinner (you didn't eat it) and birthday cake (you did eat that). It was quite good, actually. Very good for a grain free, sugar free masterpiece. We kissed you and hugged you and snuggled with you a lot. When I asked what your favorite part of your birthday was, you said cake. Then you asked if you could do your hula hoop tomorrow. I said sure. (I was feeling indulgent).
Today we had a sweet little party for you outside. There were giant bubbles, spray bottles filled with paint, mud pies, a piñata, yummy food, strawberry cupcakes, thoughtful gifts, and- most importantly- dear friends. We are blessed, truly. You enjoyed the paint tremendously, as did my left pant leg and most of our guests' clothing. I even remembered to join in the play. I may have even made your friends giggle. (Isn't that one of a parent's highest achievements?) When I asked you what your favorite part of the party was, you said, "The thing you bang."
We'll leave that one alone for a while. I just want to say that I am extremely, impossibly far from being a perfect mom. I may make my own hummus and serve pineapple-mint infused water, but I'm not fooling myself. I know I have a long way to go. I also know my love for you is perfect. And you. YOU are perfect. I hope you grow up to believe that with every cell of your being.
Happy birthday to the one who made me mama. I will always be indebted to you.
'to the one who made me mama' <3
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