Now just tell me this isn’t the cutest thing:
Of course, Rhubarb was there, too:
What could be more adorable than four teensy girls (ranging from two today to three next month) waiting oh-so-patiently for those delicious cupcakes?
I had to wrestle her new plastic shovel (a gift from Patchfire and PC) out of her hand in order for this picture to be taken, but here’s the mama and her birthday girl.
My mother-in-law shipped us this box of treasure for Babypie’s second birthday party:
Contents: Pink fairy dresses, rainbow fairy wings, dark pink sparkly star wands for four two-year-old fairies (well, technically, the rest of the wings are coming in a second box, with pink tulle and other fairy goodies).
This little nibblet is turning two in a week and a day:
I’m pretty sure that isn’t possible.
I’ll be back to talking about homeschool soon, I promise, but for now, I have to wax a little nostalgic (and a little sad) that my little 9lb 4oz stawberry baby is now a giant 25lb almost-two-year-old who is already too tall for most of her new 2T t-shirts! *sniffle*
Babypie and Rhubarb are a team of Veterinary Princesses (or Princess Veterinarians), healing Rhubarb’s new stuffed otter and the kitten and puppy at Babypie’s new Critter Clinic. Dresses were discarded upon discovery of difficulty of pottying in taffeta and crinolines. They are Practical Princesses, as well.
Dress-up 2.0 today:
Babies are weird.
I just asked Babypie, “What’s your name, little girl?”
Babypie said, “Duck.”
I said, “But I thought it was [Babypie]?”
She said, “It’s actually Duck.”*
I again said, “But you’re [Babypie]!”
She looked at me like she was thinking, oh poor, simply mother, patted her breastbone in an exaggerated fashion and said, slowly, “ME. DUCK.”
A couple minutes later, I said, “I need a picture of a girl named Duck,” which brought Babypie running in yelling, “Me! Me Duck! Me Duck!”
Here is an incredibly attractive picture of my girl called Duck:
*I ran this through Daddyman. “Did she just say, ‘It’s actually Duck’?” He agreed that she had.
I am thankful for Babypie, my only girlchild, my beautiful 20-month-old spitfire.
I have always wanted a daughter. I think it’s a testament to how close I am with my mother and how many wonderful memories I have of mother-daughter activities. I knew from the moment I got pregnant with Babypie that I was carrying the little girl I had hoped for; I felt it in my very soul. My pregnancy with Babypie was difficult — no complications, but constant exhaustion, nausea, no appetite. Her birth, even though my labor was only about 6 1/2 hours long (making it my second longest or second shortest, depending on how you look at it), was the hardest of my three children’s. Her right hand was up by her ear the whole time, a position we call “Babypie phoning it in” and which she still does when she is sleepy, and I had horrible back labor, my first experience with that particular hell. She finally came out, all 9lbs 4oz of her, and was so red and round and squishy that I dressed her in strawberry prints from that day forward, my little Strawberry Pie. Her nose was absolutely pug; she looked like Piglet from classic Winnie the Pooh, and in the video Daddyman took of us immediately afterbirth, I kept saying to her, completely thrilled, “You’re so funny-looking!”
Her nose is still a little pug, but she doesn’t look like Piglet any more.
I think, after Tank, God or the Universe sensed I needed an easy one. Babypie was the easiest baby. She was born sleeping at least 5-6 hours each night. She nursed like a champ. She was alert and interested in everyone, but not fussy or discontent. She enjoyed being held by all her family members, brothers included. She was smiling within moments of birth, usually in response to familiar voices. I had a hard recovery and it took me a while to feel “right” again, but Babypie was so sweet and snuggly and easy to care for that I didn’t have any additional stress or strain due to caring for her. She ate and grew and got ridiculously fat and developed three enormous dimples in her cheeks, plus a scrumptious cleft in her chin. I dressed her in lots of pink and strawberries, because she was all mine and I could do ridiculous things like that.
