My, oh my. My delicious baby girl turns two today. I can scarcely believe how quickly the time is passing… and though I kid about her antics, she is a wonderful child. She can be a stubborn mule, but for the most part she is very sweet. Curious, talkative, charming, and very bright. She smiles a lot. She laughs like it’s gonna be her last one ever… she sounds like whatever it is that’s so funny is just KILLING her! I love that.
I snapped the first pic in this lineup just a few days before her scheduled C-section delivery. I had one with her brother, four years earlier (which was unplanned) and since the procedure was so easy and stress-free for me, and I healed so quickly, I opted for the same method the second time. If nothing else, they’ve got nice-shaped heads, these kids. The second and third pics are from within her first week… and the rest are just some of my favorite images I’ve captured during her short life thus far. Just look at how she’s grown!
That’s my baby. The baby I wanted so much to be a boy at first. Ultrasound said there’s a vagina and we were floored. “A girl? Really?! Are you sure? Um, what the hell am I going to do with a girl?!” But she arrived, early in the afternoon, all 7 pounds and 3 ounces of her, lily-white and blue-eyed. Amazing.
All told, she’s a lovely little creature. Walking and talking on the early side, and kinda tiny. Big, brown eyes like mine, with sweeping long lashes, like daddy’s. She’s a clever little monkey too. Sings all the live-long day… she counts as she’s climbing steps, or lining up grapes. She loves lollipops. And pasta. And French fries. She won’t drink milk anymore, but thank goodness for cheese and ice-cream. I wish she’d eat more at one time, but she appears to be growing perfectly well… I don’t worry about it. She continues to be a good sleeper, and though the naps are getting shorter, she’s happy to announce that she’s tired, and heads for the crib. Not bad.
Ava Scarlett, my darling girl… I can see that you’re well on the way to being a headstrong woman. We will fight. I will lose. But I wouldn’t want you to be any less than you are. I have such high hopes for you… for now, let’s just talk a whole lot more so I can know what goes on inside that funny little head of yours. You daze me sometimes. Your level of understanding of the things around you is truly awesome. You made me get more in touch with my sense of girliness, and now it would appear that I cannot resist a tutu. For you, or for myself. What a hip little kid you are! Cool.
Let’s keep singing our jazzy renditions of Pop Goes the Weasel, and make up silly rhyming songs about cutting off toes and baking them into pies. I love that you think those games are hysterical. I think you are hysterical. And who ever thought patent-leather shoes could be so much fun?
Happy Birthday, baby. I love you very much, my sweet peach. Je t’aime, beaucoup-beaucoup.
And thanks for not giving me stretch-marks.