Letters to Isabel, Months 37 and 38

Dearest Isabel,

Boy, I seem to have fallen very behind on these letters. That did not take long, did it? We are having an awesome summer together. Honestly, we have just been having too much fun to sit down and blog about it. It is almost too fast, I wish I could put our lives in slow motion right now. It does not feel like there is enough time to properly soak in all the joy in our lives.

Your mama has always had trouble during times like these. When there is a crisis to deal with, I am The Prepared One. I know how to function, to get through things one day at a time. It seems counterintuitive to complain when things are going so great, and I am working really hard to just enjoy our life and not scramble around trying to figure out when the other shoe is going to drop.

You help me so much in this, dearest. Yesterday during the little kids’ naptime you were waiting impatiently for me to get done with my chores so that I could read you a story.

“Not now, honey.” I kept saying. “I’m just too busy”.

Then I remembered that I was supposed to be including you in the clean up process, to teach you about responsibility and ensure that you learned to take pride in accomplishing tasks which leads to a healthy self-esteem and blah blah blah. I turned to you dutifully.

“Isabel, can you be my biiiiiiig helping girl and pick up these toys?”
You glanced at me balefully from the sofa.
“Not now, Mommy. I’m just too busy!”

Touché, little one.

Eventually we finished our clean up and finally snuggled up on the couch together. You heaved a great big sigh and said,

“Ahhhhhhh! The best part of the day!”

I can’t begin to describe how that felt, and the sunshine that you bring into my life at the most unexpected moments. When I am tired, frustrated, feeling sorry for myself, ready to sell you to the gypsies; all it takes is one little sweet word from you, one unexpected kiss, to bring me to my knees with gratitude. And I know that I am not alone in this. You spread smiles like peanut butter, to anyone and everyone you meet. You are the friendliest little thing, and you looooove an audience. We recently took a trip to Philly to visit your Aunt Katie; and while we were there you took your first cab ride. You hopped in and immediately started bombarding the driver with your usual barrage of questions,

“Guy? Hey guy! Look at my new shoes, guy! They’re soo beauuutiful! Guy? We’re going to a fancy restaurant, guy! A faaaaaancy restaurant! Just like Fancy Nancy! Hey, guy, talk to me! Are you driving, guy? When are you gonna talk? When you stop driving. When you stoooooop driving you can talk to me, ok, guy? When you stop…”

This continued for 23 minutes. No joke. I don’t know how that driver managed it, but he did not look at you or acknowledge your existence once. You were flabbergasted. You had never met an adult that did not melt into putty with one bat of your eyelashes. This guy was not amused by you. Your Dad and Aunt Grace and I could not stop laughing.

You are constantly cracking us up. One of your favorite games begins with you running up to your Daddy and asking, “What do you eat for breakfast, Daddy?” His eyes will widen dramatically and he will answer, “I eat THREE YEAR OLD GIRLS!” He then will chase you around and pretend to gobble you up. A few weeks ago, in the midst of this game you screeched, “Don’t eat me Daddy! I’m too skinny!” Where do you come up with stuff?

Oh my goodness, I don’t know how I can cram in everything I want to remember about you at this stage in your life. The way you pretend to be a dinosaur. The way you tenderly mother your Duckie through imaginary illnesses. The way you bop your head and sing along to your favorite songs on the radio. The way your eyes widen when you are about to do something silly. How whenever I get stressed out or grumpy you pat me tenderly on the arm and say, “Don’t worry, Mommy. Everything will be all right.”

It’s more than all right, darling. It is wonderful.

Love,

Mama

Letters to Isabel, Month 35

Dear Isabel,

Today you turn 35 months old. Well, technically you turned 35 months old last Tuesday, but we have been way too busy lately for me to get a chance to write this. We had two really fun holidays this month! Now that you are getting old enough to understand and anticipate holidays, I find I am enjoying them like I never have before.



We had a visit from the Leprechauns on Saint Patrick’s Day. They left green footprints all over the place and a special treat for you and your brother. We ate green eggs and ham and made shamrock crafts. Yours was a little abstract.

It basically consisted of you squeezing as much Elmer’s glue as possible out of the bottle before I took it from you and forced you to actually stick things onto your paper with it. Most of your crafts lately look like that. I have to feed my inner perfectionist a loooooot of Valium in order to avoid stifling your creativity. And boy, have you got some creativity.

You, child, are a glorious mess. How I love you for it. You have taught me how to take a deep breath and remind myself that finger-paint will eventually be cleaned up, but that the memories we are making will last forever. And you know what? You are fairly washable. Thank goodness.

Speaking of messes, can we talk about Easter? Oy.



I have many pictures of you looking very cute in your Easter clothes, but this one really sums up the holiday best. Coated inside and out with chocolate, buzzing hard on sugar, and wearing butterfly wings. We had a family party at Nanny’s house and man, did you have a lot of candy. Every adult there took nearly obscene delight in stuffing you full. I almost felt sorry for you. We took you home that afternoon and you curled up on your Dad’s shoulder and said, “Guys? I don’t think we should eat any more candy because it’s not very good for us.” Then I did feel sorry for you. I even threw out the candy you collected during the Easter egg hunt because, really, enough is enough.

