OLIVE: MONTH 36

Dear Olive,

Your birth came late one night without any warning, strong and fierce and a week early, without any doubt.  I was eating a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios at ten o'clock at night when my water broke right there in the kitchen with an audible popping sound, as if to announce "I'm ready, it's time!". I stood there calling for your dad and shaking in anticipation and excitement because I would finally meet you and be introduced to the baby who kicked so assertively in my womb the past months.  It's actually fun writing this post now, three years later, because nothing could be more appropriate to your personality than the way you entered this world: assuredly, determined, and loudly - crying instantly and making yourself known.   

I can hardly find the words to describe what these last three years have been like with you. There aren't any words to describe the amount of chaos and fatigue and sheer, absolute overwhelm. I feel like I owe you a thousand apologies for all the things that I haven't done with you (as well as the blog posts that I've missed).  Life changed the very second that you were born. I thought of your sister and how she would be so excited to finally meet you. I worried about the transition of bringing you home and how everyone would settle. I was told over and over how it would be different this time around because for one thing, I knew what I was getting into. Secondly, your sister existed and NEVER would there be a time where it was just you and me. All of these notions I carried with me to your birth, packed neatly in my hospital bag between diapers, blankets and a few cute outfits.

There are a few things that nobody told me. For a few long hours after your birth when it was just you and I, I fell in love with you so absolutely and with an abandon I couldn't be present for the first time around. I couldn't take my eyes off of you.  We nursed together nonstop with no problems.  You had tiny little elf ears that pressed flat on top, two little faint purple spots on your nose that got darker when you cried, and the thinnest layer of dark fuzzy hair.  Your eyes were almond shaped like your dad's, your eyebrows his as well, and you were the tiniest baby I had ever seen in my life, at a little over six pounds. Only I could soothe you and it made my heart and my body respond with something so primal, something I didn't have the wherewithal to notice the first time around.  I kept kissing you and smelling you (oh, your smell!) and cuddling you with an intensity that could only come from being my second child. It was just you and me, and the whole world. Three years later, I can still be transported right back to those first 24 hours where nothing else in the world existed except the bond between you and I. From the second your daddy placed you on my chest I have never been more sure of anything in my life: It is possible to love something so much that it hurts, a second time.

When it was finally time for our bubble to burst and to share you with the rest of the world, I got the privilege of introducing you to your sister. Your daddy and Grandma and Papa and Nono were there. Vivienne was so excited and in awe to meet you but at the same time looked at you as if she'd always known it was you. That first meeting between the two of you, and the last three years of watching the two of you together, has been the most gratifying journey of my life thus far. You love each other in a way that can't be forced, as if it was always meant to be.

As you turn three this year, I apologize my sweet girl, for all the things that I haven't been able to keep track of (including this blog). When I asked you what kind of birthday you wanted this year you replied that you wanted "rainbows". And family only. You are not the party lover that your sister is, so we will celebrate you with your favorite people: your cousins, your aunts, uncles, and grandparents. While you don't love public attention, you are deeply affectionate with those you love. In fact, your fierceness does not stop at love. I've had to teach you these past few months to stomp on the ground when you get mad because if you don't, the door to your bedroom gets slammed so hard it rattles the entire house. "I AM SO FRUSTRATED!!" has become a household phrase with you, standing there with your little arms crossed over your body, curly little tendrils dropping into your face, and a raised foot ready to stomp it out. I hear all time how competent you are my little one. You're only turning three but to most people you seem that you are at least five years old. You're big for your age and wickedly smart which can be hard for people around you to assume that you are anything less. As your mama though, I know underneath that tough intellect is really just my two, almost-three-year-old, who wants so badly to be in first grade with her sister but also won't give up her baby bottles. And you have spent many a timeout in your room, especially lately, but I love you in those moments of grief just as fiercely as I do any other. It's impossible not to, standing there naked with your little undies riding up one side, and your arms crossed over your marker stained chest.  

Things you love: NOODLES (of any kind), french fries, milk, sleeping and cuddling, your bouncy horse Charlie, stomping in puddles, your sister, reading books and reciting them back, being at your sister's school, your sister, family movie night, riding your tricycle, cheese and black olives, anything your sister does or has,

It's funny how life works my dear Olive bird. What happens in the relationship between a parent and a child is an exploration and examination of what she thinks she has come to know as absolutes about herself. You are the child that looks nothing like me and yet you also challenge the most underlying characteristics of my personality. I'm willing to bend and accept these things because I cannot contain your spirit, not that I would want to. Watching you maneuver through life makes me think you're on to something. You take my world and you shake it up, turn it upside down and set it on fire. And suddenly I realize I kind of like it that way. And I would never have known that without you. I wouldn't have experienced this depth of feeling without you, and for that alone I am grateful to be your momma. I love you with everything I can, and when

LETTER TO VIVIENNE: MONTH 60.

