Letter to my monkey: 30 months

Dear Daisy,

Emily Dickinson, an American poet, once wrote, We’d never know how high we are, til we are called to rise; if we are true to plan, our statures touch the sky.

I want to pass that one to you because these past few months have been a bit of a rollercoaster. Between another fast move, freelance working picking back up, a new teaching gig, potty learning and regular summer busyness your routines and rhythms have been thrown for a loop.

For me, it’s easy to get sucked into the daily inconveniences and detours of life. But, this quote reminds me of what’s really important and what’s not worthy of more than a moment of our time and attention. To slow down, to stop multitasking every moment away. Basically, the lesson I’m trying to teach you my love is that the true measurement isn’t in what happens to us, but how we deal with it. I want us to remember that sometimes our plans don’t always work out the way we wish, and we need to rise above the clouds to get a fresh perspective. 

Moving on to a lighter note, there are three really big cool things that have happened these past six months. The first one is that you use the toilet almost all by yourself. It’s freaking amazing. 

Second is your verbal development. It seems to be out of this world. Not only have you have added a whole slew of words to your arsenal including “lethargic” “gorgeous,” “vital” and “nervous,” but now differentiate between greens, blues and reds, also using adjectives such as “lime” to “aqua” and “ruby” for various shades. Not only has your vocabulary been blowing my mind, but you speak in full and complete sentences with minimal grammatical errors. Well, except that you use your ballet terms as verbs, such as “Momma, I’m arabesquing.”

Lastly, you and your sister have started interacting more. This is quickly becoming my favorite thing. You are sharing with her, laughing with her and playing with her. You sit and read to her, comfort her when she’s crying and teach her animal sounds and numbers. Sometimes you are jealous when she’s taking my attention, but at the end of the day; a sister is a blessing. You will always, no matter what, have each other. And try as I might, I simply cannot think of anything more beautiful than that.

Yesterday you turned two and half years old. Thirty months. We spent the morning reading, we took a long walk, played puzzles, and had tea in your kitchen. In the afternoon you pretended to be a dinosaur. You helped slice the heirloom tomatoes for marinara sauce and we enjoyed homemade popsicles as an afternoon snack. We had dinner al fresco. In the morning when you woke up snuggled up in my arms, you told me that you could touch the sky. Your hands were waved high into the air, stretched as far as you could reach, fingers wriggling.

Oh, little sunshine, never stop reaching. Everyday, reach just a little bit higher.

I love you more than all the stars in the sky and the water in the ocean.

Love,

Momma