My baby girl just turned 3 years old.....6 weeks ago. We celebrated, of course, and I remain partially in denial that the years seem to spin faster into this vortex of child rearing. Adults age so little in a year's time, but kids...those things freaking change. A lot. Di grew almost 3 inches in 6 months. Does anyone realize how much 3 inches is? Ladies? Gentlemen? If I were 3 inches taller I wouldn't have to worry about theses 15 extra pounds that have accompanied me so graciously since I had my sweet girls.
What can I say about a 3 year old, except if anyone here thinks twos are really terrible, run far away before your child turns three. Three is the year of attitude, yelling, demanding, and moments of unimaginable sweetness. My daughter has made me cry with devastation at the things she says, and weep with the deepest love I have ever felt. It's quite a mind f@$%.
The yelling just means I need to listen to her more. The attitude is her trying to tell me something she just can't verbally express yet. She is teaching me to be more patient, kinder, and to be a better mother. Annoying. But also incredibly cute and humbling...after a few drinks. She fights with her sister now, there is pushing and grabbing and kicking. But there is also kisses and hugs and times when she feeds her baby sister off her plate, helps her read a book, and even attempts to carry her (yikes). It's is a year of wearing jewelry, skirts, and getting dirty. She will no longer let me pick our her clothes, ever, which leaves me with a desire to explain to anyone and everyone in the public that i am just being a good mother by letting her express her independence. cringe cringe. She is mastering her body and learning to control her strength and movements with gymnastics. She really is quite graceful and beautiful to watch. Her movements are effortless. Her little body is strong enough to hold itself up by her arms or legs, and her balance and flexibility make me cringe constantly. She is amazing.
She told me I was her best friend. She has also said this to a caterpillar, a stuffed cat, and a dead spider, but it was still enough to make me tear up. It was beautiful.
Unfortunately, Di being three means one more sad thing...Jbug is 18 months old. (That's a year and a half to anyone who isn't a parent, believe me, you will use months to describe the age of your child, it's the only way, kids grow fast in a year, but a baby grows abnormally fast in a month).
I am so lucky that JJ is still perfectly content being the baby. She still snuggles with us all night, insists on being carried everywhere, has absolutely no interest in the potty, regular cups, plates or eating utensils, and pretty much uses cuteness and crooked smiles to get anything she wants from either myself or her daddy, or grandparents, strangers on the street. She really is that cute. She is talking so well, when her sister allows her to do so. She absolutely loves all things furry, and literally screams with glee at any animal sighting. There isn't many moments when I don't hear a squeaky "mow mow" or "a woof!". And when she spots them, nothing but pure happiness in her eyes.
I am envious, for I am no longer capable of doing that. Isolating one thing in life that creates joy for me, without any other interferences. I wonder when I lost it, because we all do. I wish I could enjoy them like that more often, without worrying what germs or chemicals or food additives or bad vibes they are exposed to. But I guess that is my fate now, to absorb all the negative so that they see only joy. I can certainly live with that.
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