March 22, 2008
23 Months
Dear Bean,
You are now officially a big sister. Your brother came screaming into this world two weeks into your 23rd month. So far you alternate between hard-hearted jealousy and lovey-dovey affection for your brother. Towards me, though, it’s about 75% pretending I don’t exist and 25% refusing to be out of my arms. The 25% more than pays for the 75%, but it still stings me when you refuse to kiss me or even look at me. I suppose this is good practice for when you’re 12 and want nothing more than to disown me as your mother, but it still stinks. Don’t ever turn 12. Skip right over to 23, will you?
Our perception of you changed after your brother’s birth. Beforehand, you were our cute, petite little Bean. Once we brought Chris home, though, you magically transformed into this giant, lumbering Godzilla of a child. (Still cute, though). You became the Saint Bernard to Chris’ Chihuahua. I hadn’t noticed how big you’d gotten. My God, I realized, you’re not a baby anymore. You’re a toddler, a big girl, and a big sister. Excuse me while I nuzzle my face in your neck and cry a little.
Your vocabulary this month has exploded. You say new words and phrases every day. It amazes me how well you absorb language and are able to apply it in a different context. Your father asked you to stop playing with a toy long enough to give him a kiss. You huffed, looked at him, and shouted BUSY! as you went back to your toy. Your favorite phrases are I GOT IT! I DID IT! And READY, SET, GO!
The other day your cousin was in a shove-y kind of mood while playing at our house. He approached you and tried, TRIED to shove you to the ground. Apparently, he forgot who he was dealing with. You tensed your body, dug your heels into the ground, and shouted NIIIIICE! Needless to say, you’re no pushover, and he knows not to try to shove you.
Spending time with your cousin has done wonders for you. You talk more, smile more, and pick up more things than I would think to show you. He teaches you letters and you teach him to count…sort of. If only your future algebra teacher will allow “One, two, sick, nine, free.” You’ll be valedictorian for sure.
I love the time we spend alone together, Bean. I try to spend Mama-and-Bean-only time every day to help you continue to feel special to me even though so much of my time is devoted to the baby. I love feeling you lean against me when we read books together at night before your bedtime. I savor our four o’clock snack breaks when you hug me tight as we share cookies and milk. Just the other morning, you slipped into our room, crept up next to the bed, and took my hand. What a wonderful way to wake up. That’s the 25% that I live for – to know that you still love me even though I ruined your life by giving you a baby brother.
Your sense of humor is developing quickly. Most of it is slapstick – you laugh when someone falls or makes a funny face – but some of it is different – drier, like mine. Today, you were “helping” me fold a load of laundry, by which I mean you jump onto the bed, belly flop into the basket, and scatter clean clothes around the room. Repeatedly. Boy, is this FUN. (note: teach Bean about sarcasm.) You took the last of the clothes and threw them straight up. My underwear landed directly on your head. I scolded you, telling you that all you were doing was creating more work for me. You giggled, handed me my panties and said “Funny, though” as if to say yeah, I can be a pain, but at least we had a few laughs. You diffused my frustration by making me smile – you inherit that from me. It’s our way of whistling in the dark, disarming people with humor.
You’re adapting well to your new role as big sister. You’re obliging, after a fashion. You bring me a cushion to prop my feet on while I nurse your brother. When he cries, you give him some of your toys. You even give him Lovey, your best friend in the whole universe. I think that the two of you will be good for each other. I don’t know if you will be friends or nemeses, but you are off to a good start.
No matter how old you get or how many siblings you have, you will always be my first, my big girl, my beautiful Sophie. There’s a special place reserved in my heart for all the time we spent together with you as my only child. There’s space enough for every giggle, every tear, and every pair of underwear on your head. You’ll never have to compete for my love, sweetie. There’s plenty to go around. I love you more than peanut butter loves jelly.
Love,
Mama