THE STORY OF US: Happy Birthday to Sai-yeeeeeeeee!

Today 2 years have passed since the world welcomed you as you breathed your first breath. That day you made me a mommy, and I didn’t know what that word really meant. I remember so clearly the amazingly terrified feeling that rushed over me when I held you for the first time, not believing that you were real. Today I know all too well! Being your mommy today means listening to you call my name repeatedly, 10, 20, 30 times in a row just to tell me hi. It means watching your every move to keep you safe. It is calming your fears and encouraging your endeavors. It means I get to rock you to sleep at night and feel the weight of your little tired body relax and sink into mine. It is being keen to your hunger and your thirst before you have to tell me. It is waking up in the middle of the night to make sure you are still okay and sleeping soundly. It is studying you while you learn something new, to challenge you more and help you to persist. It means hugs and kisses and creative play and singing…lots of singing! It is a collection of moments from hour to hour that test the limits of my patience and stretch the walls of my heart so far and wide I think it may burst with overflowing love for you. This feeling has not changed since those first moments with you.

But what I never could have imagined is how you, my sweet soft itty bitty sleepy little angel that came into this world would, in two short years, become my little girl in all your glory. What I did not know was how you would look to me, how impressionable you would be; in two years you would be my daughter who would hang on to my every word and movement, who would try to breathe and move and walk and talk and sing and bend and be just like me. I did not know that my arrival would be such a momentous event each day. I did not know that a sharp look from me could cause such hurt feelings and inspire tears to well up in your big brown eyes, and that my voice and arms would have such a power to soothe and protect. I could not have known how our connection would be so strong that I would be able to see things through your little eyes and feel your joy and pain before you do. I did not imagine your amazing creativity and ability to make connections between abstract concepts at this age. I could not have imagined your stubborn determination and your constant curiosity. I didn’t know that you would be able to throw one heck of a tantrum, and that I would be able to handle it. I could not have known you would have a keen sense of humor and a knowing grin that always makes you seem a little older than you actually are.

At age 2, some things have not changed. You are still a terrrrrrible eater, and a terrrrrrrrific sleeper. I don’t know how those two go hand in hand, but you love your crib and you love going to sleep and staying that way. After we read to you each night and sing your lullabye song, you more than willingly scoot right into the very corner of your crib and go right to sleep. And when the birdies wake you up in the morning, you can go a good 30 minutes at least just singing and entertaining yourself. You usually sing ABCs which sounds like this: “ABCDEFG-esh-aah-JKNOP-coo-aah-esh-TU-weeeeeee-double-mommy-Y-and Z….No-aah-no-maah-ABC”….and then it usually trails off to “twinkle twinkle little star” or you screaming “Happy birthday to Sai-yeeeee!” You cannot pronounce the “L” sound in your name yet, and just learned your last name, which you pronounce “OJAKAAAAH.” It is seriously cute. Your ability to know your likes and dislikes at age 1 has evolved into an absolute no way no how will you be convinced to do anything other than what you want to do at any moment. “No Mommy, unh-unh” you say to me, shaking your head in defiance. Seriously cute. Infuriating, but I can’t help but smile.

At this age you are obsessed with relationships. You love your grandparents and aunts and uncles and think of them constantly throughout each day. Because their arrivals are so unpredictable and unexpected for you, you think they may happen at any moment, and each morning you run through the list to ask me who is coming that day. Regardless of my answer, which usually indicates no one is coming, you ask me about every thirty minutes, in the hopes that I may change my answer. You love old picture collages that I created years ago and can entertain yourself pointing out everyone you know and singing songs that incorporate their names (usually to the tune of twinkle-twinkle). You love to run and be chased and wrestle and have tickle fights. You squeal and giggle before anything has even happened in anticipation of all the fun that is about to. I’m so sad to see your baby fat go. At this time last year you had the most awesome chunky fat-creased legs and cheeks so chubby I didn’t know how you held your head up. You are getting skinnier by the day, and at home you are seriously hyper. Walking is hardly an option. Running only for you, my crazy. Or jumping. In public you are well-behaved and cautious, you never run around or away from me. You are observant and caring, and are always concerned about the world around you. You are always noticing other children, and if they are crying you are especially concerned. You love Chewie so much, and will stop play suddenly to go kiss him on his head and pet him for a minute. You are constantly amused by his every move. You laugh and look at me and say “Cheeeeeeeeeewwwwww-ee.” But with the good comes the bad and some days your curiousity turns mean – you try to tie rubber bands around his neck, hit him for no reason at all, and pretend to throw treats in his direction to see his reaction. And poor Chewie just loves you even more.

Your Papa, whose birthday you share today, always talks about the old days, and how time seemed to pass so much slower when I was a little girl. He wonders when and why life got so busy. His sentiment reminds me to step out of this nest and appreciate this time for what it is. Much of life is so distracted with planning and forecasting, wondering and dreaming about the next great thing, and I am guilty of living in the next moment before I have realized this one passing me by. It is natural to me to think and dream and wonder who you will be and how you will be, and constantly worried that what I do now for you will shape how you learn, get along, and grow. What we cannot know and do not know about the little girl you will grow to be is what makes life so marvelous. The other day I turned to Daddy and said, “These are the best days you know…I don’t think it gets much better than this.” And he looked at you and said “You’re probably right.” This next year will be filled with new endeavors – part-time school, potty training, and other moments I cannot yet imagine and almost don’t want to. The emotion I feel today as I reflect on the past two years is raw and real and I cannot wrap it up neatly. Submerged in the messy, crazy, wonderfully chaotic moments of our daily life, my only wish is that we appreciate this time when you are a terribly terrific two year old whose world revolves around only you and is magical and happy and overly joyous. It should only be that way and no other.

We love you love you love you our little two year old Sailee. Happy birthday to you.