Sunday, August 02, 2015

Letter to my wild bird: 42 months

Dear sweet Lily-girl,
Last week, we took a family day trip into the city where we rode cable cars and ate giant cups of ice cream and slowly wandered through our favorite parts of our favorite city. At the end of the day, as we walked back to the car, you spotted an art gallery and asked to go in. All five of us were on the brink of meltdown but I couldn’t say no. You slowly walked through, studying each piece, first up close and then from a distance. I see you come around the corner calling for me, “Momma, come. Come here. I want to show you something.” You pulled me over to sit next to you on the floor, and snuggled into my lap. “Momma, This. IS. An. AWESOME. Picture. Really look Momma. Look at the blue waves that touch the orange sky. See that tiny bird with the very, very, long tail. See him flying through the sky? See. He makes you feel that we can do anything. Anything we want. This is just so awesome.”

As I’m sitting there, in the middle of a San Francisco fine art gallery, you snuggled on my lap, your voice a whisper, your hair a tangled mess plastered across your face, examining this piece of art that speaks to you I was reminded of a poem by Saul Williams: 

i have faith
in who you are becoming
in who you are
you are the wolf
having run through a stream
to stand on a mountain peak
dripping wet

At three and a half years I marvel at your confidence. I admire your independence. I delight in your creativity. You are so amazingly colorful, determined and absolute. Watching your personality develop feels a little bit magic to me, like watching a wizard banish a dragon or seeing a fairy fly by in the woods. I’m not sure I have ever enjoyed anything as much as I have enjoyed watching your personality develop.
However, many days I consider mothering you to be exhausting. The first reason is the inexplicable obsession with negotiating with me. I tell you, three more minutes at the park, you say. “SIX.” I offer ten chocolate chips for dessert tonight, and you shout “SIX.” It is driving me crazy, child, CRAZY. Someday when you are seventeen and you’re wondering why I only give you six potato chips in your lunch or I end all your curfews on a six, like 11:56 pm, it is, my darling girl, because of this. 

Besides training to be a littly lawyer, you are insanely creative. You love to tell us stories that are blends of your life and the fluff (elves, griffins and pirates, oh my!) that we generally fill your head with. A couple of weeks ago on our family vacation to North Lake Tahoe we went on a four-mile hike. A few minutes on the trail and you were in the zone. You had your wand (the perfect stick you found). We were following the rainbown path, hunting for the diamond snowflakes. You were the princess pirate on a mission to save the Emerald Treasure (Violet, asleep on my back). You and Daisy created characters, backstories and powers for each of us feeding off each other and the story unfolding as you told it. Working together to trick the bad guys trying to steal our treasure, and cheering on and encouraging one another in the story, on the hike and in life.  
I marvel at you my sweet Lily girl, at how you can be at once a big kid, imagining sword fighting and pirate treasures, and a little girl, snuggled up in her momma’s arms. I know I say this constantly, but ever time you reach a new phase, I am convinced that this age is my very favorite.

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

Love, Momma

No comments: