In case you’re confused…no, it’s not the 30th October..it’s just me doing a bit of ground hog day and playing blog catch-up over here. So bear with me, as we hyperspace back to my littlest Parker’s birthday, and I actually get to share my thoughts and mom feels with you…as well as my message to my girl marking this very special occassion…
Every year, when the girls’ birthdays come around, I find myself stuck in their baby folders…Mike always warns me – as he knows I get mesmerised by it and then completely lost in it and the whole world goes to pot- I never listen to him. But he’s always right, I just keep going through them – plastered to that screen. Only blinking to due to flooded eyes, or stupid ear-to-ear grins. What can I say? I can’t help myself. Photos are my jam.
From the photos we eventually, especially in Parker’s case, we all gather round to watch her birth video. It always captures the kiddies’ attention, so much so that they have it on repeat. And no matter how many times I watch that video, with both girls nestled on my lap, I still spill tears of joy… *Now, before you go ahead and think I’m a sentimental bloggy asshole who writes as if everything is perfect and just so dreamy-weemy, let it be known this daydreamy-like state also always abruptly slides into Morgy ugly crying because she doesn’t have a birth video of her own. Then we, as usual, end up frantically having to dig out those 3 or 4 quick birth snaps we do have of her on the day. We, of course, pile on the love and koosh, and are for a few moments emotionally drained by the sudden, although reliably annual Morgan-Lee birth-vid-mini-breakdown.*
But birth video hissy fits aside, and point being, worm holing down into a memory lane that feels only like yesterday, is usually how it goes down for the weeks leading up to Parky’s birthday. But this year? Not so much. There was no nostalgic look-back at an incredible life still unfolding. Possibly because there was not much time allotted to us this year given our crazy circumstances. (Or possibly a sub-conscious desire to side-step that whole birth-pix debacle. (kidding, nothing can make us stop loving that vid) But this year, I instead found myself staring at her – taking in more mental photographs than usual. Watching her. MORE than usual. Taking in all the new nuances that she brings into our lives. The dynamic she brings into our home. And absolutely the humour she has in spades!
This of course meant that I was either cry-smiling all the way (geez, hormones, whats up?) or crashing in laughter. Or in some cases absolutely bewildered by where she learnt this new trick, which is quickly followed by laughter that your daddy and I try really hard to mask it. What trick you may ask? Well, umm, its that very elegant one where she positions her tiny little bums against you, and quickly before you can even react, let’s one rip! She then makes a quick exist, but no before declaring, “I fot on you!”, laughing maniacally…*insert MY ashamed but amused face*…Ah, the honour she will bring to this family.
I have no idea where you get this from dear Parker-Grace, and sincerely hope you heed our advice in that this is not socially acceptable. Even though your father and I deliver those words of wisdom through shaking laughter and disbelief, please know that we mean it.
And yes, the word is”fot”, not “fart”…
Now, don’t get me wrong, whilst we know that as parents we are supposed to guide our children, set them on the right path, and teach them well…Can we please get a pass for adorably cute mispronounciatins?! Pleassssse? Cause, “Beetbix” is still doing the rounds, and I will milk that sucker for as long as I possibly can. But right now, “Hoddible” (horrible), “soddy” (sorry) and “twick-or-tweet” is trending, and I really don’t want it to end. And as far as we can, we try to get you to tell us what your current fave story is as many times through out the day: “Little Led Liding hood”. You still havent caught on, and sweetly tell us everytime. Ahh, the silly pleasures of parenthood!
By the way, yes, I may not have followed what has become a tradition to click through the history books of my kiddums leading up to her brithday, but you can bet your last oreo that I eventually did hit up:
Oh, and honey, let it be said that the moves of Jagger ain’t got nothing on you…and Im wishing to God that I just at least ONCE get those moves captured on film already. Captured while your leggies are still so short, your little bummy still tiny and dippled…and those foot manoevers of yours that make me think you’ve been You Tubing James Brown when Im not looking. (Because, yes, calling my boss, posting random stuff from my camera roll and changing my settings are all things you seem to accomplish in a very short time). But, gosh, I mean I knew I danced a lot with you in my belly – like a lot-a lot. Like more than usual, and close friends of mine will tell you just how much dance has always been a part of life. I just never realised it would have this effect on you. And I’m so glad for it. So not sorry for shaking that preggy belly of mine. For you, Morgy and I (and sometimes Daddy too) have some epic random dance parties break out in our lounge or entrance. I hope you never lose this love of dancing – I found that dance has carried me through many a downward slope. May it serve you well too, my girl.
