Where We Are: Adelaide at 2.5 years

Dreamer

Dear Addie,

It took me a very long time to complete this post, not least because you wrote all over my computer monitor with colored pencil. As in, I could not see the monitor for the very exuberant scribbles that covered every inch of it. (A Google search reveals that this is not uncommon and a little hand soap and a microfiber cloth have repaired the damage).

I didn't take a picture of the screen because I was too mad at you. You could see that I was furious (I think it was the crazy eyes and veins sticking out of my throat that clued you in) and you ran over to me, grabbed my hands, squeezed your eyes shut and said "Dear God. Pweeze help Mommy be patience." And I couldn't help but laugh. That's as good an illustration of any at you at 2.5 years old: moments of extreme misbehavior swiftly followed by disarmingly sweet and charming reactions that completely undermine my righteous wrath.

The closest I could get to catching your smile!

I think we will keep you. Though after you finger painted your bathroom in feces for the second time in the same day, it was a close call.

You always want a book when you go to the potty. Here you are reading Golf Digest.

 This is the first time that I've written directly to you instead of about you. And I will write about you again, at least until you get old enough to issue a "cease and desist" order. But as you get older, I feel more and more like the posts about you are actually for you.

Yes, I use this blog to keep our far flung family and friends updated on our life and your growth. But truthfully, I keep it for us; so that someday you will know exactly what you were like growing up and so that I can remember these precious and fleeting moments.

I was holding Graydon a few days ago and trying to fix the moment in my mind. I remember doing that with you also. I would think to myself "I want to remember this moment, exactly, just like this, for the rest of my life". So I reached for one of those moments, a moment located somewhere around the time of "Adelaide, age six months"...and I couldn't do it. I couldn't remember how your chubby little feet kneaded my stomach or how your eyelashes swept down over your flushed cheeks like perfect little fans. The now of you had driven out the then of you.

 It filled me with panic for just a moment, until I remembered this blog. And I felt 10,000 times better because we can look back at what I was thinking and feeling at the time, and in doing so, I do remember what it was like to be with a younger version of you. And I do remember the things that I listed above.

One of your favorite things in life is to be chased...witness the video of you and Rocky here. 

If I am ever having trouble getting you to stop playing long enough to go to the bathroom, or if you won't put your shoes on, or let me comb your hair, I just start chasing you. And you immediately start running and giggling. And once I've caught you, you let me proceed with the job at hand.

So now I am chasing you down again, and trying to pin you down long enough to tell you what your life is like at this moment.

Caught ya!

You are a typical two year old, blessedly so. You are difficult and strong willed and rudely healthy. You can (and regularly do) drink the dog water, public swimming pool water, and your own bathwater without catching so much as  a sniffle. But you like to put your own unique twist on every "normal" milestone.

For instance, you can count to ten. But you only do it in multiples. As in "3, 6, 9" and "1,3,5,7,9" and so on. You switch up which numbers you use but very rarely will you actually use ALL of them in correct linear fashion. I cannot figure out if you are like me and completely flatline in the presence of anything mathematical or if you are actually a math prodigy like your Aunt Bonnie.

And you know your ABCs. But again, you refuse to sing the normal tune of most kids. Instead you calmly identify individual letters in words. "Mommy, T and A and R and G" when we go to Target.

And you know all your colors and your shapes and you speak in complete sentences most of the time, though it is still "toddler speak" that only adults close to you can truly decipher. I love the idiosyncracies of your speech, which change all the time. Right now, you say "clip clops" for flip flops and you still can't say your "l's" so it's actually "cwip cwops". I think I will always call them "cwip cwops", personally. 

You pick out your own outfits. They are always very colorful. Sometimes I even let you leave the house in them. But usually not.

Your own choice

Another stunning ensemble. You seem to favor glitter, ruffles, and Disney Princesses.

You love books and demand your favorites over and over again. You like all the Fancy Nancy books (but you don't realize that her name is Nancy...you call her Fancy). You like Animalia and Best Ever Big Sister and a book about the Architectual Wonders of the World. (Your favorite? St. Basil's Cathedral in Moscow, which you say is a SPECIAL CASTLE which looks like candy. And you are so right, by the way.)

Speaking of candy, you ask me about 70 times a day if you can drink some soda, have some fruit snacks, or eat some chocolate. I'd say you have a sweet tooth, much like me. And like a typical toddler, you will eat only about 10 different food, total. And, in your inimitable fashion, some of them are very odd. Such as tuna fish, and havarti with dill (which you call "ah fish" and "white cheese" respectively).

I said you could be difficult and that is true. You are stubborn to the bone. And you enjoy provoking a reaction, even if it is negative. Sometimes you make me crazy with frustration because you "hear" me but you very rarely listen to me.

But I will tell you a secret. I like you this way. I like that your respect has to be earned and that you never do anything without first considering whether or not you want to do it. Because that will serve you well in life, in the long run. I never want you to follow the crowd or an authority figure "just because"...though I would like for you to give ME more respect because I suffered through a hellish labor to deliver your enormous body, thank you very much.

And finally, we pray together every night . You never fail to thank God for swimming pools, birthday cake, and "nice naps". And I quite agree, those are all evidence of a good God in heaven.

Sometimes I want you to stop growing and changing so quickly. You are moving so fast that it is hard for me to capture you on this blog. It's all I can do to keep up with you, but I love the challenge. And I love you, sweet girl!