My Birthday Letter to Maddie

Dear Maddie,

I meant to get this out on your birthday but... Well, your momma was a teensy bit tightly strung over your big party the following day. :)

You're three years old now, my love! I can barely wrap my mind around it. For so many years, I never thought I'd be a mother. To end up being a mother to the most amazing and beautiful little girl... I don't always feel like I deserve you.

You've had quite a year, back in the olden days of being two. In fact, I think it might've been your best year yet (aside from being born and all). :)

Let's see, you went from walking and running to jumping and tumbling (usually not on purpose though), talking in little sentences to full-on conversations. You love shopping and new clothes, both for you and me. You have an opinion on everything and what's also cool is that you suddenly know everything about everything. Ha! Max and Ruby trumps it all though, including a new toy or juice box (and that's saying a lot with you, little lady). You call Barbies "Darbies" and it's so cute that we've yet to correct you. Bedtime can't be bedtime unless you have at least 4 blankies in that cute little toddler bed of yours and you definitely make sure that Daddy doesn't skip any pages of your story or cut short your prayer time (during which you always thank God for your wonderful dreams).

You learned your colors and numbers and letters this year. Aside from being totally in love with you, I want nothing but the best for you and I kinda get a huge kick out of working and playing with you.

I have never met a child with such compassion and empathy. You consistently ask your daddy how work was, how his students were, and remind him that you missed him very much. You tell me that my earrings are pretty and ask me how I'm feeling.

This year, we learned that you have some food allergies. I took it harder than you. We had to bid farewell to your favorite Yogo snacks and lollipops (nasty, yucky corn syrup!) and instead, braved gluten-free pancakes and organic fruit snacks. We did it together. Again, I took it harder. You've taken it all in stride, girl.

You love your dollies and figures and watercolor paints. I think you could paint all day. Sometimes, it feels like you do. I wish I could keep every painting you create. Did you know that before I finally do throw out a painting, I take a picture of it? Maybe someday you'll appreciate it. :)

And more than anything Maddie, you're my little sidekick. It hasn't been an easy year for your momma. We suffered loss two painful times, and with each one, a wisdom that surpasses your years amazed me. You have an understanding of Jesus and heaven and life better than a whole lot of adults. There were many mornings where I'd wake up and feel like I just couldn't face the day. But then, every single time, I'd hear your voice. You'd be singing or talking to your dolls or calling my name... You renew me and make my heart so glad. You make me want to be the best that I can be.

I hope you'll always love to bake and cook with me, to get manicures and pedicures (one of your favorite things; you sit so very still for it!) and to be tickled until tears are rolling down your face. I love your little mind and all the safaris and adventures and princess tea parties you take me to. I love when you belt out the song, One True God, and I love to hear you tell me about your adventures and friends in Sunday school. I love to watch you dance and even though you've been taking ballet for almost a year now, I usually tear up at some point during each lesson.

You are more than I ever dreamed possible. Sometimes, I creep into your room at night, crouch quietly by your bed and watch you sleep. I wish I could take a picture because I'm so terrified of forgetting these years. You're so amazing and you're growing so fast. It's the first time in your life that I'm having a hard time with it.

I truly fall in love with you deeper everyday.

Keep giving me those big kisses and raspberries,

Mom.

You're almost two...

Dear Maddie,

I guess you should sort of be getting used to this by now, since, at this point, you've lived with me almost two years, but it's been a wild few weeks here, huh? I mean, aside from everything that's happening with life, you've had some big changes, too. In a lot of ways, and I'm not talking about your new-found power to hit people (although, when you hit me yesterday, you told me that you were just "movin' your arms a little bit" and not hitting me at all), you're becoming less toddler and more little girl.

First of all... the potty. Really, you trained me because in all honesty, I'm actually missing the days (and ease) of just changing a diaper. I'm pretty sure that you are the first individual that can use the bathroom eighteen times in the same hour. Not only do I feel like a jack-in-the-box, running to the restroom every other minute with you, but I also can't keep enough green M&Ms stocked in the jar.

But, I know it's a good thing and I'm super proud of you (and watching you dig and dig, searching for "one more green treat!" makes me smile).

And, you have almost all of those big, bad, two year molars in. I'm pretty sure that that is far more exciting for me, although from the looks of your poor, swollen gums, you must feel a little relief too.