All that being said, I hope you are ready to be spoiled rotten yet again in a few more weeks. That is right; the long-awaited birthday party is finally at hand. I may have begun preparing you for this a bit early. For the last month you have talked about little else. It has gotten to the point that any time you ask for anything and I say “no” you reply, “maybe for my birthday?”
It is going to be very fun, though. Hopefully I will be able to keep the sugar to a minimum. I may put the following picture on the fridge to remind myself what happens when you have too much of the white stuff.



Darling girl, it is hard to believe you are going to be three. I don’t know if I am ready. You sure are, though. You have the three-year-old debate skills down pat. For instance, not long ago you were busily jumping up and down when I thought I smelled an accident in your pull-up.

“Isabel”, I said sternly. “Come over here and let me change you.”

Without skipping a beat you bent down and scooped a plastic banana off the floor. You looked at me with the air of one who has the weight of immutable logic on her side. Still hopping, you raised your eyebrows and replied,

“Does a monkey get changed? Nooooo!”

I love you, little monkey, and can’t wait to see what next month brings us.



Love,
Mama

Letters to Isabel, Month 34

Dear Isabel,

Today you turn 34 months old. I will always remember this as the month of “Here’s what’s going to happen”. Ah, that magic, magic phrase. See, every two weeks our local library has a story time for two year olds. This story time has become a very special tradition for you and Nanny. Every other Thursday she and GG pick you up and take you to the library. Afterwards they take you to McDonald’s for your favorite meal in the whole wide world, chicken nuggets and “tench fries”.


Well, two weeks ago I had scheduled your brother’s routine checkup for Thursday morning during your library time. Nanny called just as we were leaving to say that she was taking you home early due to the fact that you had morphed into the biggest spaz this side of the Mississippi. No story time. No tench fries. You were both crushed. I went to pick you up from her house and when I saw you there sheepishly eating your turkey sandwich I was filled with this great sadness for you. At your age it is primarily my responsibility to help you learn how to behave. The truth is, lately it had become much easier to give into your tantrums than to discipline you consistently. I thought I had been doing my best, but I realized at that moment that I could do better.

So. That day began The Crackdown. The new policy was: We would make sure we were taking the time to explain what we expected of you. We would make sure that our expectations were reasonable. We would employ a zero tolerance policy when it came to acting up. Rather than letting the behavior go on for several minutes, we would put you right in time out.








Pshew! Sounds rough, huh? And it was rough. For about 6 hours. The first day of The Crackdown saw you in Time Out about 8 times before lunch. Then something happened. You began to act up that afternoon, and I gave you a stern look and said, “Are you going to disobey?” You thought about it for a minute and decided it wasn’t worth it. Finally, we were getting on the same page. I probably ask you that question ten times a day now. Sometimes you say, “yes”, but most of the time you get yourself under control. I am so proud of you, I could burst!





Our communication has reached another level these last few weeks. Sometime during The Crackdown, it occurred to us that we seemed to be having most of our problems during transition times, or unfamiliar experiences. That’s when we discovered, “Here’s what’s going to happen”. Before a transition, or before we begin something that we know you won’t like, or if you are just starting to get anxious, your Dad or I will look you in the eye and say, “Isabel, here’s what’s going to happen…”. We will describe the event to you in great detail. And about ninety percent of the time, you move smoothly into the activity with little fuss. Magic! Turns out you just really don’t like things being sprung on you.

Not a surprise. You are very into control these days. Even more so than most other kids your age, I think. You don’t like being hugged or kissed, unless you initiate the contact. You hate being tickled, but every now and then you will lie down on the floor and tickle yourself. It drives you completely mad that your brother is starting to cruise the furniture and get into your toys. You’ve taken to carrying around armloads of your favorite toys to keep them safe from his deadly grasp. We call it your Entourage. Here you are simultaneously protecting two Duckies, a hippo, a tiny rabbit, a plastic hanger which you have decided is a candy cane, and your fire truck. Being a big sister is exhausting!



All this has not boded well for potty training. You are a smart kid and you get the idea. You are not opposed to it, per se, but you really want your bodily functions to adhere to your schedule. You do not like having to plan your activities around the potty. We’ve promised you that when you are a “big girl” that we will get you a goldfish, and you want one. Bad. So at this point we are just waiting. But we do have a preschool deadline, honey. The deposit is paid and everything, so…any day now, okay?

You are definitely ready for preschool. You ask to go there almost every day. This is a huge shocker, as you have always acted as though all other children are covered in acid and the merest contact with one will burn you. You’ve become a lot more comfortable around other kids for some reason. Yay! I can’t wait to see how you do there. I can’t wait to see what the next month brings. Every day it seems I get to know you a little bit better as your vocabulary and your imagination and your communication skills grow. You are an extraordinary little person, and I am so blessed to have you in my life.
Love,
Mama