one year + six months with alice

Posted on 20. Nov, 2011 by Princess Lasertron in alice

Dear Alice,

This month you are eighteen months old–what a milestone! I expected the eighteen month point to be a benchmark–you know, most parenting books have a chapter dedicated to 18-month-olds, for good reason–but you change so much every day, week-to-week, that I’m finding this month to be less of a “stop” on the continuum of growth than part of the path for the runaway train into chaos of toddlerhood.

You’ve had a very fleißig month. The right word is escaping me–busy, energetic, observant, hardworking, exhausting, but positive–my mom just said “monkey see, monkey do.” You go every day until you crash–no breaks, no laziness, no relaxation. Just questions, copying, and so much running. So much pointing and asking. So much climbing. So much falling. So much persistence. So much focus.

When it was just your dad and me, we called each other “bee” as a term of endearment. When we found out you were coming, we started calling you baby bee. Sometimes parents find out that the pet names they call their children become a self-fulfilling prophecy about their temperament, which is why I think maybe we should have been more careful with that nickname. Maybe we should have called you “sweet obedient puppy” or “tidy little churchmouse.” You. Are. Bizzy. And you have a temper.

My favorite part about watching you grow up is seeing your personality bloom–getting to know the little person I made and learning about how unique and special you are. Watching how you act, learning about what you like, seeing you make decisions for yourself and wondering “How did you come from me!?” You’re very dry. A little sarcastic, maybe even rude. And not like, “toddlers don’t know about manners,” but, like, judgemental. Like, laughing hysterically when we talk about something we don’ t like, or when another kid does something embarrassing. Instead of saving for college I’m just going to save for your therapy.

You also like to make us laugh on purpose and you’re very creative with your jokes. You love to do funny faces and pull the corners of my mouth into squawking monster lips.  Today you strutted with this weird new walk into the living room and walked past me with a pair of earbuds in your ears, the connector dragging on the ground behind you, looking at me sideways. I laughed so hard. You nerd.

What else is new?

• You know how to put your coat on and fasten the velcro to close it.
• You know how to find all of your apps on my iPhone and iPad (your favorites are Farm Friends, Angry Birds, and Baby Apps).
• I can tell that you’re kind of judgmental…a lot of inappropriate eye-rolling at other children at Kindermusik.
• You have a case of the mommies lately, clinging to me a lot more than usual.
• You love to tickle people (and you always laugh the hardest).
• You love monsters–monster noises, monster walks, talking about monsters.
• You take your clothes off when you wake up and whenever we come home from being out–first the jacket, then the shirt, then the pants. Diaper and socks only.
• You will take your clothes to the laundry basket which is awesome.
• You can pick out your own clothes–”Alice, bring me a pair of pants you like. Bring me a shirt.”
• You’re becoming the master of manipulation, knowing how to act around all of the adults in your life to get what you want. I’m the softest, grandma is the toughest. (She didn’t just fall off the turnip truck.)
• You like pop beads.
• We try to speak German around you as much as we can at home.
• You love your animals and the compassion you show for your soft plushy friends warms my heart. When you close your eyes, smile, and softly rub noses with Fred the Caterpillar, Pinkbear, Frank the Cat, Halloween Kitty, Necklace Kitty, and so on down the line, it makes me feel like I am doing something right in the world.
• You love berry tea. I showed you how to stir it.
• I’m surprised by how tidy you are–you always wipe off your markerboard, and you love to sweep and vaccuum, wipe surfaces, and dust.
• You refuse to be pushed in the stroller now.
• But luckily you are a good hand-holder.
• You hugged me the other day when I cried.

Right now you are going through your first cold and you are finally, for the first time, a crusty-face snot-nosed kid. We’ve been combating it with long naps in mama’s warm, dark bedroom, lunches in bed, some vitamin c, snuggling and nursing, and lots of warm baths. You still have lots of energy–you’re not sluggish–you’re just napping more and cuddling more. You are so healthy. I’m sure it’s because of all those times I let you lay down on floors in restaurants and grocery stores to have a tantrum. It isn’t hard to see you sick for the first time because you are fighting it so well. The slowdown in pace has been nice for us both–just baby apps, netflix, hors d’oeuvres, and naps for the last day.

Every night I take a shower after you go to bed. Our bathroom and your bedroom share a wall. I think the sound of the water going through the pipes sort of soothes you at night, and it’s my time to relax too. I use the same shampoo as your grandma–my mom–and while I was washing my hair the other day I was thinking about her, and wondering what she was thinking 24 years ago when she was in the same place as me. Standing in a shower at night, with a sleeping baby in the other room, maybe thinking about the long day that had just come to an end. Maybe feeling grateful for the time alone. Maybe already planning the next day. She was a new mom, and a new wife. She went to college like me–you know, she’s very smart–and graduated and just began her life, like me. The role of “mother” is so complex. We are someone to our husbands, we are someone to our children, we are someone to our friends, and we are someone to ourselves–we all have an identity that is personal and private. Lessons we have learned and not shared. Problems, questions, and victories we have kept to ourselves. Wishes and goals that we are saving.

When I became a mother, I learned something that my mom has known for 24 years–though I have “selves” that are personal between your dad and me, my friend Shannon and me, my cousins and me, and between us, as a mother I have the privilege of guiding your own identity and knowing you and your true character on such an intimate level that you might not even be aware of it. You might not even understand the depth of love and pride I have for you, and that is the honor of motherhood. The honor is standing behind you as you change and learn and have private experiences and thoughts that will be only your own, but that I will know you the longest, and that we have a connection and a relationship that will never be lost. From you, to me, to my mom, her mom, and all of our mothers, the cycle goes on and never ends of love passed down.

I love you.

Mama

Tags: alice, letters