You're just a funny little creature. I love all (okay, almost all) of your idiosyncrasies and I love watching you become the person you're meant to be. I love that you throw your sippy cup out of your bed, signaling that you're ready to go to sleep. I love that you wake up talking about bagels and Mickey Mouse and wondering if we're going to see TT. I love that you're nearly as quirky as me, like whenever you see that Eric Carle cube in your tent, you immediately grab it and throw it out. We can't figure out what you have against the cube...

You've changed so much these past few weeks and it makes me happy and sad and scared. I'm worried that it'll be just a few more weeks and I'll be writing how it's so cute that you apply eyeshadow that matches your clothes and never come in past curfew. You do keep me laughing and you do keep me on your toes.

You have such excitement towards, well, towards everything. The expression in that deep, but squeaky, little voice of yours is pretty darn adorable. You tell me that this is, "the most 'lee-licious sucker ever!" and that, "Mama's phone is so, so pretty!" When you saw Lilly a couple days ago, you walked up to her and said, "Ohhh, cute shirt Lilly!"

Funny girl, you are.

And tonight, Grandma is coming over to help stuff goody bags for your second birthday party. Wow. Two years old... *Sniff, sniff*

So, here's to watching you grow even more into your sweet, and silly, little self.

I love you,

Mama

A Letter You'll Love When You're Older

Dear Maddie,

You are so incredibly and unbelievably intelligent, my dear. And I'm not, by any means, bragging or tooting my own horn. This is all you and I'm simply telling you that you absolutely blow my mind.

One major thing you've taught me in these 22 months is to sometimes just relax and listen to what you're saying and watch what you're doing. Before you came along, I had quite the agenda. Things were done on time, on schedule and on my terms. You, on the other hand, have quite the agenda as well and on yours has been using the toilet.

So, we've jumped into potty learning/training/teaching and you're amazing. You love your big girl panties, which you affectionately refer to as, "My bhhhhig guhrl pannies!" You love your froggy potty and you frequently tell me that he's "eatin' the pee-pee!" It absolutely cracks me up to watch you choose your goodies (M&Ms) after a successful potty session because you will ONLY eat the green ones.

You truly are your mama's daughter.

Today, you added a new layer to the fun because you've mastered manipulation of the goodies. You've realized that the more you pee on the potty, the more goodies you get per hour.

That means that you pee just enough to count, flush it, get your goodies and then immediately announce that it's "potty time again!" In the past hour, I think we've made 10 potty trips, each one producing, uhh, something.

You're very clever, these things you're doing for goodies. You also appear to be showing signs of a dangerously strong sweet tooth. Again, you're all mine.

And this morning, you actually (hey, don't kill me in 10 years for publishing this, okay? It's only for strict recording purposes of your growth and development. Promise.) pooped on the potty. You were ridiculously proud of yourself and we ran to, once again, get goodies. I told you to take two (which is standard for us). You, in all seriousness, looked at me and said, "Three Mama. I pooped."

Fair enough.

Three green M&Ms coming your way.

You're getting big. Almost too big for your britches. I think it's time to make a Target run for some cool big girl panties, huh?

Love you,

Mama

Promise to be proud?

Dear Maddie,

I've been in a real thinky mood lately and my heart has been a tad heavier than usual. I don't think you've recognized it too much, although when I was zoning out tonight, you did say, "Okay, Mama?"

I have a lot on my mind little girl and it's hard stuff. It's what you would call, "Tricky, Mama."

See, I'm in a little bit of a crisis of circumstances. I'm teetering dangerously close on the edge of letting your dad go and that, for the first time, scares the heck out of me. I've been holding on Maddie, for months and months, because I love him and I love you and I want only the best for you. I've said that I'd never let go but I realize now that it's not a decision for me to make.

I think it's time I release the white-knuckled grip I've been commanding and let it go. Just... Let it go. I've really been thinking what IS best for you and I feel like enough answers have presented themselves to make my choice just a smidge easier. I want you to know that a piece of me will always love him. I have lots of memories, from before you were even around, and those memories get me through. They help me see how much he's changed but also how amazing he used to be.

I so desperately want you to grow up and be proud of me, Maddie. It's something that I think about several times a day. I want you to look back and be proud of the choices your mom made and the paths she took. I want you to be able to tell your friends that your mom always did the best that she could.

And for months now, that path has led me to stand for the marriage your dad and I have. I've talked until I'm blue in the face. I've kicked and screamed and cried and begged. I've pleaded and prayed and offered up all sorts of bargains and negotiations with Him.

But sweet girl, I can't do it anymore. My heart has been working over-time lately, and it's prepared itself in a way I never thought possible. It's not like I'm running off to Vegas to get hitched, but I am prepared (as much as I can be) to go at this as a Mommy-Maddie combo only.

