Happy Birthday Matilda.

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

 Matilda,

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.

xo
Mama

Happy Birthday Matilda.

Dear, dearest, dearie little Tadi.

You are two now. I took you up to the mountains alone. Just you and I. You rolled down your window and watched the trees whizz by. I watched you in my rear view mirror, pursed my lips, my eyes tightened. What is it about time and memories and love that make you so incredibly happy and so desperately sad at the same time?

We parked. I pulled you from your car seat, your underarms first, with your little feet following slightly behind. I asked you questions as you rode my hip out to the lake. To everything you said, "Nyaaaa". And one time you rubbed my arms, craned your neck to see my face and said, "Mahhhhhhmmmmy", with a soothing tone and proud smile. You do love me, that I know.

You've got these legs and ankles to die for. Flat feet, just like me, with knobby knees that always turn and look toward each other. And a crease on the back of your thigh! The last of my babies to have one still! I admire it every day.

You're kind. And then other times, not so kind. For instance, you like to hit your sisters and then pull back to watch what happens next. Always a fun activity. Watching them writhe in pain on the couch, you just a few feet away looking guilty. You're always, always teasing. Lillie's your favorite because she acts like everything you do and say is a direct assault on her character, which, it probably is.

Your two older sisters dote on you. Ask to see every photo I take of you, ask to be the one to give you treats. They just can't get enough of you. You're pliable and loving, and they want a piece of you. They bribe you to sit on their laps and they go steal kisses from you after you fall asleep promptly at 7:30.

The night you turned two, I put the three girls to bed and let you stay up, bathed in the twilight of May 14th. Time was humbled as you played with your new baby, bottles and baby wagon in the silence of the evening. The temperature outside matched your body and a little breeze played at our hair as I laid just inside the door watching you. I finally set my camera down and sank into my elbows, my fingers running circles over my mouth as I tried to get a handle on my emotions.

The truth is, you're my gift, my reward. The culmination of my hard work in the trenches of motherhood. You are always at the other end of my outstretched hands, the ones that longed for you and were satisfied only after I finally held you in my arms two short years ago. You're there on my hip, when I try to be a mother to a 9 year old. You keep me grounded, frantic and young.

Your eyes and nose and mouth are a carbon copy of me, your silliness a reflection of all of us, your fight is all yours, and my baby, you will always be.