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Two!

Dear Phoebe,

It's your second birthday! You're the second child, so you're used to seconds -- second-hand clothes, second-hand books and toys -- not to mention a mother who's doing a second-rate job of maintaining things like your baby book and photo albums. I know that shoved in the back of my sock drawer is the post-it note I used to record contractions the night I went into labor with you, and I think I saw your hospital bracelet tucked in the back of our kitchen junk drawer. I did scribble down most of your "firsts" on a calendar: first tooth -- six months; first step -- ten months; first word -- doggie; first time you slept through the night -- well, we're still waiting for that, aren't we? Life has been so busy and full since you came along that I just don't have time to sort out all the memorabilia. Maybe when you're twelve I'll get around to it.



I never had second thoughts about you, but I admit there were times I second-guessed myself in those first few weeks. You were so completely different from your sister in terms of eating and sleeping that I thought I must be doing something wrong. One day when you were about a week old, you and I were in the rocking chair and you were crying because you were hungry, but I couldn't get you latched on correctly. Then Mallory came in the room and started to cry because she wanted me to play with her. Then I started to cry because here were my two favorite people in the world, my girls, and I was failing both of them at the same time and I just knew that you were both going to be scarred for life because of your horrible mother. Luckily things improved from that point. You've probably had to cry a bit more than your sister ever had to, and share attention that she had all to herself, but you also have the privilege of having a big sister who loves you very much. (I promise she does, even if she doesn't always act like it!)



The second time around, I didn't worry too much about those developmental milestones; I knew from Mallory that babies do things on their own schedule. That said, you've been a bit ahead of the curve: walking at 10.5 months, talking at a year. Now you can carry on real conversations that almost make sense. ("Monsters scare me." "They do?" "Monsters have vewy tiny faces.") And you're the only two-year-old I know who can sing not only the standards -- Twinkle Twinkle, Wheels on the Bus -- but also "Tomorrow," Olivia Newton John's "Physical," and the Beatles' "Babies in Black." You're amazing, and funny -- a cuckoo bird, you call yourself, or sometimes a silly goose -- and I love waiting to see what you'll come up with next.



Mallory probably considers you her second-in-command, but the truth is you'd much rather give orders than take them. "I don't want to!" is probably your favorite sentence. You were a bit over a year old the first time you told Mallory, "Hey! Be nice!" and now you sometimes referee your own squabbles with a "Girls! No pushing!" You have a will of iron, and while I'm afraid that might make the two's a bit terrible, I also hope that it will allow you to grow to be someone strong and self-assured and capable.



They say that when you have one child, you're a couple with a baby, but your second child makes you a family. I don't know if that's quite true. I do know that since you've been here, life has been a bit more complicated but also worlds more complete. Every second of the day I'm grateful for your big blue eyes, your funny laugh, your sweet (albeit rare) hugs, your unique way of moving through the world. They also say that a second child doesn't halve a mother's love -- it multiplies it. I agree with that one completely. Happy birthday, sweet girl.



P.S. I'm sorry I had to go to work today, and even sorrier that you were crying when I left. If I hadn't taken all of last week off, I would've been able to stay home with you. Or if you'd planned better and been born on the recent federal holiday, it wouldn't be a problem at all. I'll make it up to you, I promise.

UPDATE: So far Phoebe has celebrated her birthday by locking Chris out of the house and watching Blue's Clues for 30 minutes while he knocked on the door trying to get her attention. Apparently she feels that 2 is quite old enough to be in the house unsupervised!

Comments

aimee said…
Uh oh! The terrible twos started right on time! Ha! I remember when Rhett locked me out of the house. His little baby bro was on the floor, the tv was on and he left the room to get a stool to help him unlock the door. But he was so distracted by the tv that it took him about 30 minutes to head toward the door. Ah two year olds are a lot of fun.

Happy Birthday Phoebe!!!
H Noble said…
Oh, that's too funny! And I would probably be freaking out!
I love your letters to the girls, Krista. I know they will cherish those someday.
Holly

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