one year + four months with alice

Posted on 30. Sep, 2011 by Princess Lasertron in alice

Dear Alice,

Hello my bright little bean. My sweet tiny friend. This month you went on your first big road trip, started sleeping in your own big girl bed, and had your first fever.

Every month when I write my letters to you, I tend to return to the theme of promises–things I vow to give to you, or teach you. These promises are things that will help you learn about and love the magic in the world, develop your confidence and self-respect, and hopefully show you a glimpse of who your mother is and how the many experiences I have had growing up have contributed to the Mama you know. Right now I’m writing this letter as 25-year-old Mama, a young woman with a new toddler and a messy house and a business downtown. You are becoming very blonde, a little stubborn, and you love your books. Tonight you went to sleep with your Baby Animals book by Gyo Fujikawa. You don’t say anything except animal sounds–”meow,” “woof woof,” and patting your head for “Monkey” and opening and closing your pursed lips for “Fish”–but you understand everything. Everything.

alice's first trip to the zoo

at mama's work

gold glittery brush

For better or for worse, you’ve reached the inevitable point where you want to copy every action and emulate the behavior of your dad and me.  Not only emotionally–when I am happy, you are happy, when we are arguing or terse, you become agitated and loud–but also in your routines and behavior. For example, I have been wearing a lot of makeup lately because I’ve had more meetings and business dealings than usual in the last few months. As you stand at my feet or sit in the bathtub in the morning and watch me wash my face, moisturize, brush powder over my cheeks, and apply lipstick, your intent focus on what I am doing has not been lost on me. You’ve started demanding to be included in this routine by outstretching your open hand and saying “Ha?” which usually means something like “me too,” or “let me do it.” I oblige, applying lotion to your cheeks, letting you hold your hands under the running water, and you even have your own tube of lipstick that you pantomime applying. You also have a set of gold glittery brushes from Grand Catherine, my very glamorous grandma, and you know how to use them.

At first I had some uneasiness about your interest in makeup. Your dad and I are trying so hard not to deliberately “gender” you. After all, he and I have very non-traditional gender roles. Not because it’s something we ever discussed out loud and agreed upon, but because we just aren’t that way. When we met and got to know each other and fell in love, we knew that we just weren’t that way. We won’t be the parents teaching our kids that certain colors are for boys or girls. We won’t protect you from getting dirty or discourage you from being energetic. We won’t be the parents teasingly asking if you made a boyfriend on your first day of school. So when you take this big interest in makeup, it did give me pause for a moment. I wondered if I should encourage you to play with it, to give you your own brushes, but I know that you just want to be included in what I am doing. I will never ask you to accept what someone else says is best for you. Whether it’s how boys and girls are supposed to act, what you’re supposed to study in school, who you’re supposed to love, where you’re supposed to live–25-year-old Mama is telling you now that all I want for you, all I want you to learn from me, is that your life is your own experience to make sense of. You only get one and your only purpose on Earth is to be happy. It is that simple.

This month I want to tell you how important it is to avoid preconceived notions about how things are supposed to be.  When we are young, we are such blank, impressionable canvases, and we learn how to make judgments about people, places, and ideas from our parents. The opinions and views of your father and I will help shape your fears, your dreams, and your beliefs about what kind of person you want to become. Your dad and I promise to carefully examine ourselves as we interact with each other, as we react to situations, and as we behave toward each other and consider the power we have to influence your mind. It’s a big deal to be responsible for the upbringing of a human being–you could live a hundred years and be such a gift to the world, such a light of hope and good will for others. Long after your dad and I are gone, and long after we are finished raising you, you will be making your own decisions as an adult, formed from the foundations of your experiences in our home.

This month you had the fun experience of taking a little family trip up to St. Paul, Minnesota where I was teaching a class at a conference. It was a business trip but we made it a fun trip. Aunt Shannon and Emma came with us, and Grandma and Grandpa came too. We all drove up over two days and stayed overnight at the lake house. We spent an entire day at IKEA where you toured, on foot, the entire store under the patient supervision of Shannon. You learned how to go up and down the escalator in the hotel with Grandpa, and you were happy to do that for about an hour every day. You ate croissants for breakfast and WhoKnowsWhat for lunch, and came home after a week very happy to see your dad, who had a busy week too launching his video game company Slouch Couch at Omaha Startup Weekend. He is amazing.

testing chairs at ikea

We also moved a twin bed with a little trundle into your room, and you officially sleep by yourself in a big girl bed. You adapted so quickly–at the first sign of sleepiness we take you to your room, put you in pajamas, sing to you, and lay you in bed. You look up at us, wide-eyed, clutching a stuffed animal or a book tightly in each arm. You sleep in a little nest, surrounded by a wall of pillows on each side and nestled in with your favorite animals that  you insist on gathering around you. There are rarely tears, and dad wakes up each morning to the sound of your sweet little chatting noises across the hall. I stay up late working, so I try to sleep in as late as possible.

What else is new?

• You are sleeping in your own big girl bed now each night, but you are still nursing in the morning when you crawl out of bed, down the hall, and into our bed to wake me up.
• You’re tough. You get over things so quickly.
• You’re getting pickier with your foods.
• You and dad both got sick last weekend for just a day–you recovered faster than him. I think your immunity system is amaaaazing.
• 10-11pm is bedtime now, down from the 1 or 2am of months past. You’re also waking up earlier which is sort of hard on me. My schedule is still the same–I haven’t been able to fall asleep any earlier.
• Your favorite book is Little Mouse, the Red Ripe Strawberry, and the Big Hungry Bear.
• You love jumping off of things into our arms–and sometimes not into our arms. You say “ahhhh, ahhh, ah!” with the same inflection as “one, two three!” and then jump. If we can’t run to catch you then sometimes we have tears, but you get over your little spills pretty quickly.
• You can indicate “yes” and “no.”
• You love Yo Gabba Gabba more than anything ever.
• You’re starting to pout and feel bad when you are told “no” or someone speaks sharply to you.
• You are interested in fastening buttons in buttonholes, zipping and unzipping, and untying ribbons and shoelaces.
• You don’t like high chairs anymore, but you sit happily in booster seats or at your tiny table. I think you just want to feel like you’re eating like everyone else.
• You are becoming more of a picky eater and you shake your head “no” and whimper at most foods we offer you. You won’t eat anything you can’t feed yourself. Except at Grandma’s house where you are apparently perfectly behaved.

nervous about the lake

floating in spirit lake

snipping roses at grandma's house

alice's friend the goat

We are so proud of you, Alice. You are smart. You are brave. You are independent and you are beautiful.

Love,
Mama

Tags: letters