Sunday, October 21, 2007

Bye-bye baby: my girl at 3

Dear Emmy,

Today is October 21. I should have written this letter to you around August 11 but here we are. I guess it is a testament to how busy you and your sister keep me. You turned three years old in August (a fact you are always reminding me of: "I three years old!"). It amazed me then and it amazes me now. During the last week I've been organizing the photos in iPhoto and spending time looking at you during the last three years. When I look at the photos of you as a baby I can see your three-year-old face in there sometimes. When I look at you today, I can sometimes see my chubby-cheeked, rosebud-mouthed, wide-eyed beautiful baby.


The last year has been so many things to me. It has been the most challenging year of my life. You and Hope (particularly you) have kept me on my toes, exhausted me, made me laugh, made me cry, made me angry and made me learn things about myself I probably wouldn't have learned if I hadn't had you home with me this year. I am very honest in saying that Dawn closing her daycare was the best thing that ever happened to me because it meant that you have been with me every single day this past year and I have gotten to know you on a much deeper level than I did before. I know what you will always want to watch on t.v. (cooking shows), what your favourite lunch is (grilled cheese picnic in the basement), your favourite snack (apples at the moment), your favourite and least favourite friends at preschool and church, your favourite songs (The More We Work Together at the moment), favourite books (anything Curious George), your favourite spots in the house (our bed and inside your toy box), your favourite animals (Pooh and Bonhomme), your favourite spot in the yard (laying on the platform on the climber from Omi), what you like in your tea (lot of milk and a little sugar), what you like on your sandwiches (always mustard and ham), well... you get it, I think.

It also meant that you and I weathered some pretty stormy seas together the past year all on our own (with much-needed help from Daddy when required). Toilet training was the biggest hurdle for the two of us and you and I certainly butted heads on that one. But we did it! We did it well and I am so proud of us!

During the last year, you and Daddy have spent a lot more time together going on your "adventures." You've both loved this. I love how close the two of you are. You are so excited to see Daddy at the end of the day and equally excited if he is still home when you get up in the morning. You and he have favourite made-up games that usually involve rolling on the floor in some way. You will sometimes ask if I will put you to bed instead of Daddy but then when it comes down to it, you always look at me and say: "I want Daddy instead." You and he have a pretty set routine when you go to bed. I follow it but he is better at implementing it and making it more fun. I'm tired by that point and my creativity is gone. He's still totally on his game and rules the school at bedtime for sure.

At the end of this year, just before you turned three, I decided to stay home for at least another year before going back to work. It was the right decision. I wonder what you'll think of it when you look back one day? It was a very hard decision for me. I didn't want to put myself in a position where I would feel lost or adrift when I'm ready to go back to work. I also wasn't sure about delaying and possibly giving up French-language training. So, I decided to delay it for a year. I know that as next summer approaches I'll have to revisit all of those issues and in particular the issue of leaving you and Hope in someone else's care. It wasn't willing to do it this year and I very well might make the same decision next year. To be honest, I try not to think about it because the idea of not being with you tears me apart inside. Just know that staying home this year was the right decision for you AND for me and I don't regret it for one second. I could never get this time back. I can always study or pursue a career and I've always done well with whatever I choose to do so I'm not worried about it. This is what is fulfilling for me now: you and Hope and learning from the two of you every day. But also know this, if you are faced with the same decision some day, do what feels right to you and know that if you want to go to work, that's okay, too, but don't let anyone make that decision for you because you are the one who has to live the life you choose. Okay, enough Chicken Soup for the Soul, let's move on.

You are turning into a wonderful girl. Particularly this past week, I have seen what you are at your very best and I couldn't have hoped for anything else when I first held you in my arms. You are funny. You are extraordinarily smart. You are passionate. You are so loving; you have hugs and kisses for everyone, or at least everyone you know. You are also Mummy's girl and while I complain about that sometimes, truly, I don't want it any other way. You and I are two peas in a pod and I think that's why I have a lot of success now in reigning you in, controlling situations where you're getting out of control, or just understanding what's going on when you're sad or mad or tired. I understand because I would be acting the same way in that situation if I were three.

