mighty messy mama

Nursery Rhymes According to Daisy

Happy Birthday Daisy

credit: Gina Clyne Photography, http://clients.ginaclyne.com

Dear Future Daisy,

Today is the day after your 3^rd birthday, capping off an exciting week in which you: 

1. Stepped solidly into full-time, chonies-wearing, little girl-hood. After a year of the two-steps forward one-and-a-half steps back boogie, we’re pretty much, almost one hundred percent sure that it’ll stick.
2. Attended and rocked your first ballet class. You dove right in like a champ. You did not hesitate. There was no pensiveness. You wiggled and pranced, not always at the teacher’s prompting, but no big deal. You were visibly  tickled and thrilled (so giggly) to be doing something you love. You were charming and silly and executed first position, tendu and even an arabesque or two (we’ve been practicing that one for a while). 
3. Reveled in being the center of attention on your birthday. You don’t often get that designation – center of attention – and because there’s not an excess of Daisy-time in our world, it was something of a revelation to see how YOU lit up when the candles were lighted. Your little face was ecstatic and completely comfortable in the spotlight. Later, when you woke up around midnight calling for me it was to ask groggily, “mama, is it still my birthday?” I leaned in to whisper that we would have one more little celebration with papa, meema and cousins later in the week.  

For as long as you’ve been able to say the words, you’ve been on a one-kid mission: “I can do it,” muttered (and shouted) countless times a day, sometimes with a combination hand-shove to me or daddy. On the surface, you have NO IDEA how it tries the patience. Basic tasks (tooth brushing, putting on your shoes, sitting DOWN at the table to eat a meal instead of standing on the chair or lying down under the chair or planking across the chair or kneeling on the table), are all activities that may or may not be things you are interested in doing at the very moment I ask you to do them. There is just no way to predict. These are all decisions that you take seriously and also treat as an ongoing ever-present test of our parenting mettle. On the other hand, you know it’s all a game. We see the sparkle in your eye when you refuse a task. Your attention span for Chutes & Ladders or “Spill the Beans” is negligible, but you can play toddler mind games with much more dedication that anyone else in the family. You want nothing more than to be near us. All of us. In fact, that’s the only bargaining chip that works one hundred percent of the time. If you think you’re going to get left out or left behind, you will comply. We know we’re probably weeks if not days from your calling our bluff. You are the kid who notes out loud that we are all together, that we are a family, that we’re all eating dinner! Together! As a family! On a day-to-day basis the constant negotiation can be exhausting. Secretly, in my heart of hearts, I love that you go your own way and are developing independence. It’s also kind of scary. Some nights you don’t want a kiss from me or a hug from daddy. You have been very angry with me and shouted (with convincing fury) “You’re not my mommy!” Then, later, you’re just as likely to climb into my lap and pat me in the most casually proprietary tone, “MY mommy.”

You are the snuggliest of doodlebugs. You still fall asleep easiest in my arms, murmuring “mama hold me!” when I try to untangle myself after you’ve drifted off. You sleep with too many stuffed animals: Snuggle Snow, Giraffey, Bunny Rabbit, Fifi, and Teddy. Every night you try to sneak another animal into bed.

You’re strong and tough, resilient and fearless. When someone pulls your hair, you pull back. When we go to the playground, you initiate play with bigger kids who (initially unsure whether they want to play with a pipsqueak), usually acquiesce wholeheartedly. You’re a devil on the zipline, while your brother rides with caution. You flout the conventions of polite society at the dinner table and Townes finds it endlessly entertaining. When you’re misbehaving at dinner, he looks at you with amazement.  You still eat with your fingers. You put beans in your ears and belly laugh. You put Play-Doh in your nose. That one wasn’t so funny.

When you get dressed in the morning, lately you’ve taken to smoothing down your shirt or dress and remarking, “I look stylish.” We don’t know where that comes from but I’m ok with “stylish.” You look at your wardrobe with the dispassionate eye of Rachel Zoe, one hand hovering over your options and then with a flourish, “This!” When we go to the park you jump on elevated areas to address the picnickers “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. BOYS AND GIRLS. I HAVE A VERY INPONONE. NOW I’M GOING TO RUN UP THIS HILL.” And then you do. It’s riveting entertainment. We think “imponone” might be a contraction of “important announcement.” But it also might be a word that only you and your imaginary, pink-haired, pink-toothed friend, known oddly as Inspanish, understand. Fair enough.

Perhaps your least favorite activity is getting your hair brushed. I get it. Those curls! You will allow Meema and Elizabeta to tame them into the slicked-down pigtails I remember from my own childhood (why them and not me?), but I secretly prefer your wild side anyway. Memory games and puzzles are your jam. Your giggle makes ME laugh. 

As evidence of your combination of uncouth social impropriety and sweetness, at your tiny, extremely impromptu 3^rd birthday tea party last night, shortly after one of our dear friends arrived, you accosted her with this pointed accusation: “Gina, did you forgot to bring me a gift?” Then after you opened your modest pile of gifts, you willingly went round and thanked each person for what they brought. You remember the details. You let daddy call you Squeaks most of the time. We love you big girl, little one, our Daisy Jean.