I'm going to let go of the cookie-cutter hopes I once held for you, and for us, and we're going to really try and move forward. I'm not totally sure what that's going to look like, but we've got each other and we have faith and He will never waste this hurt. That, Miss Maddie, is something I'm sure of.

It's scary and I hope that someday you'll understand. I hope you'll look back and be proud of me and understand why I've done the things I've done.

I so want you to be proud of me, Maddie.

We go to court next week and I'm actually more excited about the root canal than that. Thankfully, you'll be left out of both events and it makes me feel a little better to know that I get to come home to you.

So, I'm going to let go and follow the path I feel like I need to follow, yet again. You will always be my absolute, no questions asked, first priority. Always. Please never forget that and never forget how utterly amazing you are. You lift me up and put the twinkle in my eye. You hug and kiss and reassure. You've even taken to telling me, "Good job, Mama!" when I follow house rules, like throwing trash away. We really keep each other accountable.

I love you and I just hope that someday, you'll understand. You'll understand and you'll love me and we'll be able to look back on this year and hug and cry and laugh.

Loving you so much longer than forever,
Mom

5 Months: Growin' and Changin'

Dear Maddie,

I've been writing these posts, for the past few months, marking the time that's passed since you and I embarked on this new journey of a single momminess, custody-sharing life. I know you have very little concept of time (unless you're demanding juice, in which you have no problem requesting it every 12 seconds until someone finally breaks down and passes you a sippy of it), but we're approaching the five month mark.

Five months. That's a long time, considering how much you've changed and grown.

When your dad left five months ago, things were really, really rough. They were rough for you and they were rough for me. You didn't like me giving you your bath and you wanted him to put you to bed. I'll never forget (as much as I'd like to) you crying in your crib, just nights after he left. You were sobbing, "Daddy, Daddy."

It absolutely, 100% broke my heart.

But, hearts are mending in the best way they know how and no one is crying themselves to sleep anymore (well, unless you're completely exhausted and have taken to believing that watching Mickey Mouse at 10pm is ideal and that I'm the unreasonable one for saying no; then there are quite a few tears.).

So in five months, you've become a chattering, curious, funny little creature. You're dabbling with reason and logic, though I don't understand it half the time (seriously, today you just had to have a sippy of milk AND a sippy of juice in your mouth, at the same time, because it tasted "le-licious."). You answer my questions and you even ask me questions. You've got an opinion and you're quick to share it. When I came out with my hair in a sloppy side ponytail a couple mornings ago, you said, "Ohhhh, cute Mama! Shower now?"

You have such a good memory. You amaze me with that tiny steel trap that's in your head. I keep waiting for you to tell me what it was like in the womb, since you seem to remember everything else that's happened in your life. Weeks ago, Brandie showed you a video on the computer. It was of me, doing some sort of ridiculous dance that makes my toes curl (from our trip to Mexico; you'll understand when you get older). Anyway, that was weeks ago and yet every single time I turn on the computer, you're the first to shout, "Mama dance! My mama dance!"

Fabulous. I promise to get you into dance lessons when you get a little older and we can hopefully avoid you inheriting my embarrassing dance moves.

You've learned a ton these past few months. A lot of the time, it makes me sad because it's going by so, so fast. But, in other big ways, it excites me. I'm hopin' and praying that you and I will be great buddies. I mean, I know that I'm your mom and all (and what I say goes, got it? Eating a lollipop at 7am is not ever going to happen, and the sooner you wrap your mind around that, the better off our mornings will be, okay?) but I really hope we'll be friends. There's a certain maturity to you that seems to touch my soul.

I'm not sure you entirely realize it, but we've clung to each over the course of these past five months. You love on me and that means a lot. You're understanding love and that's so important. You're gentle with your baby dolls and you're gentle, for the most part, with me. When I put you to bed last night, you looked up from your crib and pile of blankies and said, "Be good Mama. Luv-uh you."

So, here's to another five months of crazy, rapid growth for you and for me.

I love you my little parrot,

Mama

My Little Silly

Dear Maddie,

Girl, you crack me up. Recently, someone asked me how (or was it why?) I'm still smiling. Without even blinking, I answered, "It's all Maddie."

You are, easily, a one-person comedy show.

Sure, you throw tantrums of epic proportions (don't let anybody tell you that those wet, moldy rubber duckies are meant only for the bath tub and not for your crib). You can tune me out better than some teenage boys do to their moms and you can frustrate me to the point where there's not enough wine in the world that would help me out (like, explain why, after eating them solidly for the past year, you've suddenly stopped eating mini pancakes? And why did you decide that after I bought the family-sized box of 250??).

