Dear, sweet little Lou-Lou,
As your mommy, it has been my privilege to watch you approach milestones and celebrate with you when you reach them. I remember when you first flashed a gummy smile at me, when you took off crawling to chase one of the cats, when you let go of the ledge of the coffee table and took your first confident steps towards me. I remember when you first said "Kee" for kitty, when you (finally) slept through the night, when you said, "I wub you". You have met each milestone with exuberance (except for maybe rolling over, which required you to be on your tummy, which, let's face it--you hated), and each time part of me is so very proud of you, and part of me is just a little sad that my baby girl is getting big so fast.
Today, sweetpea, we reached another milestone. The doorbell rang around 10:00, and two nice men from the furniture store came and brought your "big girl" bed. You already knew it was coming--Daddy and I talked about it with you, told you it was on its way, talked in excited voices to make you excited, too--and I think it worked. I missed the first time you saw it all put together because I was putting your sister down for a nap, but a few minutes later I walked into your room, and there you were, jumping and smiling and having the time of your life.
We put the sheets and blanket on after lunch (an owl blanket to match the pictures on your walls), and you hopped right in and pulled the blanket up to your chin, and told me, "I go to sleep." You played happily for probably close to half an hour, and begged me to put Ellie on the bed with you. As you hid from her under the blankets and shouted your laughter when she found you, I imagined the two of you, years from now, whispering secrets to one another in the dark, just like I did with Auntie Rachel. Daddy came in and asked if I was as sad as I had expected to be, but at that moment I wasn't. I was just glad you were excited.
And then, after a busy day, bedtime came.
Daddy was so worried about how it would go. He just wanted you to feel secure, and he knows so well that your sensitive little spirit doesn't always take change well. So we approached bedtime just like normal. He brought you out to the living room after your bath, and you gave me a kiss as you told me about the oranges and cherries on your Minnie Mouse jammies. Then Daddy sat down with you and started to sing.
I have a little donkey, he's grey....
I have heard that song a thousand times since I was your age. I remember your great grandma singing it to me, and your Pampa, who sang it and rocked me when I was probably far too old to be sang to and rocked (though truth be told, I never really think you are too old). I sang it to you for months before my tummy was so swollen with Ellie that Daddy had to take over your bedtime routine, and he's sung it every single night since then.
After the Donkey Song, Daddy started singing his own version of a song from The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly--same melody, different words every time. As he started the second verse, you said, "I go a bed." Daddy said, "Do you want to go to bed?" and you said "Okay." So down the hall he went with you, singing, willing you to be comforted into sweet dreams. He came out a few minutes later, and we looked at each other and crossed our fingers.
A few minutes later, your cries told us our hopes had been in vain, at least this time.
Daddy brought you back out and sang again, and I took Ellie into another room to get her jammies on. I heard Daddy coming down the hall with you, and a few minutes later I braved the squeak of the door and stepped into the hall to see if it had been a success. Daddy was just coming out of your room, and he motioned to me to come in. And there you were, Lou. Curled up on your side under your owl blanket, your still-wet hair resting on your new pillow, eyes closed and peace on your face, looking so tiny and so big at the same time. And then I cried.
You are getting big on me so fast, and it is a hard blessing. Hard, because I am aware of how fast this time is going and how powerless I am to stop it, and hard because I feel like if I'm not careful I'm going to turn around and you'll be out the door to your senior prom and where has my little girl gone? And a blessing, because you are here, and you are thriving. The fact is, Elaina, your daddy and I are more blessed by you than we ever knew was possible. You are LIFE, already passionate, willful, hilarious, and sweet--and not even quite 2 1/2. Sometimes you make me want to pull my hair out, only to make me laugh so hard I have to sit down a few minutes later. You know who you are, you know who you love, and you know who loves you so very, very much.
Sleep well tonight, sweet baby, and tomorrow morning Daddy will go and get you and you will be smiling and ready to start another every day adventure. Until then, sweet dreams, baby girl.
I love you,
Mommy
