The Making of M.O.M.

Today is my birthday. Well, technically I'm writing this on Saturday but you know what, I've never really given a crap about technicalities.

In fact, I'm going to say that technically, I'm still in my late twenties. Except for a pesky few years.

Technically.

Anyway, it's been a week full of busyness around here (thus the lack of posting all week) but it's been a good busy. If you like lots of diapers and kids and a general lack of organization.

So, today (er...yesterday technically) is/was my birthday.

Woop.

Unfortunately, I think I got a mild case of food poisoning from my birthday dinner out on Thursday night. Either that or Memaw forgot to take her geritol and the spinach/pine nut/caper/peppered pizza (gravy it was GOOD) made me gassy and my stomach queasy all day long.

See? I am a Memaw. There I go talking about my bowel habits. Mercy. If I excuse myself to the kitchen to "clean up" so that I can secretly pass gas then I'll change my name to Gertrude and call it a day.

Mercy.

Anyway, earlier today after I finally, FINALLY, got Ella to sleep and convinced her that she's only 6.5 months old and despite her own "I'm going to stay awake all day like I'm 6 years instead of 6 months" thinking she still needs to take a nap, preferably two a day, I laid down myself just in time for Lucas and Ashlee to get up.

Gotta love that timing. Normally those 2 don't take naps but seeing as how they both woke up earlier that normal and they were both beginning to have meltdowns over who's Chick-fil-a cow was whose (even though we have 6 that are IDENTICAL) I figured naps were in order today.

And I wasn't feeling well. Did I mention the stomach churning and the gas? (Hello, may name is Gertrude.)

I'm getting somewhere, I promise.

So seeing as how I felt like not moving so the rolling in my stomach would somehow subside, I did what any good Mother would do and I put the oldest 3 in front of the TV with a bin (yes a BIN) of Goldfish and went to sleep.

Except.

OHMYWORDSTOPWIGGLING.

WORM IN HOT ASHES.

How can you make the whole bed shake and you are sitting on the floor? So finally, I sit up (mind you my hair has mostly worked it's way out of a ponytail, I'm flushed and GASSY) and I say,

"Please guys. Just sit and watch TV and eat your snack! Mommy doesn't feel well."

To which Elizabeth responds with,

"Are you pregnant?"

Oh mercy. That kid.

(And no. I'm not.)

It happened.

Somewhere between summer ending and school starting and life whirling around me, my sweet little girl grew into a 2 year old. Because of her bigger brother's 4 month head start, I often forget that they aren't really twins and that she is 4 short months younger than he. And at the tender age from 20 months - 24 months those 4 months are probably more obvious than they've ever been.

She's still in that odd baby-to-toddler age where she's still too little to do toddler stuff, yet to big to do baby stuff. She can't communicate totally what she wants and life is often frustrating. Especially when Mommy doesn't understand that you really just want another cup of milk.

Still too little to really dress yourself, yet desiring to put on your clothes all by yourself. Or stand on your head. Whichever feels best at the moment.

Yet this past weekend it happened. The Queen reigned for a day and received songs and parties and the sole attention. I know that I've said that 2 isn't exactly my favorite age. Still, I would do anything to pause her sweet little self at this age for just a few more months so that in my old age I could remember so much more of all the things she's growing out of. Two years ago today my sweet girl laid in the hospital alone, without me even knowing she existed. How it breaks my hear to think about her sweet, tiny little self being there with out me. How I pray she allows God to use her story for His glory alone.

My sweetest Olivia,

Two years ago everyone (including us) thought we were crazy for bringing you into our family. Little did they, or we, know just how much of a blessing you would continue to be in our lives. You proved to be our most particular baby. Not necessarily fussy, you just certainly had your preferences! At two, you remain the same. You love being the center of our family's attention and you get especially pleased with yourself when you make all of us burst into laughter, which happens frequently.

We've kept your hair short because of it not growing in evenly, but now it's beginning to get thicker and fuller and I just can't wait to try some fun hair styles out with your curly, black locks. The eczema that once showed up in several painful patches on your arms and legs is completely gone. Your smooth, creamy, brown skin is the softest thing I've ever felt and I love putting on your lotion. And you are loving being old enough now to "help" me.

Your pint sized frame houses more volume that I understand to be possible. How someone so tiny can make such noise is beyond me. You love, love, love to sing and dance. In fact, most of the time that you are awake you are singing or talking or dancing or all three at the same time. You've been known to stop dead in your tracks and bust out some serious dancing when you hear a rhythm that moves you.

You make my heart fill with joy over and over again. You offer me so many hugs and squeezes throughout the day. It is not uncommon for you to seek me out, where ever in the house that I happen to be and give my knees a good, hard squeeze. I love it so much that each time my heart feels as if it will burst.

You love babies. Especially your little sister. You've watched and felt your older sisters doting over you and now you like to lavish that same love upon Ella, whether she likes it or not. One of my favorite memories of you is when you were just a little over a year old and we went to visit family and friends. As your "Aunt Amanda" held up her littlest one (with whom you share a birthday), who at the time was still very brand new, you leaned in and kissed and squeezed on her, showering her with the love that only a 14 month old could show. Your heart must hold joy and love in such quantities that I'll never understand. You are my miracle, sweet girl.

Happiness exudes from you constantly. You are the life of the party. Yet you are growing increasingly shy and cautious in new environments. If I had to describe you in one word, it would certainly be silly.

My sweet, silly girl. I love everything about you. Squishy face and all.

Happy Birthday my precious princess! Mommy loves you!