Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Happy (belated) Birthday, Lillie...


I was reading about craters the other day, formed by the hypervelocity impact of a smaller body with the surface of a larger one. Get it? You're the small one, making an impact? I could keep going for paragraphs using stupid analogies to describe you and the fireball that you are.

But I won't.

Because you're more special than that. We've been through a lot together and our relationship is deeper than a lot of others because of our journey. There have been nights where I sit against the kitchen cupboards and cry. Really tough nights. Other times where we get in rhythm and you respond well and the world turns at the right speed, and I look at you with joy and confidence and intense appreciation.

Baby doll. There is no one else like you. Your laughter that jumps like a bean on a trampoline. Your unruly curly hair and light freckles across your mini nose. Your anger, your joy. Every emotion is so intense. Your brain receiving information and spitting it back out at a speed I have never experienced before.

You started kindergarten this year and didn't even look back. This is what you were made for, to get in the middle of a peer group and shine. You love so easily and have several "wuzzerboys" (loverboys) at school that you have a crush on. You are drop dead gorgeous and me and dad constantly stare at you in disbelief.

The other night you told me that you just love to kiss me, that's all. You also told me with a gasp that I looked SO PRETTY in the dress I was wearing. You told me that you feel bad that I work so hard. You're my greatest ally, you little five year old thing, and I feel undeserving.

You constantly blow my brain to white, then manually infuse the color back into the scene "your way".

Your singing is SO good. You can reach a high note and land on it perfectly and dance there, and me and the older girls gawk at your ability. In gymnastics, you are the most determined girl on the floor. No one else is more serious and more focused. Your coach did an exercise where you had to keep your body laying straight while she lifted your feet off the floor. You were the only one that could do this and I was not surprised!

You are the only one in the family that cleans up their room without me asking. Determination is just another strength you keep in your back pocket like it's no big deal. I see you be hard on yourself and I hate that. You are your own worst enemy and I don't want you to be victim to your own set of expectations.

I am so incredibly proud of you. My chest just puffs out and I get teary thinking that I gave birth to such a strong little girl and how every day, you teach me how to be better.

Because if such a strong human being came from me, then I can be stronger too. Thank you for opening my eyes so wide, little one.

Happy Birthday.


Saturday, October 05, 2013


Matilda's dark lashes, lightly touching her cheek, in rhythm, as she fits each puzzle piece. It is almost too much. It's sad, how the fan blows her hair and how I can't remember the others. The details of their 3rd year. And how I may not remember the details of hers. My throat's tight and I "help her with her puzzoh", but really I just stare at her like a dumb lady. Unable to take in her essence in completeness. The way she runs on the beach, her heart-shaped lips forming these little words that aren't quite right. A bit of a stutter.



My little one.

Your feet splayed at an angle underneath you as you folded down toward the big bucket of water on the shore. You collected baby clams and ran and rolled around in the sand. You crinkled up your nose and ate some cheese-its on a chair. Today was you in liquid form. No schedule, you getting basically anything you want. Even the soccer ball that the other girls and I were trying to kick around in shallow water. Your birth marks, your smells, your insatiable appetite for anything and everything. Your bangs that constantly hang onto your sweet, soft face and tease your mini nostrils.

And time goes on like a torrent, hurting my head and body and leaving me empty-ish. And a bit sad. Because how can I enjoy the present in spite of the future, and the change it always brings?

My little Matilda, I want to remember you today, tonight. As a little one, age 3, who dresses herself and has a gentle manner. But one who fights for what she wants. And also, please know that everyone that meets you is enamored. Sigh and a half.


Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Happy Birthday Matilda.

 Took our baby doll out on a date to sushi and play time at the beach. 


It's like I opened a can of soda and you shot right out. Bubbling and jumping and playing and singing and whining and talking and running. The sound of you echoes around the walls of my child-full home. A human can only be stared at for so long and I'm sure you'll start to get tired of it. For now, you don't know any better and the effort and happiness on your beautiful face is so contagious I am caught unaware and constantly find myself unable to physically let go of you.

You're squishy and think you are fast, but you still run like a toddler.

Sometimes you talk way too much and when my overworked cells try to synapse what you are saying over and over and over, I tell you to quiet down. And for a second I remember wondering what you'd be like. What gender you'd be, what hair you would have, how much your infant body would weigh and I just want you to talk on and I try very hard to listen better.

Force me to forget, my Matilda, how long the day seems and how tired I become as the minutes tick by.

Always take me to that place where you can wrap me up like you do your baby dolls... all day... and handle me as gently as you do them.

See in my eyes, in Daddy's eyes, how incredibly and vastly loved and adored you are.

Remember Ruby's hands gently cupping your shoulders each time you are hurt. I hope you can understand that all of these girls live for you. Hinge on being the one to make you laugh, cuddle with you, or get you what you need. Feel that esteem and bask in it.

Know that I often find Dad squished between you and the wall in your bed, reading you board books while you conk him repeatedly on the head with your elbow. He would do that forever. You consider him your personal servant.

Dearest, dearest little girl, you were absolutely our choice to bring up the last precious bit of our family. The little endcap, a most important feature in an already blooming garden of daughters. You are my snuggly reward, the berries on the cheesecake.

You're starting to get a few freckles and I wonder as I "hold you to beep" some nights, gazing down at your face, who you will be. Who you will love. I wonder about that year or two when the other girls may be out on their own and we get you to ourselves.

My little twin, I love you I love you I love you. Be my baby forever.