this one time...

”This One Time…”

Thanksgiving 2017

Dear Sophia,

This world we live in is in a hurry.  On Mondays we’re hustling toward Fridays, on blistery days we’re hoping for the warmth of the sun.  We transition from one holiday to the next so fast they start to blur together.  Each year, the stores rush in displays and décor for the next season, the next main event.  We hardly had a chance to realize fall had arrived because the Christmas trees were up the day after Halloween.  Thanksgiving doesn’t have much of a chance.

Thanksgiving, though, is one of my most beloved holidays.  It’s an opportunity for family members who don’t usually see one another to sit at the shared table.  It’s the hum of conversation and sound of clinking glass; the soft words of family prayers and the pitter-pattering of little feet.  It’s not only about the plentiful food, but the chaos in the kitchen, like a practiced dance as we’re fighting over the oven and counter space.  It’s the greeting of the guests, the roundtable thanks, the laughter, and the kids’ table.  It’s the lingering after dinner, the leisurely pace, the pause we’ve been craving and savor in this busy, dizzy world.

This year, I decided to add graduate school to my already full plate – a demanding job with added travel and being a mommy to you.  What I soon found was that getting through each day felt like a cruel exercise in time management – any time I chose homework or the office was less time spent with you.  And so I’d sacrifice sleep instead, only to fall asleep during playtime.  As much and as hard as I wished for the power to stop time, I knew it wasn’t possible, so all I could do was learn to do my best with the time I have been given.

I’ve said this before: There are no guarantees in this life.  We’re not given a timetable or score sheet, and we’re not promised tomorrow.  I think about what I want to tell you today, even if you’re not ready to comprehend it.  And so, I write.

I write about moments and glimpses in time.  I write about your milestones, but also about our day to day, when you’ve made me laugh or pause or even cry, as I’m realizing what a big girl you’re becoming.  I write about a new word or phrase you’ve added to your vocabulary, another song you’ve picked up, hand motions and all.  I write about the pictures I’m sending to your e-mail address, snapshots of the places we’ve gone and new things we’ve tried and different foods we’ve eaten.  I write about times you’ve challenged me and other times you’ve equally surprised me.  I write about things I’m trying to instill in you but mostly about what YOU have taught ME, because you have been my teacher all along.

So what have I learned this year?

Be present.  In this world of distractions and the concept of multitasking, it’s easy to lose focus.  Whenever I’ve reluctantly turned my attention away, you gently remind me to be with you in the here and now.  “Mommy, look!” you’ll exclaim.  “Come here,” and I’m there.  Ever since you were a baby, you’ve wanted to be included, literally a part of the conversation.  Your daddy and I will be talking about our day and you’ll call one of us by name until we stop and look over, only for you to flash your trademark smile.  It’s a constant reminder to be mindful.

Be nice.  You have an incredibly kind heart and a caring, sweet demeanor.  Your teachers remark about how empathetic you are, so in tune with others’ emotions, hugging your friends when they’re in distress.  You look forward to feeding Bianca every day and showering her with kisses.  Even though your cousin James has surpassed you in size, you recognize that he’s younger, just as you innately know and respect that cousin Addie is older.  Every night since your cousin Ryan was born only a short month ago, you ask to see his picture – such a simple request, but you’re instantly happy.  You’ve shown us that there are so many ways to exhibit kindness and affection, and to express it as often as we can.

Be bold.  Somehow, you find a way to help us forget ourselves – the shyness, the self-consciousness, the awkwardness.  You order us to run outside.  You encourage us to dance in the middle of restaurants.  You invite people into our lives and connect us in meaningful ways.  And you’re not afraid – of differences, of discovering, of going a bit off-roading.

Be funny.  Whether you’re “teecle” tackling me or making up a new game to play, your laughter fills our home.  When times are stressful, you lighten the mood; when you have the floor, you’re ready to shine.  We often muse about our little firecracker, bursting with personality, easily offering up your big, cheesy smile.  You’ve taught us not to take life too seriously and to let loose and have fun.

Be you.  I hope you never lose your positive outlook on the world.  One day it may not seem as open or straightforward, but that inner optimism will get you though.  It’s the strut in your step, your creative nature, your independence.  It’s the way you belt out songs, how you need to organize things and put them away, the rush of excited conversation when I pick you up.  It’s your big, warm hugs, your horizontal sleeping, and, “I love you, Mommy,” which are the best words ever spoken, every time.

I want to thank you for teaching me to be, and today I capture this letter as our picture in time – despite the flurry and frenzy of the start of the holiday season.  Thank you, my smart, darling, headstrong, sassy girl, for reminding me to recharge and reassess, and for reserving an oh, so grateful heart.

Love,

Mommy

two fancy

My dear Sophia,

Happy 2nd birthday, sweetie!

