Three Years

Dear Tiller,

Yesterday, you turned three years old. Yes, I was too busy to write this on your birthday, but don't think for a minute that throughout the day i wasn't constantly reminded that it was three years to the day that you had come into our lives.

It is hard to look back on a year and remember all of the things that have changed in your life and ours in just one year. A lot has happened to us this year - We have lost your Meemaw, and Pop is in Assisted Living. That is very different. I am so glad that they have been a part of your life. I never knew a one of my great-grandparents. We moved this year, from the house in East Atlanta, where you came home and danced and sang your way into our lives. And boy do you dance and sing. You make up songs about any and everything, and sometimes I am amazed at the lyrics you come up with. You have discovered princesses. The damn Disney crap. (And yes, your mama cusses, too.) Princess dresses, tiaras, little plastic heels, and jewelry. You also love babies - You carry two or three around at a time, and we all pretend to take care of them, and your face just lights up when you realize we are playing along. This is the year that the dog and cats have realized that they like you - they are no longer scared of you, and the cats will sit next to you when you watch tv. Let's see - Shows you like are still Dora, and Franklin, and Max and Ruby. You like Rollie's Speed Racer cartoons on DVD. We have started making you watch Sesame Street in the mornings, just because we wanted you to learn to recognize letters when you see them. We also let you play the ABCs on starfall.com. I am amazed that you picked up using the touchpad on the laptop so quickly; I think you are better at it than your grandma.

You sleep so well, and go right to sleep at night. Well, sometimes you sing yourself to sleep, but you do not fight us when we put you down. You and Daddy and Rollie get up in our bed and read at night, and this year, Daddy started reading The Tale of Despereaux to you, and you wiggle and don't really get any of it, but i think it is pretty neato the way y'all pile up every night. I still sing the medley to you some nights. Some nights you want me to make your bear talk to you, so I do that instead. But i still love singing Bitsy, Sunshine, and Twinkle to you. I will be sad one day when I realize it is the last time I sang it to you.

We moved out of the old house in February, and we didn't have the new house yet, so we lived at the lake for a month. It was very strange living there, but you and Rollie and I explored middle Georgia, and went on lots of "adventures" where you learned about nature, and got dirty, and threw rocks at trees, and found bugs. I was glad, because I worry that you and Rollie have nature deprivation sometimes.

You have a cute room in our new house, green and pink. You are in a big girl bed, with one of the twin beds that came from the lake when Dad bought the iron queen bed for up there. Rollie has the other one in his room, but someday I'd like for you to have them both for sleepovers. Dad says that Grandma and Pop got those twins out of an old house in Macon, but I don't think they are that old.

You started a new preschool this year at a local church. You love it. You go three days/week, and are one of the oldest in your class, which means that you are a lot bigger than some of them. Last year, you called the little ones in your class "my babies," but you don't do that this year. I miss that.

One big thing that happened this year is that you learned to go potty. You wear big girl undies and once you got started, you really took off with it. It makes my life so much easier, but sometimes I miss the closeness that comes with having to change someone's diaper. I know that sounds crazy, but it is true. You and Rollie just don't need me that way anymore. It is a milestone, albeit a strange one.

Another huge thing that happened this year is that you learned to swim! You are my little fish girl, and can hold your breath underwater. I was so proud of you.

We had a birthday party for you on Sunday. it was a costume party, and you were a princess. You changed your mind about five times about what you wanted to be. A rat, a dog, a princess, dora. We had black and orange cupcakes. You ate two. Guests at the party were your Johnson grandma and papaw, Lyle and Denise, Lisa, mark, and Dash. Grandma and Papaw palmer were at a family reunion. Jason and Elle came - she was a princess, too. As was Trisha. Her brother Nolan was Boba Fett. Leah and Sydney came, too. I think Sydney was Luke Skywalker, and Leah was Dorothy Gale. Charla and Julianne were fairies. Scarlett was Batgirl. Her mama was a kitty cat! It was much, much fun. We decorated the backyard and had the party out there, because the weather was so nice. We ordered a pizza later, and stayed up way too late for a school night, but it was fun. Last night was your birthday, and so we made your meal request: Mac and cheese, oranges, and green grapes. They had to be green. We had chocolate cake for dessert. You blew out the candle like a flash.

One day, if you are a mother, you will understand that women are like salmon and their bodies remember and their minds go back yearly to the days their offspring entered the world. Ten or twenty times day before yesterday, I thought, "oh, this is about the time I called Todd, because I just felt a little off," or "funny that I am in the car at six p.m. tonight. I remember leaving Rollie with Lisa and going out to the cul-de-sac and getting in the red tiger wagon to go to the hospital." It was a Friday, rush hour in Atlanta (doesn't that just figure) and your father put on a CD he had made with mellow songs on it. The song was "The Scarlet Tide" from the Cold Mountain soundtrack. Yes, I have probably written that to you before, but it still makes me laugh, and i promised your father I would never let him live it down; He put a song on about blood and death and carnage as he drove me to the hospital in labor. I remember thinking before I went to bed that it was about the time they gave me the benedryl and told me to get some sleep, that it would be four or five hours til you were ready to come out. It was only almost two, and i was so tired when they woke me up. I remember thinking, "just a few more minutes of sleep." I had done this before. I knew i would get no sleep for a long time. We had to shake your daddy to wake him up. It was five til midnight when they readied everything for you, and Ruth said if we hurried, we could have a baby on the 7th, and if we took our time, on the 8th. You came on the eighth, but just barely.