Dear Vivienne,

Last month you turned five years old, something I never imagined happening when you were first born.  I come back to that memory of you often, your little pink face staring into mine with big, open eyes, as they placed you on my exhausted chest.  You were making little noises as you took your first breaths, and we met each other for the first time.  I cannot believe you have been in our lives for five years.  Or has it only been that long?  Your birthday also happened to land on your first day of Kindergarten which made everything extra special, (or extra emotional - whichever way you're willing to look at it).

You are almost completely self sufficient now, Viv.  You get up in the morning and brush your own teeth, get yourself dressed, and pretty much anything else I'm willing to let you do.  I'll admit I still want to help you with everything, and I'm trying to let go more, let you have the autonomy that comes with being a five year old.  You are literally the best big sister I could ever have imagined for Olive.  You do everything with her in mind.  If she cries, you are right there to investigate the problem.  You want to hold her and kiss her first thing every morning.  You've come up with countless nicknames for her, you follow her around while she crawls pretending to chase her, you let her take most any toy she wants - even if it's directly out of your hand.  Your dad and I both high five each other all the time at what an amazing big sister you've become.  It's really been a joy to watch the two of you fall in love.

Since the arrival of your sister last Christmas, your father and I have been making an extra effort to really savor the moments with you like never before.  I remember when you turned one and clapped through your entire party at all the guests.  I remember the way you would say "nilch" for "milk" and the way your little hugs felt whenever we would say "give love".   Sometimes I take a deep breath into your cozy blanket just to smell you, and it's as if I've just stepped back in time.  As soon as you learned to walk all you wanted to do was run everywhere.  You still do.  We have several talks about what it means to be a "grown up".  You've always been an old soul in a tiny body, but lately you are obsessed with what it will be like when you are a teenager or when daddy and I are older.  Sometimes these things cause you anxiety, to which I can only say that everything will be ok, and that you have a  long, long time until you are completely grown.  This seems to do the trick.  You still believe that I hold all the answers to life, which is both amazing and humbling.

Kindergarten has been a huge deal for all of us, and your dad and I were so nervous about this transition for you, given we just moved from the city.  Besides a few tummy aches and a couple of really hard homesick moments, you have handled everything beautifully.  Can we just talk about school for a moment?  SCHOOL.  I never really considered that I was going to have to live through school all over again with you.  But here I am getting up early with you, making sure you're there on time, worrying about whether or not you're meeting your challenges and if you're drinking enough water, and preemptively throwing up at the thought of the exams in the years to come.

One fantastic thing about Kindergarten is that it has given you an immediate community, and the friends you've already made have given you such a sense of confidence and pride that it's inspiring to watch.  You are thriving with a whole new set of rules and people and a set of principles that are outside of our home.  I love watching you navigate life and all the circumstances that come up with your new found realities.  You are an amazing kid, Vivienne.  You need to know this.  Your heart is immensely big, and you feel things to the fullest.  Maybe it's because you're a lot like me, but I know these feelings can sometimes be overwhelming for you.  I watch you try to make sense of them all, in a world where sometimes it feels as though it would be easier to feel less.  Trust me when I say they are a gift.  I will always try to answer your questions in the most honest way I can, and know that I think your mind is absolutely beautiful.  You are beautiful.

Since we still live at Grandma's our commute to school is extra long.  I thought this was going to be such a challenging imposition, but it's actually turned out to be one of my most cherished moments of the day.  We have an uninterrupted hour to do nothing but talk.  This is your favorite thing.  We talk about life, big and small.  Today we talked about Halloween and poop.  Yesterday it was your friend Jude that we talked about, and why boys seem to act differently than the girls at school.  A few days ago you were telling me that you couldn't wait to be a teenager, because "teenagers can drive".  We then proceeded to talk about how when you learn to drive you will most likely drive me around.  I made a big deal about this and told you I was very excited for that day.  We talked about how one day you'll be driving on your own.  Your demeanor changed at this thought, you looked up at me very seriously and said to me in the sweetest, serious voice, "but mommy, I don't want to be on my own...I could get lost in this big world, you know!..."  You will never know how my heart felt in that moment, Vivi.  Let me tell you now that I will never let you get lost.

