At the midpoint

A family friend, and fellow family blogger, writes letters to her children on their birthdays and at their half-birthday. I love this. Because at this age, by the half-birthday, so much has changed that a yearly updates seems inadequate. And since I repeatedly remind myself that this blog is the best baby book Stella is going to get, here’s to Stella’s half birthday.  (you know… some days, I really feel bad about that… I’ve saved her cord stump, a lock of her hair from her first haircut, some drawings, really, I have… her early moments are not are virtual!)

At two and a half, Stella has finally started to look like a little girl. Which scares the crap out of Steve and I (how did we get there this fast?) She’s hilarious. And dramatic. Overly dramatic. (We only have ourselves to blame). We go through Band-aids (Hello Kitty, mind you) like they are going out of style. Last month, she continually got “booboos” on her knee. Same place. Every day. This month, she keeps hurting her fingers. Mostly the thumb on her right hand. I need a kitty band-aid, she’ll announce. Why Stella? We were literally just sitting here. “No, I hurt my finger, see?” Um, yah, sure. We roll with it. While her language acquisition has grown in leaps and bounds since her 2nd birthday, I am still a little attached to the words that she does not totally comprehend or say properly. Like “I dood it.” We hear I dood it a lot around here. Her desire to help in the kitchen, which I encouraged so much, is almost to the point of getting bossy. On Sunday when we made homemade raisin swirl bread, she informed me, “No Mommy. I pour flour, okay?” She loves to eat the dry flour, loves to sprinkle spices (we almost ended up with turmeric in the bread because she can reach all the spices in the cabinet now), and is obsessed with pouring. She grabbed my 10” chef knife off the cutting board last week while was I at the stove and waved it at Steve, “Daddy, I cut now too?” Maybe this means that my love of cooking has already worn off on her and she’ll become the most efficient (and bossy) executive chef the world has ever known.

Her zest for life, for projects, for doing most of anything is infectious, and I hope that we can continue to match her excitement. She loves camping, the moon, swings, being outside (anywhere, anytime), the rain (when we get it), big dogs, and giving anyone “big hug!” I love to watch her with her stuffed animals and baby doll – although she hasn’t seen me with another young child (not yet, ha!) she is unbelievably gentle and nurturing with her “friends.” They each get wrapped lovingly in a blanket, sung a lullaby, rocked in her arms, and then it starts all over again. She even did this last night in the bathtub with a plastic water toy and a washcloth. Seriously.

Her memory retention for things scares us sometimes. She only listen to a library book once or twice, and then she can remember sections or phrases and repeat them to me when we read it again. (I hope this means she is good with facts and figures and not memorizing plays or dialogue.) I know she will be a voracious reader – more than just a stalling tactic at bedtime, “one more book” is truly what she wants, and sitting and reading picture books until she fell asleep in my arms would keep her a happy girl.

She sings all the time. Nonsense songs. ABCs, Twinkle Twinkle, Wheels on the Bus, random phrases over and over again. Steve and I woke up the other morning and turned to each other and laughed as we heard “Scuppy a good boy. He not a puppy anymore.” Scupper made the morning song finally, I said. Yup, Steve replied. He’s now part of the club. We love the morning songs. (Definitely much better than the occasional alternative, which is plaintive whining of “Mommy…. mommy….”)

This week, Stella’s preschool is slowly moving her up to the “Rainbow fish” classroom – the room for 2.5 – 3.5 year olds. No longer will she be a “Green Turtle” with the 18mo- 2.5 yr olds. She said to me today, “Mommy, I hang out with the fish today.” I asked her how that went. “Good.” but then not a second later, “I like being a Green turtle.” I told her that if she still wanted to pretend she was a turtle, that was ok, but being a Rainbow Fish was pretty neat. And they have better blocks and a play kitchen. She seemed satisfied with that answer today. Everyone at the school was amazed that she seamlessly transitioned today, but I warned them that not every day as they try it over the next few weeks might be like that. Routines are so ingrained in Stella that we have trouble convincing her some nights that it’s ok if Daddy reads books and Mommy gives a bath instead of the other way around. (If Daddy reads books, I’m still the “closer” and sing a few songs before she gets put to bed).

I hope that her pleasant mood, her love of big hugs, her silly songs, and her energy continue throughout her early childhood years… and help her through the big sister transition she will evitably go through soon. After watching her tend lovingly to her stuffed animals the other night, I think we’re going to do ok. So here’s a very merry unbirthday to you, my dearest one. We will try our hardest not to eclipse your real birthday in April over the craziness of adding another one to the family. You will, as you know, always be the first.