Your birth was a blessing and it was the way I imagined birth should be, and I am so grateful that you gave that to me in your coming into the world. Rollie's birth I sometimes go over in my head like a car wreck, like i do the accident that your Daddy and I had one Memorial Day, when I hit my head and can't remember a huge chunk of time. I go back to that over and over, trying to find those lost moments, and never can. I go over Rollie's birth and try to remember when it started going wrong, and how it felt, worrying it like a little hole in a blanket. But not yours, yours is just a succession of happy thoughts: Laughing with your father before you came out, the funny deer-in-headlights look on his face when I brought up changing your name at the last minute, holding you right when you came out and no one worriedly waiting to whisk you away from me, and the first time you latched on, right away, like we were made for each other.

Knowing that you were my Matilda, my daughter, just like I am Virginia's Annie, born in that very same hospital, and mama was Vivian's Baby, born in Chattanooga, and that one day my grandma was her mother Ida's baby, come into the world in Lee County, NC. I remember thinking that we are a chain, unbroken, but each a charm, dangling and flashing in the sunlight, and in the darkness, too.

Tiller from two to three years, on my Flickr.

Belated Birthday Post

I often feel like reflecting on another year when my birthday comes around, but for some reason, I didn't feel like it yesterday. Once again, I feel like my birthday is just a number, and I am stuck at 27 or so, and I know that the number of years mean nothing. I love my 30's, though - I feel like I know more about the things I want out of life, and I know who the important people are, and I know to let the other things and people slide, because life is way too short to waste time on the meaningless, and on regrets. My birthday, though, has always been tinged with regret, because I hurt people around me on my birthday one year, and every year, I wake up and regret that I caused pain, and the first thing I think of is how this birthday will inevitably be better than that birthday. And every year, it never fails, no matter how lackluster it is, it is better than the terrible birthday. Life has a funny way of giving you things to remember as horrible, and in that way gives you the gift of context; You can always compare an event to the event by which all other events are measured and be reminded that things are generally good, and you should appreciate it for what it is. See people? I can be a glass half full person. i can!

This year was no different. Todd took me out on Friday for my "real" birthday celebration, which meant that we were able to eat dinner together in a decent restaurant without dealing with whiners and spills, and cutting things up, and making sure things weren't too hot, and all the little things that a meal with children require of parents. We stayed out late, and we had hangovers on Saturday, and they were worth it, because we had fun together. Then yesterday, Todd got up with the kids, which meant i was able to sleep about 10 minutes later than usual. It sucks being an adult on your birthday - you still have to battle yucky weather, and get kids to school, and pick kids up. You still have to smear peanut butter on bread and pour milks. Nobody makes you a handmade crown. But you do get to go out that night and your family has you blow out candles (Yes, Rollie, they do have that many candles at the grocery store,) and you have cupcakes (chocolate with hot pink icing!). You get phone calls from people who don't call you regularly, and nice emails, and cards, and people remind you that they love you. And you feel loved. And you win at trivia, and that is always a great birthday gift.

Thanks to all the wonderful people who made me feel very special yesterday, in a ton of different ways. You know who you are, and I love you all.

Tiller Turns Two

Dear Tiller,

Today you turned two. We celebrated your party on Sunday. It was a Hello Kitty themed party. Aunt Lisa and Papaw Palmer couldn’t make it, but your Grandma Palmer was there, and also your Johnson Grandparents. Uncle Mark showed up, even though Aunt Lisa didn’t make it – I think he is either in love with you, or cupcakes. Maybe both. Other attendees were Mama and Dada, Rollie, Ned, Vanessa, and Scarlett. We had chocolate cupcakes, and some with colored icing, but everyone wanted chocolate. We ate pizza for lunch, and you received way too many gifts. You received a stroller, baby bed, and infant carrier, a couple of baby dolls, two cel phones (just what a little girl needs), a stuffed dog on a leash, a vacuum cleaner that really vacuums, a tea party set, a doll case, and a ton of clothes. You are a very lucky girl to have so many friends and so many people who love you.

I remember when Rollie was two, and you were about to be born. It seems like just yesterday, and now he is four and you are two, and I am really, really a mother. You have learned so many amazing things in the last year. You learned to walk a little after you turned one. Now you are running and hopping. Of course, you don’t actually leave the ground yet, but you say "I am hopping!" and do a lot of bending at the knees. You like to do whatever Diego and Dora are doing – All the actions: Climbing, swimming, rowing, hopping, swinging, climbing. Thanks to Dora and Diego, you intersperse your English with Spanish words. Sometimes I have to act out actions to figure out what you are saying to me.

