I’m just gonna go ahead and say it:
I didn’t really enjoy 1 year old Clara.
I mean, sure, we had good days, great ones even, and there is nothing she could ever do to change how much I love her. Nothing.
But like her?
Those days felt few and far between, especially right around 16 months. Which is coincidentally when I had baby Samuel? So maybe my patience was a little thin (and reeking of hormonal rage) as well, but I’m putting most of the blame on her thin toddler shoulders.
Call me what you will.
I think, for me, the hard part about the year between 1 and 2 was the cognitive leaps paired with the language barriers. She was smarter than ever and turning daily from ‘baby’ to ‘child,’ but the gap between her brain and my ears was astounding at times. We were frustrated with each other, and we also had a new guy on the premises, and then there was potty training and big girl beds and just a general smattering of 3 feet high growing pains. I would never trade a day with her, not for anything, but I have to tell you- I am glad we are done with that year.
Becase TWO years old is where it’s at, guys.
She’s so fun. SO fun. She’s a mature two, if such a thing exists in a world of people who fall off furniture for laughs. For instance, I just saw her eating candy off her gingerbread house and told her to stop; she took the M&M out of her mouth and placed it back on the frosted chimney. She’s a rule follower to the max and not much of a fit-thrower, and loves to use her manners. (These oldest daughters, what a bizarre breed, huh? I’ll never understand it, but it’s a joy to raise.)
She’s sassy as anything and the whining can make me want to slice my ears off but for the most part- she’s a joy. She makes me laugh all the time, on accident and sometimes even (miraculously) on purpose, so I started writing down the things she says. Because like every good parent, all of my children’s memories and stories are collected on scraps of paper all over my house with barely legible notes scribbled on them. Here is my attempt to keep them somewhere safer than the piles on my desk.
(After I handed Sammy his breakfast at his highchair.)
Clara: Sammmmmyyyy…you say “Thank you, Jessie.”
(During a dinner discussion about the veggies on her plate.)
Jessie: You love carrots. You have to eat both of those.
Clara: Yes, but Mama, I’m too LITTLE to eat carrots.
(Wandering into the kitchen while I’m making breakfast. Leans casually against the fridge.)
Clara: What you doing, Mom?
Jessie: I’m making coffee.
Clara: Oh, coffee? Cool.
(Sitting with me in my bedroom while I’m putting on make up. Her brother crawls in and heads towards me. She stands in his way, arms crossed.)
Clara: No, you go play, Sammy. I want to talk to my mommy. Go.
(As I’m standing in the kitchen and drinking my coffee, a few minutes after I dropped a cup of water while handing it to her.)
Clara: Ummm, Mom? Don’t walk with your coffee. Sit down at the table.
(In a busy aisle at Costco.)
Jessie: deep in thought over the list in her head, makes a thinking noise with her lips…which comes out like a fart noise.
Clara: EXCUSE you, Mom!
Other people: Staring.
Jessie: Nervous laugh towards staring people.
Clara: Mom, did you POOP?
Jessie: What? No! I made that noise with my mouth.
Clara: (Shouting now.) You pooped with your MOUTH?