Spring has sprung here in the Pacific Northwest! Well, as much as it does around here. Daylight savings was last week, so it is certainly far lighter out than it has been. We also had an abnormally cold couple weeks leading up to it. So when the clocks changed at the same time as the weather went back up to our normal 50s, it seemed like a big, welcome leap toward summer.
Gracie Girl, with the warmer temperatures and breaks of actual SUN between downpours, you have made a serious uptick in the negotiating that goes along with our typical, "We're going outside to play!" "Yay! Can I wear a dress?" "No, it's freezing and muddy outside." "PANTS ARE NOT PRETTY! WHY CAN'T I WEAR A DRESS OUTSIDE I WON'T LOOK PRETTY!!!!!!" arugument we are required to go through every. single. time. And honestly, I don't know if it's the weather or your incredible, unstoppable determination, but I've started to ease up on it a bit. So now, almost every day, you wear a long-sleeved shirt, pants, a coat, and a skirt to dig around in the dirt, bathe in mud puddles, ride your bike, and hurl balls around the wet grass. It is such an annoyingly adorable and obnoxiously obvious visual representation of you as a person that I've grown to secretly look forward to it.
Your constant emotional outbursts infuriate me in the heat of the moment, then break my heart just seconds after they're through. I try so hard to remind myself how insanely difficult it all must be for you if it's this hard on me. A lesson that makes me imagine your teen and preteen years a little more vividly than I'd like.
You stun me with your intelligence all the time and say the funniest things on an hourly basis. The way you understand things and at the same time completely don't is the most endearing thing. Like this weekend when you announced for probably the fifth time in the two weeks since Teeth Week at school, "I'm scared of the Tooth Fairy. Do you know why I'm scared of it? Because it takes my tooth. Why does it take my tooth?"
"To give you money," I explained again.
"That doesn't even make sense," you responded, making me crack up at the phrase I most often say to you.
You are waaaay into "projects" right now, which is anything arts and crafts. Every piece of paper is a present for someone to "show your love," which makes it even more impossible to throw anything away.
Lyla, I think I say this every month, but you are hilarious. You yell, seriously yell, every word you say. You say your own name at least every other word. You tilt your head about 90 degrees when you want to look cute or serious. You replace the 's' sound with 'h's and your 'r's with 'd's, so your "sorry" is "hudduh," and you say it all the time - especially when you're in the middle of doing something bad. You grin bigger than I've ever seen anyone grin before. Having a conversation with you is pretty much the craziest, loudest, most dramatic, cutest, funniest thing a person can do. I've recorded dozens of chats with you on my phone recently, and I just have to buck up and choose one to post because they are all magic.
You desperately want to learn your letters, and I feel like the worst mother on Earth every day because I haven't taught you yet. Gracie knew all of hers by now, and not finding the time to teach you eats away at me all the time. I will start today. I promise I will try.
The other day, we were outside after a big rain, and Gracie was splashing in a huge puddle with the play broom, shouting to me across the lawn that she was "making it rain!" You guys don't know what that means now, but I hope the stripper/club scene still uses the same vocabulary when you are old enough because hearing you say that was shockingly funny and I had no one around to laugh with. Anyway, a few minutes later, you found the little play wheelbarrow and purposely dumped out the gallons of rain that had accumulated in it. "WET!" you cried out. "LYLA! WET!" As Gracie was having the time of her life dousing herself with filthy water, you were devastated and couldn't handle being in it for one more second as I laughed and laughed at the difference between the two of you.
Then this morning, we were out on the back deck, and Gracie pulled up a tiny camping chair. "You want to sit in my lap, Lyla?"
"No," you said for the billionth time all day.
"You want to be sisters?" she asked.
"Yeah," you said, and with no other explanation, you picked up your chair at the same time she picked up hers and you both tried to carry it to each other to sit down. Since you both tried to move to each other, you ended up in an adorable do si do type dance with the tiny outdoor chairs and your tiny little souls trying to "be sisters."
Poppy, you are, just this minute, laying on the floor next to me screeching. Not in an upset manner at all; if that were the case, I'd just pick you up. Instead, it's your way of talking, and you do it all the time. At your doctor's appointment a few weeks ago for a cold, the nurse remarked to the doctor, "Have you ever heard a baby this young be so verbal?"
"Well, she has two very loud sisters at home," I interrupted.
You just stared to smile these past couple weeks, but you really only smile at Gracie and me. I'm sure you would for Lyla if she gave you more than 3 seconds of attention at any one time, but she is just too busy to lounge around staring at you all day like Gracie and I do. I know over this next month, your smiles will grow and come out even more frequently, and I just can't wait.
I have a whole separate post in my head for you, all about how much I just absolutely adore you. Of course, I do because you're my child, but there's something special about you my dear, and I plan to write all about it this week.
Today is Saint Patrick's Day, my little ladies, and you're all dressed in green. I am so lucky to have you crazy leprechauns.