Ordinary perfect!

Pajama party at her nursery

The goddess of destruction

Micaela is taking full advantage of her newfound mobility. What I have found is that a mobile baby is a very messy baby. At any given point in time, she is throwing toys, emptying the laundry basket, chewing her crayons, and generally wreaking havoc. I know that when she’s twelve and she is still throwing toys, emptying the laundry basket, and generally wreaking havoc that I will be exhausted, but in the meantime? It’s all awfully adorable, isn’t it?

Real men spend time with their babies

Marvel. As a verb.

We marvel all the time.

We marvel at our blessings.  We have a healthy child, a beautiful little girl, we whisper in the dark. The best half of you plus the best half of me. And then we kiss.

We marvel at our love. We have a strong relationship and a happy family. I love you even with morning breath, and I know you love you back.

We marvel at our luck. We laugh together every day, all three of us. She adores you, I sigh. He smiles at me as he launches our daughter into the air. Her giggles are contagious.

We marvel at her the most. At the shape of her ears and the color of her eyes. At the curl of her grin and the chub on her thighs. At her vitality and at her exploration of her world.

Sometimes we wonder and sometimes we doubt. We speculate, we admire, we experience, we consider, we deliberate, we adore, we reflect.

But more than anything, we marvel.

Who´s my biological wonder? Who?

A few days ago you turned 18 months old. A WHOLE YEAR AND A HALF!

I hate to get all cliché on you, but a year and a half? Really? Already? Where has the time gone?

Okay, I know where the time has gone. The time has gone into snuggling you. And kissing you. And admiring your blue eyes.

The time has gone into working late while you sleep. And commenting on how perfect you are. And taking tons of photos.

The time has gone into lulling you to sleep. And reading you fairy tales. And washing your laundry. And taking walks with you and daddy.

Heck, the time has gone into changing approximately 4000 diapers. I know this because I am actually keeping a diaper tally so that I can find out just how many diaper changes a small person like you needs before potty-training. 

Also, when you’re a teenager, I’ll be able to say that not only did I carry you for nine months, I also put in half a life sentence wiping your cute tooshy. :)

It amazes me how much you’ve grown over the past 18 months. You went from being a tiny, squished, beet-colored squalling newborn to an incredible, smart, and very communicative toddler.

Your father and I are both very excited by the huge changes we see in you every day. 

So, at 18 months of age, you have completely broken us. You have molded your father and me into people who would rather smother you with smooches or talk about the color of your poop than the state of the economy. Keep up the good work, kiddo!

At 18 months of age, you are also way too cute for your own good. Sometimes I spend entire days just nibbling your cheeks and munching your toes and snacking on those amazing baby fingers. Then I have to explain to your father that I’m sorry, but if he didn’t make such a damned adorable baby then he wouldn’t have to worry about me devouring her.

We love you to pieces,

Momma and Daddy

A letter from your mama

Dear Micaela,

I have no words. I have sat here for a long time trying to think about how to start this letter. I write. And erase. Write. And erase. I have a feeling that this won't be the last time that you do this to me. Make me a complete mess. Make me lose my words, my train of thought, my grasp on the now. Make my hands tremble and my lips quiver. Tears of emotions I never knew existed. So I ask again, where do I begin?

Lets start with your birth.

It was beautiful Micaela. Absolutely beautiful. Everyone had been anxiously waiting for your arrival. And I couldn't have pictured a better story and to be surrounded by the ones that love you the most. You came so quickly (2 weeks earlier than planned), you were ready to meet us, and you were determined to make a statement. We should have known then that this would only be a mere glimpse of your personality to come.

We fell in love with you instantly. I understand now. I get it. You truly don't know a love like a mother has for her child until you experience it. It's a feeling I wish I could bottle up and show you. I wish I could put it into words or describe it in detail. But I can't. There just aren't enough words. Not enough time. And even if there were, I'm not quite certain that you would understand. Not sure if anyone could understand. Unless you too experience it.

But trust me baby, you are so, so loved. Not just by me. But by so many people around you. They have watched you grow. Watched you achieve so many milestones. Watched your personality unfold.

