Monday, February 15, 2010

Happy Birthday Georgia!

My Georgia,

This letter is in honor of your fifth birthday. FIVE! You are finally five, and you looked forward to that day for so long. Like something magical will happen over night and, suddenly, WOW! life is totally different, perfect. At least for a five year old.

You are such unique and truly magical girl. I love every little thing about you. You are so smart, crazy smart, and I have no idea how that little brain is able to come up with the questions and things that you say. You make me have such a great sense of humor. And you are kind, even to Noah, as much as he drives you crazy. I see how much you love him, and know that you would do anything to take care of him and Sam. You are a wonderful big sister, and both of your brothers’ eyes just light up when you are around. They want to be just like “Jaja.”

I can not believe it has been 5 years since you were born and I set off on this wondrous journey of motherhood. They have been 5 unbelievably amazing and challenging years, ones that have taught me more about myself than I ever thought was possible. When you were born, I was so excited to be a mommy, to bring home this little girl and give her all the love in the world. And oh, how I love you.

Georgia, with this and every other birthday you have had, YOU have given ME the most precious and unexpected gift. You have made me a mother, mom, mommy, momma. I thought I knew what that was before you were born, but I really had no idea the depth of meaning in that title. And what an honor it was to have it bestowed upon me. You are my first child....the one who has to figure out this motherhood thing with me, who has to put up with my learning curve, my mistakes, my fumbles. And for that I apologize. You deserve a mommy who knows all the answers to the mind-boggling questions you have, who doesn’t yell, who can handle whatever life throws at her without freaking out.

But I also think that our relationship is so special because we are learning how to do this together, stumbling down this mother-daughter path, holding onto each other, and trying not to get too lost. When I think of us, I often go back to the word of a song that I listened to when I was pregnant with you, imagining what was to come.

My First Child by Nil Lara

I have a song

Growing inside

I've seen the response of God in me

Coming to life

Kicking me strong

Draining my blood

You're my first child

I'll show you no harm

I'll teach you my love

Waking at night

Wanting caress

I'll keep you warm beside my bed

Together we'll rest

Deep in your sleep

My body's your glove

You're my first child

I'll show you no harm

I'll teach you my love

Smelling my skin

Feeling my face

I'll feed you each and every time

You cry into space

Holding my hands

Clutching my heart

You're my first child

I'll show you no harm

I'll teach you my love

Growing away

Taking my soul

You're my first child

I'll lose you someday

To some other love

Oh, how true these words are. I will savor each and every day that we have together, before you grow up too much and realize that your mom is not cool, you want to be dropped off down the street, and you are texting on your cell phone non-stop. Those days will come too soon, and I am sure they will make my heart ache.

But right now you are still my little girl, my FIVE YEAR OLD little girl! (FIVE!!) And I will continue to treasure you and all that you still have to teach me about being a mom.

Thank you Georgia, my first child, for giving me the most important job I will ever have. I love you so much.


Monday, February 1, 2010

Gone Baby Gone

I have officially lost my mind. Lost it. It is so far gone, I have no idea where to begin to look for it. I truly discovered this fact this past weekend when I was out running errands with my daughter.

I wasn’t feeling great, it was ridiculously cold outside, and they were calling for snow. But I promised Georgia I would take her to the party store to pick out stuff for her birthday parties. So off we went after lunch to pick out Barbie everything for the glorious bounce-fest we are hosting next weekend. We went through the store, got what we needed, and walked outside to find cars and road covered in snow. I was desperate for a cup of coffee, so I decided to go to the Starbucks drive-thru on the way home.

Now since it was snowing pretty hard and colder than the tundra, there was quite a line. Fine, I could wait. I was not getting myself and Georgia out of the car for coffee when we could be cozy and warm. So after about 5-6 minutes I am the next car to pull up to the pick-up window. I see the cashier hand a cup to the driver in front of me, and suddenly I have giant brain fart. HUGE! What did I order? Did I order? Do I just order and pick up at the same window? Mind you, I have been to this one before so I am familiar with the process......and it is the same as EVERY OTHER FREAKING DRIVE-THRU ON THE PLANET!!!!! It isn’t rocket science, right? Pull up to Charlie-Brown’s-teacher-sounding speaker, tell face-less voice what I would like, drive around to funny folding-door window, give cashier (who now has a face) money, and receive hot caffeinated beverage.

But somehow that was WAAAAAAAYYYYY to complicated for my brain that afternoon. It hit me that I never put down my window to order anything. I sat in my warm car, mindlessly staring at the menu, trying to figure out whether a grande coffee with non-fat milk or a tall skim latte was better for me (by the way, there’s an app for that), and then I just drove on by. It didn’t hit me until I was about to pull up to that window to NOT receive my drink. And I was so flabbergasted that I just pulled out of line and headed home. Without the necessary caffeine, and now wondering if I had the brain capacity to operate heavy machinery.

There are all these articles about “baby-brain” and how new mothers walk around in a fog, forgetting little details, No one tells you that when that child is pulled out of you that it is COATED IN YOUR BRAIN CELLS!!! Yes, COVERED! And you will never, ever get them back.

This is all well and good for people out there with one child. I have three......THREE! Which means I am about 10 brain cells away from a paramecium. You know, those single-cell organisms in your 6th grade science books? The ones that never did anything but waddle around covered in tiny little hairs?

That is me.

So I guess what I need to know is if anyone out there has some marbles to spare, cause I seem to have totally lost mine. Anyone?