Julia, Two

My Sweet Peach,

Happy birthday cake!  It seems you relate birthdays entirely to the cake, which is understandable and adorable.  I was trying to explain your birthday the other night, and asked what you wanted to do on your birthday.  You lit up and said, “Eat happy birthday cake!”.  Later you added ice cream.  So for breakfast yesterday morning we had cake, and before dinner we had cake.  And since we forgot about the ice cream, I had a little for you after you went to bed.  You turned two yesterday my little love.  My very own two year old. 

 

 

 

I’ve heard many say their toddler is hilarious, or their little one is their buddy.  I always found that strange.  Really?  What kind of jokes is your two year old telling?  But I get it now.  You kill me.  Part of it is that you’re telling/showing me something today that you didn’t know yesterday.  Part is that you’re so proud of yourself for the new knowledge.  And I can’t get over the nuances you pick up on – you are awfully good at being coy.  And thinking you’re funny.  And laughing ‘socially’ now at anything you think is funny, including (ok, usually) yourself.  Of course sometimes you don’t know you’re the source of my chuckles.  Yesterday we were at Costco (where everything they gave as a sample was a “happy birthday” whatever-it-was… Oh look, they’re giving you happy birthday chocolate milk!  Wow, happy birthday cheese and pretzels for you!  Crab dip?  Happy birthday!Your delight may have led me to cancel all birthday parties til you’re ten in favor of this activity), you saw a short, thin middle-Eastern man with a white beard and excitedly exclaimed, “Santa!”.  I don’t know if he heard, but I couldn’t help but wheel around the corner and laugh.

 

It’s becoming clear that you really are watching everything.  As you opened one of your many gifts from Grandma and Grandpa Stancliff, you burst out with an ”oh my goodness!”   If you sense me in a bad mood, you’ll sort of cautiously say, “Mama?” in a tone that seems to ask what’s wrong and I catch myself.  You are in a phase of pointing things out – what we’re wearing (Mama a geen shirt, Ju-e-a a pink shirt), what we’re doing (Ju-e-a bucka seatbelt, baby bucka seatbelt), what you see me eating (if I pour a glass of milk you know I’m hiding a cookie).  I can no longer eat treats in plain sight because you want them, can’t call the guy that cut me off a jerk because you’ll repeat it, and can’t make noises of exasperation because you inevitably think they’re directed at you.  It’s daunting to know you’re being watched by someone who’s going to think that what you’re doing is right and try to copy. 

 

 

I love to watch you put on my heels and clonk around, or put a bag on your arm and say “bye bye!”.  You mimic me putting on my earrings, applying lip gloss, and I watched you pick up a travel sized deodorant the other day and rub it under your arms.  When you opened your baby doll for Christmas, you immediately put it up to your tummy to eat (“Baby hungry, eat tummy,” you said matter-of-factly).  I’ve only just started asking you what you want to wear some mornings, and you reply every time, “pink shirt.”  There are just some things that are innate in a little girl I’m convinced – I’ve never talked about pink being special or pretty that I can remember.

 

You went from loving eating, to liking it fine, unless sweets are involved and then you’re back to love.  You deny most green vegetables a fair shake.  Favorites include pineapple, eggs, meat (usually ham), bananas, grapes, avocados, noodles, crackers, beans, pears, cheese, and occasionally broccoli or cauliflower.  You do not like corn, peas, green beans, tomatoes, peppers, carrots, anything leafy or even potatoes much of the time.  All of this is contingent on what seat you get (you prefer the barstool to your high chair now), and whose fork it’s on (for example if it’s on Hollie’s fork you’ll most likely give it a try).

miracle

There’s a lot of singing in recent months.  As we deplaned from our flight West for Christmas, you started singing Jingle Bells (Jin-ga-beahs jin-ga-beahs jin-ga awww da waaaaay) over and over.  Lots of smiles from your crowd.  Your other favorite solos are Temple (I Love to See the), Do Ah’m Doing (the “follow me” is more command than a sing-songy request),  ABC’s, Thumpkin (though you skip straight to Pinky), Wheels on the Bus, Elmo’s World, and parts of Book of Mormon Stories.  I generally find out you’re awake when you either start rattling the crib or singing one of the above.  You’re like your dad in that the music is pretty impressive, but the lyrics can be an afterthought. Your language exploded around 21 months – you’re speaking in little sentences now.  It’s adorable to hear some of your intonation fill in the gaps of some prepositions and pronouns.  We can leave the last word on each line open in many nursery rhymes and you fill them in.  Some of my favorite things you say are, “where did the ___ go?” (you hold up your hands in curiosity and start looking around the room for something), “one for Mama, one for Ju-e-a”, “pees Mama I color?”, “mooooooe cheese?”, “baby sad, a hewp her.”

We just returned from visiting Grandmas and Grandpas out West, who all spoiled you in their ways.  It was so fun to see you love them.  Playing fetch with Grandma & Grandpa Stancliff’s doggie, having tea parties with Grandma Mickelsen.  Even when you were sick and miserable they coddled and loved you – Aunts, Uncles and cousins… sometimes I wonder what we’re doing out here.  But then I see you with your little friends and am grateful that you have people who love you in both places.

Grandma Mickelsen sent this wishing you a happy birthday, a tea party in your honor, complete with banana

There are some power struggles – you are, after all, two.  And I am, after all, new to parenting a two year old.  You love the word “No” as much as the books said you would, sharing is difficult much of the time, you don’t like to come down the stairs by yourself, and sometimes play deaf.  There was some time after Lillie was born that I thought I’d lost my happy girl.  But you are back to usually happy, and smart and so endearing that I miss you after you’re gone in spite of bedtime’s sweet relief.

   

You have been the first to teach me the love of a mother.  Your hugs and ”I ubv you Mama’s” beat everything on my Christmas list. In spite of the heartbreak that comes with every ounce of baby fat lost and every wrong word righted, I am so excited to watch you grow.

 

xoxo,

Mom

Julia galloping around her first day as a 2-year-old, and her mother talking really loudly.  This is probably just grandparent material.

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