From the minute we brought you home, we were excited about every sound that you made. Every little move. Every little wet or poopy diaper. We squealed with excitement. Oh the little things. You made us proud. Your umbilical cord falling off? Proud. You rolling over at 2 months old? Proud. You sleeping through the night at 2.5 months old? Proud. But I hope this goes without saying... we would be proud of anything that you did. Milestone or not.

Your hair turned from blonde to even blonder. Your baby blue eyes continued to brighten as the weeks went by. You stayed awake more during the day, and slept more at night. You began to smile and babble. Your rolls became to form. And you began to grow...

It's hard to imagine how much has changed in a year and a half. How different yet even more amazing you truly are. You're no longer that fresh newborn that poops, eats, and sleeps. You laugh. You smile. You give hugs. And kisses. You walk to us when you want us. And speed away when you don't. You hoot and holler. And you make it known when something is needed. You no longer depend on me for your source of food. And you drink out of a sippy like a big girl. You dance. And bob your head. You clap and "sing" to the music. And you do so many other things that make me step back, look at you, and say "is this the same little baby I brought home a year and a half ago?!"

But what I love the most is that...

You know us. You love us. You want us. And you show us a love that no one in this world could ever compare to. You are our daughter and we are your parents. It's such an amazing concept, that I just sit here and have to repeat it over and over again. You are my daughter. And I am your mother. Your mother.

Do you know what that means Micaela?

I sit here and think about the future. What will it look like? What will next year look like? Five years from now? Ten? To me every day sounds so amazing. Better than the last. Watching you grow. Watching you learn. Watching you as you discover this world. And teaching you. Leading you. Setting the way.

I pray. I pray every day that I get to experience all those things with you. Even the moments when you are a teenager and you swear that you hate me and don't want anything to do with me. But if it means that I get to be there. That we get to experience this together, then I'm there. Count me in. Sign me up. Because my sweet daughter of mine... You are my world. My everything. And I know that you need me. But do you know how much I need you?

You are my reason for living. As cliche as it sounds. "Ya okay mom..." You are baby. You don't even know what you do to me. I could hold you forever... in my arms... and never let go. I'd be okay with that. Happy actually. But unfortunately, I have to let you free into this crazy world that we live in. I have to let you discover life and grow into the amazing woman that you one day will become. 

So I'm not sure when I will give you this letter. I know that I will give you one with every milestone you achieve. Every first that comes into your life. But I think I'll save this one for much later. When you are much older. When you need it the most.

No matter what happens Micaela. Not matter where our lives take us. I pray for your future. I pray you are a strong woman. Smart. Ambitious. A fighter. Never give up on anything. Follow your dreams, and go for what you believe in. Never let anyone tell you that you can't do something. You can do anything you set your mind to. I pray that you laugh at lot. Love a lot. Enjoy each day. And have no regrets. I pray that you work hard. But enjoy life to the fullest. I pray for your future husband. Your future children. Your health. Your happiness....

But most of all...

I pray that you will never forget how much I love you. No matter where you are in your life. What you are going through. All the highs and lows....Your mama is here for you. Whether physically or not... my heart will forever be with yours. I will follow you wherever life takes you. And if there ever comes a day that I can't be here to tell you myself how much I love you... I hope you turn to this letter and read my words to remind you....

I Love You Micaela. I love you, I love you, I love you. Close your eyes and listen....I love you.

You are amazing. Beautiful. Strong. And Perfect. I am your mother, you are my daughter.

And I love you.

No other words. No way to describe it. I write and erase. Write and erase. Only to tell you in the end, that I love you. I'll compose myself and wipe my tears away. Because tomorrow? Well tomorrow is a new day in your life as a one and a half year old. And we have a lot of things to take care of baby girl...A lifetime of firsts to accomplish.

But first... let me remind you once again...

I love you. My heart. My soul. My everything. My daughter.

May you never forget... Mama will love you forever, with all my heart. 

Love,
Mama.

Micaela and her friends

My dear Micaela

Dear Micaela,

I tossed and turned in my sleep for hours last night...  Thinking about you. 

I read something. Something sad. About a mom that passed away so young, leaving behind her 4 young children. And it made me cry. I'm not sure why this story, tonight, now, has affected me so much. But it has. And it has made me think about how precious and wonderful this life has been with you in it.