Your talking is just amazing – what a vocabulary! You string so many words together in run on sentences and your dada and I just look at each other, wondering what it is you are saying, because we just don’t understand all of it. That doesn’t matter to you, though. You just keep on talking, and are so expressive when you do it, nodding your head convincingly, or holding your hands palm up when asking a question of us. You repeat everything that we say, and think that Rollie’s word is God. If Rollie says or does it, you want to say or do the same thing.

You are starting to show a bit of stubbornness. When we say “time to change your diaper,” or “Let’s put on pjs” your first reaction is to take off running. We spend a lot of time chasing you down. You love the water and will pour water over your own head when in the bath and then laugh and laugh. You are the laughingest goofball of a child I have ever known. Your sense of humor is corny and quick. You love to sing in goofy voices and then laugh at yourself. Did I mention the dancing? You love music and singing and love to dance. Your dances are a sight to behold, too – You do one where you move your arms around. I couldn’t explain it if I tried, but will have to show you the video someday. Your favorite songs are “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star,“ “The Wheels on the Bus,” “You Are My Sunshine,” and “The Itsy Bitsy Spider.”

You love animals and babies. You crack us up, because when you talk about the other kids in your Mommies’ Morning Out class, you call them “babies,” but you think you are a big girl, even though you are all the same age. You started the MMO this fall, and I was worried you would miss me, but you love the class, and the other kids (Kai, Claire, and Abby) and your teachers, Miss Betsy, and Miss Janet. You cry on the days when Rollie has class, but you don’t.

You are kind of a bruiser. Sometimes I am in another room, and I hear Rollie screaming bloody murder and I walk in, and you have him in a headlock, or you are lying on top of him and won’t get off. I am hoping you will turn out to be a gentle soul, but it is nice to know that you stand up for yourself, too.

You love swimming. I am amazed at how much you love the water. You laugh and laugh in pools, and you love the kiddie pool at the lake. When we take you in the lake, you lie back as if you could just float on your back, all by yourself.

When we go to the park, you like to swing, swing, swing. You are not scared to climb or slide, but swinging is where it’s at for you. I have pushed you on a swing for almost an hour at a time before. You cry when I make you get out of the swing.

In the mornings, you scream and cry, “Mama” or “Daddy, come get me.” “Mama, Help!” You sound pitiful and sick, but as soon as we walk in, you start chirping away in your excited, sweet morning voice, asking "Where's Dada?" or "Where's Rollie?" You start talking in a waterfall of words and if other people in the house are still sleeping, I try to shush you, and you just won’t quiet down. It is endearingly annoying. When you wake up from your nap, you are the same way, except crankier, just like your Mama and Aunt Lisa, and Grandma Palmer. I carry you down the stairs, you crying the whole way, and when we get to the bottom, I ask if you want a snack, and you turn the tears off immediately, a smile breaks across your face, and you say, “Sack” while nodding your head at me.

Let’s see. What else:

You sleep well at night, usually going to bed between 7:30 and 8, but you aren’t a great napper. Most of your naps are 35 to 45 minutes long. I am thankful when you give me a whole hour.
You never let me fix your hair, which I guess is part of the curse. I never liked having mine fixed either.
You love eating. I have been lucky that both kids have healthy appetites. I try to feed you healthy stuff, and you do a pretty good job with it. You do love gold fish. You call them, “Olefish.” So cute.
You are starting to love to read, and we read to you every night, but you also will grab a book and sit down with it, turning the pages and pretending to read.

Since your birthday party, you have been walking around saying, “I’m a baby!” and then “I’m a big girl!” You may be growing up to be a big girl, a young lady, but you will always be my little baby girl, even when you are fifty. I am so lucky to have you for a daughter. I knew that being a parent was special, but I never knew how amazing it would be to have a boy and a girl. Mom always said that there was something so very wonderful about having a daughter, and now I understand what she meant. You are sweet and mercurial, tough and sensitive, beautiful and ornery, girly and tomboyish, smart and silly, all wrapped up in the cutest, roly-poliest package I have ever seen. You are a little like your father, and a lot like me, and better than both of us put together. I have learned so very much from you and Rollie. Having a little girl, though, is a slightly more daunting task for me. I know that I am your foremost role model, the woman from whom you will learn so very much in your life. You bring out so many things in me that I didn’t know I had inside. You make me a better person. You make me want to be someone you can look up to, someone you can learn valuable life lessons from, and someone you can respect. I hope that I do as wonderful a job as my Mom did. I hope that I set an example for you that will make you as proud of me as I am of you.

Happy Birthday, Baby Tiller.

With love,
Mama

Thanks to Uncle Mark for the cute Tiller with Stroller vid.

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