She kept on growing and growing. She started learning all manner of things in leaps and bounds. She didn’t talk quite as early as Captain Science, but was still saying a few words by seven months old. She sat a little later than Tank, crawled at roughly the same time, but learned to walk at nine months old, thanks to Patchfire’s daughter, Purple Child, who is (also an early walker) four months older and Babypie’s best friend. Babypie would pull up on PC and “cruise” along with her while she walked. Thanks, PC! I was not at all prepared for a baby of that size to be walking around, but Babypie is her own person and doesn’t really care if one is prepared for her accomplishments or not. She kept on walking, kept on talking, and her vocabulary expanded so quickly that I eventually stopped keeping track of all her words — she simply said too much.
One thing about Babypie: Babypie is fierce. A former friend once made a snide remark about certain people not realizing their children look mean in pictures. It wasn’t hard to figure out who she was talking about — I don’t think we had a picture of Babypie for months where she didn’t look like she was baring her teeth and possibly about to bite someone. It wasn’t hostile, though. Her smile was just as fierce as the rest of her. Her big white teeth and rather broad mouth made her huge smile into something of a savage smile. Nothing stops her. Nothing slows her down. No one is more determined than my Babypie. She’ll take a tumble and keep going. She can do anything the boys can do, whether she can actually do it or not. Her battle cry is, “And ME!”
She’s also a snuggler and loves her Mama (and especially her ninnies). One of her favorite people in this world is her great-great-Aunt Elaine. She loves going to visit Nana and Papa. She adores her brothers and her Daddy. We went through a bad couple of weeks where she refused to go to bed until Officer Daddyman was home from work, meaning midnight or later. She “calls” her Daddy on her play cell phone and has long conversation with him. She gives him commands that he usually follows. Babypie is the boss of everyone. She was born to be the boss of everyone and she doesn’t understand why everyone can’t understand that. “Yesh!” and “No!” are staples in her vocabulary, because they are words of command/direction. Despite her bossy fierceness, she’s also the prissiest little thing, with this funny little prance-walk-strut that she does when she’s feeling full of herself or wearing her pink princess dress with the giant fairy wings. She’ll run around in her fairy dress with a sword in one hand, a car in the other, and her water bottle and her baby doll stuffed down the front of her shirt. That’s just how Babypie rolls.
Nothing about this fierce girl has been a disappointment. She’s a delight and a joy nearly every moment of the day. Sure, she’ll run me ragged and exhausted, but she’s so funny and entertaining while she’s doing it, I hardly notice how tired I am until we both drop. She has the best sense of humor, tells little baby jokes, makes up funny stories (sometimes about Beasts that poop in her pants), wants to be involved with everything we’re doing. No baby could be more fun than Babypie. She is the perfect compliment to her brothers. They’re a perfect unit of three, even when they fuss and fight and squabble. She brought something to the dynamic that can’t be replaced. She’s Captain Science’s ally, Tank’s sometime-nemesis, and they are both her heroes.
She’s the daughter I always longer for and more, my amazing number three, my boisterous yet dainty Strawberry Girl. I am so grateful for the opportunity to be the mother of this child.
All my babies — I love them equally and in their own special ways. None of them is like the other, but they are all treasures to me. I have never done anything as meaningful and rewarding as being their mother. I can’t imagine I ever will do anything better than that.
At this very moment (I know, because I schedule this to post right at that time) my “baby” is turning 18 months old. This is a big deal for me, because she hasn’t been all that baby-like for so long–she walks, talks, gets into all manner of mischief–that I’ve been holding on to “she’s not even 18 months old yet” as my way of comforting myself that my little Babypie is still a baby.
I must face the facts, however, and finally admit that Babypie is now a toddler. A full blown, personality larger-than-life, Princess Pitch-a-Fit toddler.
She was a fat, juicy 9lb 4oz baby:
A beautiful force of nature at a year:
Now she’s a 23 pound, lean, mean fighting machine:
So big that I’m pretty sure it shouldn’t be allowed:
And a right good dancer.