How blessed and thankful I am to be your mother. To live this life. To take care of you. To laugh with you. Make memories with you. Capture those memories. Enjoy those moments. To see you grow. To see you learn. See you wake up every morning with the absolute most beautiful smile on your face. And how with every day that I spend with you, I pray to God "for just one more." 

I hope there never comes a day that you have to look back on these letters to read how much I love you. I hope it isn't until you are 80 years old. Because I hope to be around that long to tell you every day just how much I truly do, love you.

I never knew a love like this could exist. I dreamt about a love like this. But I just never really knew how strong it was until you were placed into my arms. Here you were this precious innocent child, and I was now your mother. And forever your mother I will be.
I take for granted the days we have together. 

I want to LIVE more with you. I want to enjoy life to the FULLEST with you. I want to give you everything my baby. Every part of life, every part of me, every part of us (your daddy and me), every part of what you deserve.

I want to make you a promise tonight. That I will be the best that I can be. I may not know it all. I may struggle from time to time. I may not be the storybook perfect mom....

But Micaela, I promise you this, I love you more than you will ever know... and I will live each and every day showing you just how much.

Love,
Mama.

Still amazed

Every day, my daughter amazes me.

When she was still inside my belly, her heart beating alongside my own, I was amazed by her movements. A squirm here, a kick there, the thundering whoosh whoosh whoosh on the Doppler.

When she was first born, freshly wrinkled and rosy red, I was amazed by her existence. I stared in wonder at her tiny fingers, wondered at how a human could be so impossibly miniature. I listened to her breathe, in and out, in and out, her bare chest against my bare chest, milk on her lips. I looked into her eyes, fell in love with her lashes, was astounded that someone who was once but a dream could do such a thing as blink.

As she’s grown, every stage of her life has brought me awe, but not in the ways I expected. The moments that I thought would blow me away were the milestones. Her first gummy grin and her first stubborn tooth. Her first wobbly steps and her first stuttered words.

But when I am older and my memories jumble together and run away from me, I don’t think those are the moments I’ll cling to.

I’ll remember her insistence on matching together her fancy summer dress and her shoes for a worm-finding expedition in the garden.

I’ll remember her first taste of chocolate, the way she rolled the flavor around her mouth. “Maaaaaaaaa (More)!” she exclaimed. “Ñam, ñam!”

 I’ll remember the look of her face covered with dirt, with sweat, as I lie beside her singing lullabies before a nap. I’ll remember the way she chimes in words and verses during each lullaby. I’ll remember climbing into bed in the evening as Pablo and I tell stories to one another about what she said or did that day.

I’ll remember the way she smells, dusty and happy, at the end of a day. The smell of adventure.

And of course, I’ll remember looking into her eyes. Falling in love with her lashes. Being astounded that someone who was once but a dream can do such a thing as blink.

She makes me...

...Live life like there's no tomorrow.

...Laugh like I was a kid again.

...Smile when I'm feeling down.

...See the good in people.

...Discover the moments worth cherishing forever.

...Want to be more.

...See more.

...Do more.

...Love more.

...Be more.

...Whole.

And there is no other place on earth I would rather be....

...Than right by her side.

All you need is love

One of the hardest parts of parenting a toddler is, for me, that my daughter spends so much time in her own little world. I wonder how much of her surroundings really sift through the whimsy and the fantasy and the whirling of her dreams. I wonder what she’s thinking of, dreaming of, wishing for? I catch her up close, squeeze her tight, smell her head. I have her scent memorized. I kiss her and I tell her that I love her. I wonder how much she understands?

She climbs across my lap in the afternoon and asks for kisses. When I deliver, she says "MAMO" (TE AMO)! I wonder if she knows what that means. I wonder if she knows how much we love her, if she knows that she is our everything?

Then I think of the little ways we tell her we love her. Not the kisses and the hugs and the exclamation points. The small ways. The subtle ways. Giving her a pack of her favorite cookies just because. The stories told twenty times in a row to make her laugh. The games of hide-and-seek that last an hour without her moving an inch.

Something tells me it’s getting through.

Reason number 4,850,320 that children should come with instruction manuals

My daughter is beginning to throw temper tantrums. And, wow, between signing NO every time she sees the car-seat and wailing at the top of her lungs whenever life is minutely frustrating, the entire dynamic of parenting seems to have changed. A few week ago, we took her to a baby shop to pick up a check they had for us, and Micaela threw the toddler death star of tantrums since she wanted to grab all, and I repeat: all, the fury toys they had.