But, you are also super funny.

Like tonight, we were eating grilled hot dogs. We were talking about how these better be healthier for us, since I paid more for them. You took a bite and said, "Mmmm, healthy Mama!" You also insisted on only eating my hot dog. You'd grab my hand and say, "Gimme Mama's tot dog!"

You're very interested in Jesus. You make it an eye spy game to "find" Him whenever we enter a room. Most of the time, you find the crucifix and shout in a real excited way, "Dare he is!" When I took you in the office with me, you said, "Where Eesus go?" Then, running to the trash, you threw up your arms and said, "He in duh trash!" Ha. You later told me that he was "with da tiger!" in the backyard. Because yeah, we apparently have a tiger loose in the house, along with Jesus.

You also have an uncanny knack of repeating yourself, over and over, until I finally acknowledge you. Yesterday, you were playing with figures and started saying, "I got Mickey, Mama!" After hearing you say it about 3 times, in rapid succession, I replied with a smile and a nod (I was, after all, on the phone). You, obviously irritated with my lack of a verbal response, started shouting, "Mama, I GOT MICKEY! I GOT MICKEY!" I counted. You said it 27 times before finally deciding that I'd gotten the message.

Loud and clear, partner.

You take a picture with your play camera and say, "Cheese! That's cute." What's cute, in my book, is that it's a camera from the early 90's and isn't digital. That doesn't stop you from "looking" at the picture on the (imaginary) screen before declaring it "cute."

When you're sad, your immediate requests are (and, in this order): "Milkies. Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. Bolt. Nuggle." I'm still not sure how we can watch Mickey and Bolt at the same time, but we've got the snuggle thing down.

Last one. Promise.

You're starting to fight naps. I'm starting to fight harder for you to continue taking naps. Today, I put you down and you screamed at me (for about 20 looooong minutes), "Mama, I don't nap! I. DON'T. NAP!"

Ahhhh. I love you so much, my silly little girl,

Mama

P.S. Oh, and you most certainly DO nap, so don't go thinking that just because you can use contractions now, you're old enough to be exempt from naps. Sorry. Try mastering long division and we'll talk, okay?

For Maddie

Dear Maddie,

I don't know how to start this one. It's late at night and I'm sitting here online, looking at apartments for rent. I'm also doing that can't-catch-your-breath type of crying.

Baby, I'm so sorry that all of this is happening. I'm so sorry that we're losing our house. You know what keeps breaking my heart, what keeps causing me to look away from the screen and just cry? I don't know where you'll park Millie (your little pink car). I don't know where we'll put your sand and water table and I don't know where you'll ride your little trike. I don't know what flowers you'll pick for me outside and I don't know where we'll put all your stuff.

Lord knows, I never wanted this for you.

When your dad and I bought this house, we were so, so proud. We were really young and we'd worked so hard to save the money. We did it all on our own and it was renovated with such thought and love.

I think of the bedroom you're sleeping in right now. Gosh, I agonized over that room. We wanted it just perfect for you because that's what you deserve. I wanted to make sure the colors were right and that you had space for your books and for your toys.And now, well... We're just losing it all and I'm so sorry.

I'm so sorry that I couldn't fix this for you.

Know that when I do find that awesome two bedroom apartment, you get both rooms. I'm going to sleep on the couch (really, I'm okay with that) and we'll make the second bedroom one amazing playroom that all your buddies will be totally jealous about.

Maddie, I want so desperately to give you the world. I can't help but feel that I'm failing you so miserably. Your house, your room, your backyard... I'm sorry.

Remember that the important thing is that we're together and we're healthy and better days are coming. You know, you probably don't even realize that these are tough days. In fact, I know you don't and I love you for that. I love you for being your happy little self and for never being too afraid or embarrassed to just stop dead in your tracks to dance to some random song (like you did in Chipotle tonight).

But still, I'm sorry this couldn't be saved. I'd give so much, so much, to save it for you but I just don't know what else to do.

So, we'll pack up and head off. We'll keep our chins up and we'll be okay.

So just keep doing all that fun Maddie stuff that you do, from the giggling to the babbling to the random times you ask me to sit and "nuggle" on the couch with you. What in the world would I do without you?

