I’ve been terribly negligent of this blog for about a year now. I’ve realized that I’ll never be a regular blogger, and the older my children get, the more cautious I am about what I post about them online. But I do so love to look back at old things that I’ve written about them. Peanut has barely any written record of her milestones and quirks, beyond what I’ve written on Facebook. I’ve tried downloading an archive of my Facebook profile so those precious memories aren’t permanently lost to the ether, but I’ve been unsuccessful so far. Pumpkin has a decent amount of things written about her first years, but I still feel like it isn’t enough.
I want to remember it all. I look back at Youtube videos of Pumpkin from when she was even just a year younger than she is now, and I can’t believe how much she’s changed. I forget little words that she used to mispronounce or physical eccentricities that she had. And she is only three-and-a-half. What won’t I remember when she is ten? Twenty? Thirty-four?
I swear that she was just learning to crawl and jabber and walk and talk yesterday. Now she’s got a vocabulary almost as sophisticated as mine, and she’s as physically capable as any middle school child. And now she’s going to be The Big Sister to not just one sibling, but soon two. Is she really already almost four?
Yesterday was Valentine’s Day, and The Captain and I don’t really make a big deal of the holiday. I wanted to post something about love on my Facebook page, and I came across this old “letter” to Pumpkin from two summers ago. It was June 2011, and I was about seven months pregnant with Peanut. I think that was the point in my pregnancy that I started to get a little bit nervous about dividing my heart between two girls (at the time I really didn’t buy into the notion that “hearts don’t divide; they grow“…but now as a mother of nearly three children, I can attest that it, in fact, does…though that is a post for another time.)
I was giddy with excitement to be welcoming Peanut within the next few months, but I was also beginning to try to find ways of coping with the inevitable loss of my one-on-one time with my beautiful firstborn baby. Reading the post now is bittersweet; that baby isn’t necessarily gone now, but the baby now buried deep within the core of a little girl with self-confidence, sass, an independent streak ten miles wide, and layers upon layers of experiences that make her need her mommy less and less every day.
She doesn’t really fit in my lap any more; she’s the size of many five-year-olds, all lanky arms and coltish legs that are difficult to curl up next to my now-growing belly. Never mind the fact that she rarely has time for a cuddle.
Spontaneous kisses from her are rare, and I sometimes have to ask for hugs. Sometimes, she even says “no”, and while I admire and respect her right to dictate what she does with her own body, it makes me sad every single time.
Most of the fingerprints and noseprints around the house are now Peanut’s. Pumpkin is usually quite conscientious of washing her hands.
I haven’t been allowed to kiss her feet during diaper changes in over a year. She’s nearly out of diapers, in fact.
She says “flower” perfectly, as well as every other word that she attempts to pronounce.
As her face has matured, her eyes are more evenly shaped, and more lovely and reflective of her burning intellect, every day.
She is still very bossy. I’m assuming that won’t ever change.
She hasn’t used signing instead of words in a very long time. Peanut has made up her own sign language, and Pumpkin doesn’t seem to remember many words.
She does still love sympathy for her boo-boos and starts dance parties, and every once in a while brings us all in for family hugs, Peanut included. Other things are now her “butt”. And of course she still has that curl that falls on her forehead, and toes just like daddy’s.
I think she’ll always be dramatic and sweet and brave and tender.
She’s still mine…at least for a little while longer. And I’ll always be hers.