You have changed so much since that late evening that you joined us in September of 2009.  I imagine I won't ever stop feeling like I have a portion of my brain that will always be dedicated to you, won't ever stop wondering where you are and what you are doing, won't be able to escape the constant, nagging hope that you are happy and fulfilled.  My heart always feels like it's beating on the outside of my chest, thanks to you.  I can't thank you enough for the dimension that this has added to what it means to be alive.

I adore you.  Keep growing strong, and know that I'm right here with you, always.

Love, Mama

MOMENTS NOT TO FORGET.

OLIVE, MONTHS 6-8.

Dear sweet Olive Bird,

The last few months have been the craziest of transitions, with moving from San Francisco and getting settled in Sacramento.  But amidst all of this you are just completely delectable my babe.  People have a hard time resisting you with your toothy little smile, and your sparkly little eyes.  You're crawling and pulling yourself up.  You're saying "dada" and "dog" and some others we're not completely sure about.  You want to do everything your sister does, and she is still quite possibly the best thing that ever happened to you.  You've always been very curious and very observant, and I love watching your little mind work.  We have a few more weeks until we move into our home, and your sister just started Kindergarten, and I actually can't wait until things settle down and I have some time to take a few deep breaths with you - just you and I.

I love being with you and getting to know you. You are strong willed, but oh so sweet.  You are the cuddliest.  You point and reach for things you want, and you refuse baby food, but love everything that the adults are eating.  You're still my mama's girl.  I am completely smitten with you, my love.  You make everything complete.

Keep growing and getting stronger.  I'll be here watching and cheering!

Love,
Mama

CATS

Viv saw the theater production of Cats awhile back and has since been acting it out every chance she gets.  She rotates characters and puts on performances all. the. time.  I'm not much of a Cats person, but her love of it has made me reconsider.  We actually have delved into the meaning a bit, and we've looked at every YouTube video of Memories that ever existed.  This kid is an actor, and we're going to jump into it when we move to Sacramento.  Now we just need to show her a different play for some variety!

x
A.

FLASHBACK FRIDAY

Olive has truly tripled in size and personality, since this first week of her life.  We've been growing and expanding around here.  Despite all the buzz and chaos of moving, these two have entwined themselves together like an old, familiar quilt.  Watching the two of them become sisters has been nothing short of magical.  It's the single most surprising thing about my motherhood journey so far.  I had no idea how much they would love each other.  While I'm sure the whining and bickering will one day creep in a bit, I'm so ready to witness this journey they're on.  

Here's to sisterhood.

x

A. 

OLIVE, MONTH 4.

My little Olive Bird,

You're four months old!  And 16 pounds!  And every bit of you is delicious.  We have been in the middle of some serious life changing times, and sometimes life feels so chaotic and scary that I'm afraid I will miss your tiny little moments.  But then I'm reminded that I am so lucky to get to be home with you - that it's my privilege to do the everyday with you.  I may not be writing down your every giggle, but I can promise you that I am witnessing you grow every day, and I am loving you through every bit of the process.  You have fit into our family like the perfect piece.  You've been coming into your own, and getting a bit of a routine - and every day around 4:30 you wait for your daddy's chest to lay on for an afternoon nap.  You laugh, and you are trying to roll over.  You're super content, a happy baby, who is taking everything in with a quiet confidence.  You've discovered your voice in a big way this month, and have been experimenting with all the different octaves.  It's quite hilarious.  You are still a complete and total Mama's girl, and I soak up every minute of it.

The moments you have with your sister are so precious, and hilarious!  Daddy and I often joke that we don't even need outside entertainment anymore, we can watch your sister perform death defying acts just to see you giggle "one last time".  No one makes you laugh like she does.  She adores you Olive, and has taken to calling you "Booshka-Toot".  It kinda stuck (sorry about that).

The other day I was feeling down and overwhelmed due to the reality that I don't have the time to give to you that I had with your sister.  I felt panicked that I was missing something, or that you weren't getting all that you deserved.  But then your sister came out of her room and walked over to you and said  (in her sing-song voice that always makes you smile), "HI OLIVE!  Let Sissy hold you!  Hi Booshka-Toot!  Vivi loves YOU!"  And you lit up in a way I could never make you light up.  I felt so content I couldn't even speak.  It dawned on me right there that you don't have everything she had.  You have more.  You have her.  And that is the best gift we could ever give you.

We adore you our sweet Olive Jane.  Keep growing strong.

Love,
Mama