Mom

Happy Easter, Little Bunny

Dear Maddie,

Tomorrow is Easter. In fact, it's your second Easter. Last year, we were in Vegas. You got your first sunburn and you tried your first bite of pancake (although, I thought that you were, in fact, allergic to the pancake and not sunburned at all. I was wrong and I still get pangs of guilt when I think of your burnt little face.).

We were together, as a family, but if you were to actually remember it, you'd remember that it wasn't all sunshine and smiles. In fact, I kinda consider last year's Easter as the point in which your Dad and I started to unravel. I never, ever, ever want you to think that it was your fault in any way whatsoever. You were (and are) such a good baby and your Dad and I had these things lying under the surface. Vegas just happened to bring them all out.

So, this Easter is going to look a little different. You get to spend the night with your Daddy and see me in the morning. I put in a change of address request to the Easter Bunny, so don't worry. I'm thinking that he'll easily find you both places (and, I'm pretty sure that he even got your Nana and Poppa's address too, you lucky girl!).

Holidays are going to be like this, and I'm sorry for the flip-flopping. It won't seem weird to you; it'll be your way of life and it'll just be what happens. That said, it'll be weird to me.

But, I want you to know that your dad and I are working really hard on being buddies again, so I'm one hundred percent confident that each and every holiday will get a little bit better. Better for you and better for me.

I can't wait to see you in your Easter dress. Did you know that you have three options of what to wear?! I want you to know that while we may not know where we're going to be living this time next Easter, trust that you'll always have a plethora of Easter dress options, okay? Your Nana and Grandma will positively see to that.

I'll miss you like crazy tonight, but can't wait for church and our egg hunt tomorrow morning.

Love you forever my little bunny.
Mom

A Letter to My Girl

Dear Maddie,

I figure that since you're now at the ripe old (mature) age of 21 months, it's high time for our first mother-daughter letter. I often wonder what you'll think when you stumble upon this blog in, say, 15 years. I wonder if you'll grimace and blush or sigh and roll your eyes (which would be, by the way, a trait entirely inherited from yours truly; Ask your Poppa if I ever happened to roll my eyes at him, okay?).

It's my hope that you'll read each post and feel how much I love you. Yes, you drive me nuts and I'm not afraid to blog about that. Nuts. Absolutely, close-my-eyes-and-pray-to-heaven kind of nuts.

But, you're also my entire world. You're the reason that I stay awake at night, making plans for our future and just generally sweating, as I try to figure things out. You're the reason I bounce out of bed in the morning, bounding into your room to talk about your dreams and fill your sippy cup (literally, in that order; you never fail to say, "Hi Mama! Milkies now?").

You don't know it (yet), but you're my tiny, little rock. You're my anchor in this crazy world. You've been by side throughout it all, whether you've wanted to or not. You've seen me cry. A lot. In fact, you've seen me cry more than I'd ever want for you to see me cry.

But.

I think you're also learning that I'm human and that we're in this together. The ups and the downs, the tantrums and the day trips, the hugs and the kisses that make the boo-boos "ahh-better." Maybe a little magic has been taken out of life for you. I hope it hasn't, but I sometimes feel like a little bit of that special, childhood sparkle was stolen. I'm sorry for that; I'm sorrier than really, you'll ever know. But, you know what? This is life and girlie, you are going to be so well-prepared and confident and strong.

I just know it.

You're almost two, and that blows my mind. It blows my mind how much our lives have changed, but I'm so unbelievably comforted that you and I kid, well, we're tight. We've got lots more adventures coming our way. We're going to have to spend some nights apart, and that makes my heart throb a little bit (okay, it throbs a lot) but we're going to be just fine.

Because see, from the moment I held your tiny little face in my hands, after so many months of waiting and hoping and praying (and truly, so many years of only dreaming of something so perfect), I felt our hearts connect. You may not see it, but our hearts are connected by this thin, but incredibly strong, string. Sure, in about 12 years you'll probably hate me and tell me that your dad is so much cooler and doors will be slammed. You'll storm out. My rules will be lame and I'll be terribly unhip (ha, I'm pretty sure that the word "hip" is already embarassing to use!). Shopping at Forever 21 will suddenly shame you into such a pile of sighing and head-shaking that I'll have to find a new retail venue. My music will be outdated and my values will sound unbelievably old to you.

But.

I'm ready for you. Bring it. I'm already fielding off your sensitively sweet "Go way Mama" comments with a winsome smile and crinkled nose. I know you love me. In fact, despite the fact that you bit me and drew blood yesterday, I still count myself as one of your great best friends.

Happy 21 months big girl.

Thanks for balancing out those tantrums with an appropriate amount of snuggles and squeezes.

Mama