Dear Maia,
I have a deep flaw that I hope you don’t inherit. It’s something I struggle with daily — hourly — and I honestly work on it. I’m trying to get past it. I don’t want to be like this. I’m a serial procrastinator, almost to the point where I think I’m mentally incapable of NOT procrastinating. And hence, why your fifteen month letter wasn’t written on time. Then, once I procrastinate something past the point of being ridiculous, I decide I just won’t do it, because it would be stupid to do it late. You see? Like this. It’s May 21st, over a week since your fifteen month birthday, and I’m finally writing this. I almost didn’t write it; I almost decided I should just skip this month because hey, screw it, I’m already so late, what’s the point? And I’m sorry. Because you deserve better than this.
But this letter shouldn’t be about me. It should be about you.
This month, I’ve begun to call you “my baby” out of sheer stubbornness, because you’re clearly a kid now. You are independent, very capable of expressing your likes and dislikes, and you like to do things on your own schedule. You’ve begun sleeping through the night most nights as well, which is amazing, although you’re still nursing (which is also, in its own way, amazing, although I won’t lie, I’m looking forward to having my boobs back to myself eventually). You’ve become more verbal, making sounds like “yiyiyi” and “bwah” and sometimes even multi-syllable sounds, and although Mama & Dada are still the only words we really hear from you, you have said “girl” (while pointing at one in a book!) and “dog”. Usually, though, you like to point at dogs and exclaim, “Ah!”
after you “helped’ us with potting plants
You love Yo Gabba Gabba. Even the mention of that phrase makes you giggly and giddy. When the television’s off, you’ll sometimes grab the remote and wave it around while pointing at the screen, babbling very seriously. You want to watch your show. If I turn the television on and it’s NOT your show, you babble even more seriously at me. It’s pretty hilarious. I just distract you by taking you outside!
Sometimes those jaunts outside end up at Starbucks, which is a place you dearly love. The blended strawberry lemonade basically makes your day. I can’t even carry it when we buy it, because YOU want to, and whatever, who am I to deny you the simple pleasure of holding a cool drink on a hot day?
We’ve been able to spend a nice amount of time outdoors, particularly in the last week or so. You love to take the dogs’ leashes in hand and wander around the area, laughing and exploring your world. The dogs were pretty bad at letting you handle them at first, but they’ve fortunately gotten to be a lot better about it and the three of you have a blast now.
When we’re inside together, though (as we have been a lot this month — the weather’s been unseasonably cold), you like to show off your climbing skills. You get on top of the couch and prance back and forth along the top of it, although fortunately — for now at least — you listen when we tell you to sit down. You use a laundry basket as a stepping stool to climb up into my computer chair, and if the chair isn’t facing so you can sit down in it, then you just grab the back of it and hang there until you let yourself go. SERIOUSLY, MAIA. You monkey.
On a less stressful note, however, you also like to play with your blocks, read books, and draw.
You’re the center of my world; you keep me grounded. Your beautiful smile is the first thing I think of every morning when I hear you calling out for me from your room. I will never forget when we sat on the couch together, you in my lap, and dipped a chocolate chip-studded granola bar into peanut butter to share with one another, or how you spin yourself in circles until you get “ditzy” then laugh and laugh when you fall on your bum, or how you start to dance at the merest hint of a sing-song tone in my voice. I will never forget when you climbed up onto the chair beside me on the balcony and we both read our own books, or the way your eyes grew huge and wet when you tasted the bit of Nutella I smeared on a cherry for you. You are forever making some little sort of mischief, whether it’s opening the cereal cabinet and helping yourself to handfuls, chasing the dogs around with a plastic spoon in hand, or pulling out your hair clips.
I want you to know, Maia, that despite my procrastination on things like writing, I never procrastinate on you. You are my number one priority. Always.
We love you desperately,
Mama & Dada.
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