But,let it also be known that your awesome moves are not merely restricted to the dance floor – oh no. Just ask your dad, and he’ll be the first one to rave about your seriously killer Jujitsu moves. You are a natural, babe. And quite amazing to watch. (Just try to take it easy on your sister, K? She’s more of the makes love not war kind.) Can’t wait to see you join your daddy in the studio and roll on that mat in the coming years…you are going to OWN that mat!
Watching you dance, roll, or play is truly something else – for it leaves me both wide-eyed at just how nifty you are, as well heartstoppingly breathless as my poor mom-nerves can’t stand how you push those physical boundaries. But you? You are fearless! You’re rough, and dive right in. This would explain the chipped tooth and blue eye when you only just turned one. (A stunt you pulled from the back of the couch onto the cold hard tiles. Your resultant injuries, however, were not enough to deter you from trying again.)
You are very headstrong (don’t change), very clear and determined about what you want, and are not open to negotiations. Whilst, one day, you could rule the world with all that, right now it’s making my eyes roll back so far into my head, it hurts. Therefore, cake and general sugary fare has remained my bargaining tool with you ever since I have come to terms with you not being open to my stupid adult logic. So, whilst Im not proud of succumbing to bribery (let’s just call a spade a spade and not a shovel), I am determined to not dissolve that strong mind and will of yours. It will serve you well in this world darling. Just learn how to use it wisely, and maybe warm up a little more to that logic thing – it certainly won’t hurt! 😉
Not that you’re a stranger to sensitivity or anything. In fact, you’re as sensitive as they get. (Aren’t you just full of paradoxes? Sensitive bad ass, anyone?) Your affinity for all animals, particularly babies, remains so endearing to me. Even slimey baby ones, like snails. (Every morning she walks with my mom through the garden while my mom removes all the snails. Then she sifts through them all, and saves the “babies” by throwing them back into the garden when my mom’s back is turned.)
And I simply adore how soft you are on doggies, and how hard it is for you to leave a petting zoo. Which usually goes down something like, “but mama they will cwy(cry) if I leave now”…Or like that one time where you physically held onto the pet zoo’s fence while screaming only just enough for the entire crowd within a 3 mile radius to turn around and judge me as I pulled you by your tiny ankles, while your dad pried your chubby fingers off the fence one by one.) Ahh, the character building you provide my sweet pea.
But honestly, this sensitive soul of yours never ceases to surprise me. In fact, I always do my best to keep my emotions in check when you’re around, as I’ve learnt that you seem to feel my pain as deeply as if it were your own. I think I was right when I said you see right into my soul with those big brown eyes of yours. In fact, the one thing that can pull me right out of state, is the pooling of tears in your eyes when you think I’m sad. That heart of yours is so tender, be sure to look after it one day and take care with whom you give it to.
But, for real though, I wasn’t kidding about you being full of paradoxes… Case in point: girly dresses. You are all over them. Like, ALL. OVER.THEM. If I’d let you have your way, you’d choose frilly sparkly dresses everyday(the ones we keep for special occasions only). You’d choose them every single day no matter what’s on the agenda.
You’d pose in front of the mirror, turning to see the dress from all angles, and then go play in the mud with them, and probably rip them as you try to climb yet another tree. Or put your sister in a chokehold. But not before you first take them for a good twirl! And when you finally return – ragged, dirty and full of happiness – I’d probably point out all the rips in your dress, you’d look up to me with your big brown puppy dog eyes to say the cutest “Soddy, mama”. And then I’d melt (every time). Scoop you up, and bury you in kisses.
Ahh, my soulful and wild child with the heart of gold and boisterous laugh…know that you are indeed a blessing and joy to us all, and spun your magic effortlessly. You have literally taken me through the spectrum of emotions and crazy-levels of motherhood. But with my eyes firmly fixed on the gift from above that you are, I remain forever grateful for 3 years and counting with this wild,brave and sensitive soul.
Happy birthday my Parky… You are SO loved. X
Some pix from her actual birthday (traditional family brekkie and then a lovely day thanks to Bugz World Playpark – they went the extra step of making her feel special.):