Today we are exploring Jim Thorpe to celebrate your birthday with a train ride and some ice cream.  It's raining, but you don't seem to mind at all -- you can always make the best out of every situation -- turn a crappy weather day around with your sunny disposition, find wonder and amusement in a new and different place.

While thinking about what I wanted to tell you today, it reminded me of this quote in the movie, The Help, which is actually based on the novel of the same name by Kathryn Stockett.  (Please read it one day).  In the movie, a slave/nanny named Aibileen tells the little girl she's raising over and over, "You is kind.  You is smart. You is important."  She says this because the girl's mother and mistreats and abuses her, and so Aibileen wants to remind her she is loved.

So today I want to tell you that you are quite amazing for a two-year-old.  Here are just a few reasons why...

You are kind.  You are sweet and tenderhearted.  I can't even count the number of times your teachers have expressed how you comfort others, hugging and kissing your friends when they're upset or crying.  You've always been very in tune with emotion since before you could speak, and will offer a hand or a warm gesture to anyone who needs it.  You love hugging all your family members, especially Bianca.  You can recognize when someone is smaller than you and will be gentle with them.  When you're mistreated, you won't fight or display anger; instead, you'll stay calm and collected.  Even with your mischievous streak, you can discern what's right and wrong and how people should be treated.

You are bright.  You have the absolute best smile -- it brightens up the room!  Your energy and joy is apparent in everything you do.  And beyond that, you're intuitive.  I know it's normal to be a sponge at this age, but the way you piece things together, your patience for building and constructing, figuring out how things work, and not forgetting a thing, is special.  You've always been able to sit quietly, absorbing a book, and these days we could read 20-30 books to you (at a minimum) and you'll ask for more.  I love watching your mind churning, and now that you're able to communicate with us, you're teaching us to see and notice things we may not have stopped to consider otherwise.

You are fun.  What an adventurous spirit!  I like that you will try everything at least once.  You're spontaenous and brave.  You can take everyday things and make them extraordinary.  You're imaginative and create games out of tupperware and mixing bowls, spices, and pot lids.  You enjoy peekaboo, whether it's pulling a blanket off your head or jumping out from behind a closet.  You run, and dance, play piano, and sing (lately it's Row, Row, Row, Your Boat).  You talk to your toys, stuffed animals, and babydoll, and will carry them with you wherever you're going.

You are loved.  You are so incredibly loved.  You talk about your family all the time, sometimes in your sleep!  Mommy and Daddy, Big Poppy and Mu, Nai-Nai and Yeh-Yeh, aunties Rach, Sarah, and Jana, Nan... the list goes on and on.  There are so many people in your life that love and care for you, and always, always remember that.

Here is to another year in your journey, and wishing you so many more laughs and adventures along the way.

Love,

Mommy

daddy's day

Dear Sophia,

I would tell you how awesome your father is, but I think you already know that.

Your daddy waited several years to have you, and when he knew you were coming I could see the light of hope and possibility in his eyes.

Your daddy used to talk to you while you were in my belly, and nicknamed you "SGR" for "sugar," which were your initials so we could call you by something without revealing what we'd name you.

Your daddy cried when you were born because he was so thankful and amazed you were ours.

Your daddy made up many songs to sing you to sleep as a newborn, but my favorite was "wiggleworm."

Your daddy patiently read to you while you fit perfectly in his lap, avidly watching him.

Your daddy couldn't wait to come home at night to see you, and as you got older you were just as delighted to see him at the end of each day.

Your daddy has been peed and pooped on, sucked up your snot, sat in your throw up, taken you to countless doctor appointments and to the ER, and been worried sick when you're sick.

Your daddy loves to hear you laugh.  He'll tickle and bounce you on his shoulders, swing and spin you around, and can't help laughing himself even during momemts when he's trying to be stern.

Your daddy tells you you're beautiful every day because he wants you to know and remember that when you're older and unsure.

Your daddy can't wait to talk about you and share stories about you to anyone and everyone.

Your daddy beams when he hears, "Hi Daddy!"

Your daddy sleeps with you on the floor on nights you're scared and inconsolable, even when he's beyond tired.

Your daddy keeps a list of words you're saying now on your own because he's so proud of the big girl you're becoming.

Your daddy brings you outside to teach you about the world and feed your love of nature, pointing out rocks and trees and animals along the way.

Your daddy takes you to visit Lily and Lucas so you already know how to say their names and who they are.

Your daddy has always been the best man for mommy and best example for you, taking care of his family and showing us what it means to be loved.

Sophia, you are one lucky girl, and on this Father's Day remember to give your daddy a big hug and kiss to thank him for being a wonderful daddy.

Happy Father's Day, my love.

Love,

Mommy