Belly Watch: August 2009

Making her own birthday cupcakes

Look!! Eggs!!

Lesson of the day: Eggs do not do well when you crack them together.

Ana's Party!! Welcome to the garden of fun!

Bouncy castle, tricycle, slide, pool, and various other dangerous fun things for kids to do!

The spraying of Lucas with a hose has become a yearly tradition. Good job he seems to like it!

Heath food galore!

Let the unwrapping begin!

(nothing says 'klassy' like cleavage at a 3 year old's birthday party)

Patiently waiting for cupcakes

Celebrating at school with her little friends

Chocolate mustache

Lots of presents!

Playing with Barbie and her Dora legos

For some reason, every present Ana unwrapped she said "I know what this iiiiis" even though she clearly had no idea! Cute

Untitled from jasmin hutchinson on Vimeo.

Dancing with Nana's card

Untitled from jasmin hutchinson on Vimeo.

Three. You are three today. You are my big girl. My funny, sassy, mischievous, girl, with a killer smile and big brown eyes. You have discovered princesses, and books, and you are a budding artist. You love to look at yourself in the mirror. I pray you will always be as enchanted by your own reflection as you are right now. It is tough being a girl, we see every flaw in ourselves, real or imaginary. But not you, not now. You love what you see! You twirl around so you can admire your hair. You puff out your dress and stand on your tiptoes. You smile and always seem surprised when the mirror smiles back! Not that I blame you at all, you are beautiful.

You don’t sleep. You have come up with a multitude of crafty ways to extend your bedtime. They are endlessly entertaining and infuriating. Sometimes you don’t even pause between excuses, you just rattle them off at top speed and hope one sticks: “I need milk, I need juice, I need to brush my teeth again, one more story? Pleeeeease? Do you want to bounce with me? Come on, it is fun. I need my purple blankie, my baby doll needs to pee, I think I hear Briscoe, can I call Nana?” Your need for sleep is so little that your Daddy and I have had to divide and conquer. He puts you to bed and I get up with you. It is the only way we can survive. Your dad is so good at reading your bedtime stories. He does the best voices and sound effects. And on the nights when I read to you and find out you know every word, every picture, and you will NOT let me skip any part of the story, I realise just how many hours your dad has spent reading you these stories. He is endlessly patient, and loves you more than anything. I hope you grow up to meet a man as wonderful as your ‘Papa Bear’.

You copy everything I do. You put on your headphones and announce you are going for a run. Your teachers must think you are a little crazy. At playtime when the other kids are swinging and sliding you are on your own, running laps of the playground and stretching. One time you ran your little self into a bout of heat exhaustion, and scared that life out of me and Dad when we had to come to pick you up in the middle of the day. But secretly, I was more than a little proud. If you quit before you collapse you just aren’t trying hard enough (joke James, wind your neck in)!

You copy things I say too. You put your hands on your hips and scold your father, emphasizing different words to get the best effect: “James, what have you done? What HAVE you done? What have you DONE?” Then softly and shaking your head “Ohhhh James, what have you done here?” It’s ok though, because he has an uncanny ability to filter out the female voice. I think it is a frequency he does not hear, like a dog whistle or something. Once you spend more time with your Grandma I think you’ll understand. She is a talker.

We chat every day on the way home from school. Well, mostly you chat at me, you don’t actually like me to participate. If I speak out of turn you will yell “No, I am talking to YOU. You are NOT talking to ME”. You pretty much ignore everything I say until I call another driver an asshole then all I hear from the back of the car for the next 10 minutes is “Move it asshole, move it asshole”. Thanks. I appreciate it.

Everything has to be just so. Oh boy, does everything have to be just so. Apparently it is the end of the world if we dry you with the wrong towel. “Noooooooooooooooooo, Pink towel, PINK TOWEL” and if I cut your toast up when you were expecting to receive it whole you would think I have just severed your arm. You hit the ground like a hand grenade just went off. I didn’t realize toast was something worth completely sacrificing your dignity over, but I guess it is!

You are just as particular with your baby dolls though. It is very sweet to watch you mother them. You feed them, comfort them, and tuck them into bed like a little Florence Nightingale. You spend perhaps a little too much time obsessing over their bodily functions though. “Mummy, baby pooped. Ohhhhh no, baby pooped. Now I need to wash her butt. Can you get me a wipe? Ohhh baby, you pooped your pants again. Ohhh no. You are stinky.” James thinks this is the English in you. Apparently, as a nation, we are very into poo. I tried to deny this until the last time we went home, and Mel and Warren gave us a full rundown of Mia’s poops before we even unpacked our bags!

Like I said, you are very funny. You never fail to make us laugh every day. You even see the humour in your own little idiosyncrasies. When you go into full on meltdown mode over something oh so important and I ask why you are crying you will occasionally pause, reflect, and say “Because I wanted a red gummy.” Then you try so hard to keep your mean face true, but a smile creeps onto the corner of your mouth and betrays you. I love this. You try so very hard to be crafty, but you are as transparent as can be. Probably my favourite is when I tell you to stop bouncing on the bed and you say, very sweetly, “Ok Mummy, it is time for you to leave and let me go to sleep now. Night night” Ha ha! Right!

As our only child, and the apple of our eye, you are spoiled rotten. You are an international traveler; you go to private school, ballet lessons, tumblebus; you have annual memberships to all the kiddie stomping grounds in town, like the aquarium and the children’s museum. You have your own personal bouncy castle, Jeep, and pool; a DVD collection big enough to open a children’s Blockbuster; and you appear to be single handedly keeping the Dora franchise in the black. I’m telling you this not so that I have a place to point you when you ask why you are paying your own way through college, but because it is never enough. Nothing your father and I could give you is ever going to be enough. If it made you smile for just one second I’d give you everything I have. Except my cereal. As you know, that will earn you a rap on the knuckles with my spoon, but that is ok, because it makes you laugh. Win-win!

It’s not an easy gig being your Momma, but it is the most rewarding job I could imagine. Sometimes I don’t know if I’m good enough to deserve such an honour. I second guess the time I spend away from you. Is it ok? Are you happy when I am not there? Do you call out for me when you scrape your knee? I second guess the things I feed you. Do you get enough vegetables? Are you going to turn into a banana? I worry if you are hurt by that little snot at school who says she is not your friend, and won’t share the books with you. I’m gonna take her out one day, I don’t care if she is three! I wonder, how much do you miss out by not living near your extended family? Do you know your grandparents? Do you know Baby Mia is not just a catch-all name for every toddler you see, but a beautiful little girl just like you? Your cousin.

But on the whole you appear to be a happy, vivacious, smart little girl, so I guess I’m doing ok. Or maybe you are doing ok regardless of me. Who knows? I’ll just keep on trying to be the best Mum I can be to the best little girl I know.

So anyway, Happy Third Birthday, Ana Banana. I love you fiercely and unconditionally. I can’t wait to see what the next year brings for us!

Love Momma xx