Lately you've been telling me that someday you want me to be Emily and you'll be Mummy and you'll take me to preschool and to play with Nevan and Daddy will stay home with grown-up Hopey. I find this hilarious. It also melts my heart because it points in every way to your huge capacity to love and want to take care of people. You often ask me if I'm happy or if I'm okay and every time my heart grows a few sizes. Not only does it show me how much you love and care about me, but I also know it means that you have developed a sense of empathy for people and that you are going to be an amazing adult. I'm already feeling like you are the best thing I've done so far in my life. When you're thirteen you're going to think that is totally lame and that I seriously need to get a life but when you're thirty-five and looking at your own three-year old, you'll totally get it and this will probably make you cry. Well, knowing you, I know it will.

You have really become the Great Pretender. You love to pretend anything. Sometimes it makes no sense at all and I just go along for the ride to see where we'll end up. Unfortunately, you're also starting to develop quite the bum humour, which normally I would fully applaud. Sadly, it hasn't quite developed to a sophisticated level yet but I'm hopeful.


You are becoming a pretty good big sister. You still have your moments when I think you secretly wish there wasn't anyone grabbing for your doctor set or your play food but all in all, you're pretty thrilled with Hopey. And she is smitten with you. Now that she's started to walk, you're probably going to have to become more creative in getting away from her, but I'll leave that to the two of you to figure out. I love seeing how possessive you are of her ("No, that's my sister!") when other kids try to kiss or hug her. You also continually point out her achievements to me (often long after we've mentioned them ourselves): "Mummy, she's walking!" or "Mummy, she clapped!" She's very lucky to have you as her cheering squad.


I'm starting to see in you typical three-year old behaviour. This is slightly frightening. It just means a lot of noise, a lot of emotions (that aren't easy for you or I to control), and a lot of craziness. Sometimes you lie on the floor and spin around making up words or talking about your bum, or someone else's bum and loudly laugh that fake laugh of yours. From all accounts, this is classic three-year old stuff. It's not my favourite. It's just weird. But, hey, at least I know you're normal. Hope sure gets a kick out of it, anyway.

There are lots of great things about you being three. If you miss a nap, it's not the end of the world. You can do so many more things yourself. You also can do so much more when we bake together (one of our all-time favourite activities). You can help me around the house and you love to do that. Not that I'm running a sweatshop here or anything, but I sure love the extra hands. I can also count on you to make some pretty decent decisions once in a while. Sure, you still make some mistakes but, hey, you're only three after all. You're also old enough now to go to preschool without me. This thrilled you when it first started but now it's old hat and I get the feeling that if you had the choice, I'd be there the whole time. The novelty has worn off for you but at the same time, you don't let it bother you and I do think you're enjoying your independence. I sure enjoy watching you march to the gym with the other kids while I sip my coffee in the lounge area. There goes my grown-up girl pretending to be a shark and always last in the line. Marching to her own beat. I just love it. I always feel so proud and I don't exactly know why. The other kids are good sharks, too.

Well, my girl, my Emmy, my pumpkin, my M-train. I tell you this every day, and plan to for the rest of my life: I love you so much. I'm so happy I am with you every single day to watch you become the person I see unfolding in front of me. You are the perfect three-year old for me.

4 comments:

Shan said...

Oh this made me a little weepy. Beautiful post Karen.

little b said...

It made me a lot weepy. I hope we do as good a job with Kate as you have done with Emily.

Anonymous said...

Well, at least it sounds like weepy is the norm, so I don't feel abnormal (c;
-Erika

Anonymous said...

What a beautiful letter to Emily and wonderful account of her life as you know it. She is truly a delightful person who is so fortunate to have a mom like you. Thanks for making me cry, in a good way.
-pam