To Lillian on her second birthday (two days late... sorry)

Dear Lila,

The moment the delivery room nurse placed you gently in my arms I knew you were God's perfect angel sent down to me straight from heaven. 

But it was only a matter of minutes until, like every other delusional and eventually abandoned parental fantasy, that romantic day dream crumbled before my very eyes and you launched directly into a two-year nonstop poop fest interrupted only briefly by you screaming and running away when I suggest it might be time for a diaper change. 

Only fourteen months older than your younger sister, I thought you would welcome her with open arms into our family after the year of hazing you received from Ellie.  But your pledge of allegiance to Ellie was unwavering, and from day one you decided if you can't have me no one will.  Every night I pray that one day my sanity will return along with my hearing. 

You are the spitting image of your father, not only in looks but also in temperament. The good part about that is that I know I will never have to worry if we happen to accidentally wander into the middle of a knife fight.  The bad part about that is that you'll probably be in jail about four times by the time you graduate from high school.  But, like your father, you'll be too smart for me to ever be the wiser.

Last week you asked me for a pen and paper and a few minutes later when I came by and peeked over your shoulder expecting to see a bunch of uncoordinated scribbles, I saw you had hammered out a few letters.

W.  T.  F. 
It was a very Shelley Duvall flipping through Jack Nicholson's masterpiece moment in The Shining.  As I gasped you looked at me with an expression that said, "What?  It's a few letters.  No big d.  Now get me a pudding cup."

I just slowly backed away and went to play dolls with Ellie. 

The one thing you did inherit from me is the ability to problem solve with a dance break, and I would put your moves up against any 2-year-old on the planet. 

You embrace life with enthusiastic vigor, and sometimes as you race around the back yard I wonder if you might actually spread wings and take flight.  But then I take another sip of my wine, close my eyes real tight and remind myself that humans can't fly. 

Everyone is continually asking me where you get all your energy, and I think it has something to do with the fact that your first words each morning are, "I eat?" and the last ones before you fall asleep are, "still hungry."    

You are beautiful, vivacious, passionate, lovable, loyal, kind, determined, and hilarious. 

So... how's this play on camera?  Good?  Cool. 

You are a sparkle in my eye, and a skip in my step. 
I know whatever you decide to put your talents toward will be successful, if not completely "legal". 

In the words of your favorite song:

When you're sad, you know I wish I could be there
To make your sorrows disappear and set your troubles free
It's not fair for me to be this far from you
But I promise to stay true wherever I might be
Time keeps burning
The wheels keep on turning
Sometimes I feel I'm wasting my day
How I miss you and I just wanna kiss you
And I'm gonna love you till my dying day




Laine Griffin said...

Funny AND sweet post - I like it!
I too, have a two-year-old, and she eats all.the.time. What's up with that?!
I'm glad I found this blog - looking forward to reading more!

Hannah said...

Thank you, and for real - I would ask where it all goes but the diaper speaks for itself!