Sunday, October 12, 2014

Blanche Turns Three

I don't know if I have ever sat down and wrote a letter to Blanche. I know I have written a lot of posts about motherhood and its challenges and gifts. But there really are so many days that I wish I could tell her so many things. Many late nights where my heart forgets she's only turning three, and I think in my head apologies I will say the next day or conversations we might have. And then she wakes the next morning simply wanting juice and a show. Because she is just almost three years old. It is my heart and mind that are old and sometimes weary with worry. Blanche is a child becoming her own person, learning from the big world around, but also not seeing so many things yet. I am sure it is always harder on the parent to watch their child grow and step into such a big and messy world. Anyways, here is my letter to Blanche,

Dear Blanche,

You are the first of our family of four to wake each morning. Unless daddy has already left for work. When you were a baby you would sleep in with us, but toddlerhood has had you waking up always before nine. Sometimes it seems to be getting earlier and earlier... but I don't let my thoughts go down that scary road. I still nurse your sister back to sleep as much and often as possible. You however, wake up ready for your orange juice and show. I have prayed in the last few months that God would make me more loving to you in the mornings. Because I am not a morning person. And tearing me away from your cuddling baby sister seems a little cruel at times. But God has been giving me grace. I seem to only take about five to ten minutes now to fully wake up and not just want to crawl back under the quilts for three more hours.

Just so you know, so much of the time, I want to do what you think will be fun each day. I ask you questions like where you want to go and what you want to eat because I love you and want you to have happy days. So much of the time though, you seem to not really know what you want. You are learning though. Today you chose to ride your bike at home over going to the park. You also seem to choose chicken nuggets for lunch 93 percent of the time. I think you are probably growing.

I know you get bored. Or want me to play and stop what looks like just laying in bed with your sister. You know though that Rosemary is getting milk and going down for a nap. Sometimes like today though you try and get attention by seeing what the limits are, like drenching yourself with your water bottle while I nurse Rosemary and you watch a show. I am glad when I just let things go. Because what is done is done.

You care so much for your sister. You got a new birthday present that has marbles and you are so quick to shout each time one falls on the floor. You grab things away from Rosemary that she shouldn't have and have even held her back when glass shattered on the kitchen floor. Your spirit is kind and motherly and so loving. You now can say "Rose-mary" not "Doe-mary." Except now you seem to have a nickname of "Ra-ma" for her at times. You also pull on her neck and seem to either be jealous or just unable to control your excitement that Rosemary is in fact here in this world with us now. Sometimes we beg you to please not take her out of it. Though when we listen to your excited little screams you are saying things like, "Oh hi ya little bay-ba."

You are sensitive and creative. Emotional and friendly. You seem like you are seven some days when we have a conversation, and then we are reminded you are still two when you throw a tantrum. Your daddy says you are me, except you haven't learned to control yourself as well as I have.

There are days when all we do is butt heads, and I am so tired, and I just want you to listen. I say the same thing over and over, and I want to pull my hair out and scream.

Then there are days like today where you are almost perfect it seems. And maybe even the frustrating moments were me and not you. You played with new toys and rode your bike and made crafts. You were the perfect little girl. Continually changing between your new to you tap shoes and silver sparkly flats. You put on second hand clothes and said they were nice because they felt like pajamas. You kept calling your tap shoes "tip tops" for whatever reason. Even though we kept telling you it was called tap shoes. And you tap.

You ate a ton of broccoli for dinner. And took a bath with Rosemary and me. You filled many cups with cold bath water and had each pony in their own little tub. You protected Rosemary as I lifted up your mattress to put clean sheets on, and you had me tell you the same two stories twice.

You are beautiful and breath taking at times. And other times you wrinkle your nose and give us a rotten face. You say you are scared to use the potty but you will one day. I really wish you would.
You are helpful and now like to cook in the kitchen and love to watch daddy make coffee.

You can do puzzles and paint and make granola and you know what ingredients are... but then in other moments you still dump every toy you own into a pile on the floor. I will never understand this age called two. That place between babyhood and little girl. Some say three is worse than two. No one told me this until I had a two year old. I'm willing to take the risk though Blanche. Because you are worth it. You are worth every poopy and wet diaper that we still change. You are worth the meltdowns and the battles. You are worth it not only because I love you but because every night you snuggle up to me and give me kisses and want me to hold your hand. Motherhood started with you. You have changed me and made me a better person. You have made me learn selflessness. You made me a really great breastfeeder. Because of you I sleep right through Rosemary's nursing sessions in the night. There are days when I think maybe I will have six kids and God gave me the feisty one first, just so I would have my game face on.

Keep being you Blanche. Don't ever let me stand in the way. Go ahead and wear your tutus and tap shoes and sparkles. Leave your nails dirty from the garden and your hair wild from the wind. Keep shining and don't conform to what others tell you to be. I love you Blanche. I always have. I wanted you before I was pregnant with you. I didn't cry when I gave birth to you because I was honestly just too tired. But there are many nights I cry thinking back to that happy night. I will never be the mother I wish I could be to you. But I can honestly say almost every day I am trying my best. You already get mad at yourself for not being perfect. You scribble violently on a coloring page if you go outside the lines. You got that from me, and I am sorry. But just remember that I loved you when you weren't perfect, and that you have loved me the same.

1 comment:

  1. I stumbled upon your blog today after looking at your Instagram. I have looked at your Instagram a few times and smile each time. Mainly BC rosemary reminds me so much of our Vivi. Your pictures of daily life are real and beautiful. Just now when I read this I teared up a little when you wrote how you didn't cry when blanche was born. I didn't cry when Vivi was born either. I wanted to do it natural, the way I know I am able and created. I had this vision of me crying and laughing when she finally arrived, but instead my legs were shaking and my arms were weak and all I wanted to do was close my eyes and hibernate. I didn't reach out for her, I fell back on the bed in exhaustion. I have often felt like a horrible mother for this, but I wasn't any less excited, I just had to wait a while to feel it, to fall in love with her and marvel at the miracle. Thanks for letting me in on this post. Blanche and rosemary are beautiful by the way.