No, really. She did. She threw a tantrum so fantastically epic that we were almost asked to leave. I’m sorry, let me repeat that for you. WE WERE ALMOST ASKED TO LEAVE.  Because of her tantrum. When my daughter has babies of her own who go all limp-noodle on her in the middle of a shop FOR NO REASON WHATSOEVER except that maybe Jupiter was in the wrong house or an ant dared to trek across the ground in front of them, she better call me up. I would love nothing more than to go out and grab some frozen yogurt and bond over tales of how appalling and humiliating and generally amusing flash tantrums can be.

But in the meantime, while I busy myself collecting good you-owe-me material for when I am old and need my daughter to change my depends, patience is my go-to tantrum-fighting weapon.

Well, it would be patience and chocolate. But I´m trying to diet. I WONDER HOW THAT HAPPENED.

Tantrums are, thus far, the most challenging aspect of parenthood for me. I want nothing more than to give in and make my child happy. But I also want Micaela to know that although I love her dearly and will happily give of myself, my food, my time, my arms, I will not satisfy her every whim. So while she wails, I wait. And while I wait, I wonder. Does she understand the alternatives I’m presenting her with? Have I done something to reinforce this behavior? Am I squashing her freedom of expression? Is there an explanation like exhaustion or hunger that I am overlooking?

As soon as my daughter finishes a tantrum, I always tell her the same thing: I love her.  She never seems to care, of course. When the tantrum is over, she stands up with a smile and life goes on. But I tell her anyway. I tell her that I wish I knew how to better help her navigate through this phase of her life. I tell her that I love her silly and sad, happy and mad, frustrated and in tears, far away and very near.

And you know, even though the tantrums are presenting me with the first seeds of maternal self-doubt, even though I’m spending most of my time these days telling people that I’ll call them back later or trying to calm down a child who is screaming for no other reason than that is apparently what toddler lungs were made for, I think that pretty much sums things up for this age.

Hurdling headlong into toddlerhood

I feel like recently Micaela has gone through another big cognitive leap as she hurdles headlong into toddlerhood. Her communications with us have become more reciprocal. More meaningful. Her games and imagination more complex. And her movements more refined and agile. 

But as exciting and amazing as it is to watch her develop and change. This new phase is keeping us on our toes, testing our patience and has left us searching for strategies. 

For the past week or so, our little princess has become increasingly difficult to put down to sleep. She has reached the stage where she is afraid that she will miss something while she sleeps at night. Even though she is physically tired, she keeps trying to continue playing.

She’s not always difficult, and more often than not, her “difficultness” is running around before bed with an infectious giggle and a chase-me-grin plastered across her face. I am having to constantly tell Pablo not to encourage her as he lunges across the bed after her, but then all three of us often end up running after each other around the bedroom. :)

My little bookworm

One of Micaela's new things that she absolutely loves to do is carry her little books around everywhere and "read them." She has always loved books. Loved when we read to her. Loved touching them, feeling them, all the colors, shapes, and "sounds" that they make. Or we make. From day one. Loved.

Maybe it's because we have read to her since she was a little baby. Maybe it's because we have made it a daily routine with her. Maybe it's because she has lots of books.

Maybe.

But I really think that she is just infatuated with learning. Children in general, I think are just so interested in everything around them. What is this? Why does this do that? Why does that sound like this? And how interesting does this feel. And when I touch that. And the colors. The colors!

I mean really, that has got to be what goes through their head.

When I look at these pictures... I think about how mesmerized she is by her books.

And I get that she may not be able to read. May not be able to know what it's about. If there is a story behind it. Or if there is a happy ending.

But she can see. Those eyes are reading that book. And she is so intrigued by it all.

Just like I am. I was.

I used to read books everyday. A whole book a day. I would stay up all night in order to finish the book. I was addicted. And thinking about it now makes me realize how much I miss it. Getting lost in the book. Putting yourself in the story. Feeling the emotions of the characters.

A book can be so powerful. So moving. So life-changing. You may not realize it at the time, or ever, but a book can have a profound effect on your life.

And I truly believe it has a huge effect on my daughter's life.

My little book lover.
My little bookworm.