Yesterday you turned two years old and, as I will do probably every year at this time until the day I die, I went back to the photos of you and I just after you were born, snuggled up together on that hospital bed. Time has flown so quickly and yet it seems impossible that there was ever a life before you.
Instead of throwing a lavish party this year, we went to Gilroy Gardens Theme Park – a theme park especially for toddlers and young children. Of course, it was my idea to make you sit in a car for three hours each way, without knowing if you would even go on any of the rides. Especially given your rather fearful streak recently – you freak out at moving cars in parking lots – the odds didn’t look good. But, as I will always try to do for you, I wanted to give you the chance to make up your own mind, not be held-back by my fear of what might happen.
Of course, I was secretly (ok, not so secretly) hoping that you would love it. You see, as you’ll learn as you start to get older, your mother LOVES theme parks and rides; in fact, the scarier the better. (I’m the same way about movies too – watch out!) So your Nan, Grandad, and Dad knew (although they never said out loud) that there was a lot riding on your big day. Would you be a companion to your mother’s thrill-seeking shenanigans or would you stand on the sidelines and roll your eyes at me?
Recently, you have been a bit clingy, so I had reason for concern. I don’t do well with clingy – sorry, I love you but it makes me want to hyperventilate (or drink wine, maybe both some days). There’s not enough time or money to psychoanalyze just why, besides I’d rather spend the $$ on you. You’ve also been a little bit of a scaredy-cat. You opened a book on the morning of your birthday and practically threw it across the room because you were scared of the snail in it. (Of course, I missed the irony in the fact that I still do the same thing with snakes.)
In all honesty, if I took recent evidence alone, going to a theme park sounded like the WORST idea EVER.
Yet, as you have done consistently since the day you popped out (a girl, not the anticipated boy) you surprised me. You ran right up to the first ride – a car ride you would need to ride on solo – let me strap you in, didn’t blink an eyelid as I walked away from you, waited patiently (yes YOU, patiently – imagine that!) for the ride to start, sat still all the way through (gasp!), and jumped off only to run right into the line for the next ride.
I’ll tell you now, I fought back tears watching you ride around in circles on that little car. It seems stupid and a little shallow, perhaps, given the many achievements in your short life already, but I was so proud of you at that moment. You were so brave and grown-up. I had to pick up my camera and start snapping or I would have bawled my eyes out.
The whole day kind of went like that. What I thought would be a 2-hour visit, max, turned into a five hour stay, with you waiting patiently in line for the next ride and jumping feet-first into every new experience we threw at you. You were fun and funny, brave and beautiful and I had THE BEST time hanging out with you. There couldn’t have been a better day to encompass everything I love about who you are.
Daisy, you are everything I ever wished for in a daughter and so much more that I didn’t know to even ask for. You are smart and inquisitive, goofy and silly, energetic and enthusiastic, loving and gentle, independent and willful, all wrapped into your small 24lbs (barely) frame. So small and yet so powerful; full of personality and potential.
As you will no-doubt read when I turn these blog entries into printed diaries some day soon, I did not exactly enter or embrace motherhood with open arms. I was scared of losing myself to the role of mother, reluctant to change a fun and selfish life, and full of determination to be as little impacted as possible by my new child.
I was an idiot.
There’s not a plane ride or happy hour in the world that could replace the feeling of watching you go in circles on that little yellow car. In fact, no trip would be perfect any more without you to share it, and no happy hour enjoyable if I couldn’t come home to kiss your peachy-cheeks.
Happy 2nd Birthday, Daisy Margaret. I look forward to you surprising me on many more great adventures this year.
Fore more birthday fun photos, click here
4 comments:
Beautiful letter, Mom! We plan to take katie on the same adventure soon :o)
Happy birthday, Mum!!
Cried reading this. Happy Birthday Daisy. You are an amazing little girl.
Awww crap...I cried! (and yes, I grin at the 'I was an idiot line...)
This is a beautiful letter, and Daisy and you are both so lucky to have each other. Seeing you holding Daisy the first time was such a precious memory to me too. I saw how you transformed into this mother while keeping (most of) your personality intact. This is a wonderful (but very tiring...) journey and I'm so privileged to be walking along side.
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