And then she was two

Somehow, it would seem, I have been a mother for two whole years. Our baby girl and the light in our lives, Miss I, turned two on Saturday. Where has that time gone?? A few weeks ago Mr G and I were looking through some photos from when she was first born and I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Part of me wanted to laugh out loud; because the birth is now two years behind me; because we've survived; because our tiny bundle is now a walking and talking girl who makes us laugh. But I also felt sad because that time has passed. Miss I will never be that tiny baby again and until I sat down and really looked at those photos I had forgotten she was quite so small and fragile. 


On the odd occasion, ok frequently, I share with you the frustrations that I encounter shepherding Miss I through life. For me, motherhood isn't an entirely effortless pursuit. But it is a road densely filled with joy, affection and laughter.  On a daily basis, tantrums notwithstanding, Miss I's kisses, smiles, giggles, funny words, silly dance moves and insistent instructions make me laugh and melt my heart. Watching her personality unfold as she grows and learns is easily the best thing in life. 


Last year on her first birthday I shared a few things I had learned. Today I will do the same. 


Two years go really fast. Despite the fact that some one hour blocks, usually between 5 and 7pm, last a lifetime you will blink your eyes and suddenly the baby in front of you can open doors, climb furniture, pretend to blowdry their hair while wearing high-heels, do running cuddles and insist on choosing their own clothes. 


The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Every time we ask Miss I what she dreamt about her answer is the same: cake. I can't say i don't know where she gets that from.  


The radio, or music, is a godsend. No one appreciates my dancing more than Miss I at the end of the day. A bit of background music combined with me busting some terrible moves is the perfect tonic to soothe my tetchy child through the nightly dinner preparation/cleanup/witching hour. I'm not sure who it serves best but it seems to ensure sanity is intact.  


With just a handful of words the world very quickly becomes a toddler's domain. No. More. Stop. Up. Cake. Just about does it. Anything beyond those is a bonus really. 


Little people are capable of experiencing a wide range of emotions in a very short time frame.  Miss I is more than capable of navigating hysteria, delight, tears, frustration, happiness, bewilderment, shock and joy in any given hour. Funnily enough this induces much the same reaction in me.


Transparency is endearing. Toddlers are not big on facades. If their Dad leaves the room they will happily burst into tears, if they want to be really close to their Mum they will jump up and place their nose square on with hers, if they want a toy someone else is enjoying they will snatch it or alternatively stage a show with their displeasure the shining star or if they want to explore their inner nostrils they will do so with abandon.  Although frustrating at times, this transparency is possibly the most delightful aspect of spending time with little people.


It is possible to grow, deliver and nurture tiny babies who will emerge as funny, caring, crazy and delightful toddlers. Which still blows my mind.