36 Months

 

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It is so hard for me to comprehend that my baby girl is 3 years old today. I remember the day I found out I was pregnant with you like it was 25 minutes ago. I can envision the moment I found out that I was going to have a daughter as if it was a few seconds ago. And here you are, 3 years old and no longer a baby.

 

You are deathly afraid of spiders. You seem to have a hearing problem, but that could be just my interpretation of the fact that you like to talk REALLY LOUDLY AT ALL TIMES. Currently you are obsessed with the Wizard of Oz. A Dorothy Barbie has been able to suffice for a few months, but we recently added the Tin Man, Scarecrow and Lion to your collection. You keep checking “for the mail in to come” of the Wicked Witch. She’s on her way babe. Less and less you refer to yourself as “baby greta”. Which breaks my heart in half. For the last few months you have been asking when you will be three because you think you want to go to school. I don’t think you have wrapped your mind around the fact that school is where I drop you off with virtual strangers and mean kids that will probably injure you and take your doll away and shove it through the fence. But so far you’re kind of excited with the possibilities. Who knew strangers and mean children and germs could be so enthralling! 

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You refuse to wear pants. Yep. Refuse. In fact, you fear for your legs so dearly that the first thing you do in the morning, often before you even open your bedroom door is take off your pajamas and put a dress on. You have gotten very good at dressing yourself. And if I dare say the word pants, you are in tears. So dresses it is at the moment. I figure you will learn after a few good knee gashings at the park that pants are your friend. 

Greta, you are more girly than I could’ve dreamed of having after your brothers. Dolls and babies, barbies and fairies, mermaids and princesses, this is your vocabulary. You have become quite obsessed with “married”. Yes, everyone is getting married to someone in your play scenarios. It cracks me up every day to listen to the conversations of your little dolls.

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This summer you are moving up to the big kids’ swim lessons, no more mommy ‘n me pool time for you. And you seem to be pretty thrilled. Again, you have not learned that you’re going to probably fear for your life in a cold large mass of water where a stranger is going to hold you and tell you to not breathe but pick up that ring there on the bottom of the pool which is twice as tall as you.

I love how sweet and sensitive you are, I love that you know exactly what buttons to push on your brothers to get their goat. I love you. Every second with you is going by too quickly. In the fall you will start preschool and I fear that I will be smashed up against the glass with snot running down the window from my sobs that you are growing up. I am scared that there will be a bigger and badder kid that may hurt you or worse, hurt your feelings. I want to be there to protect you and keep you safe. But I know that you are ready to be like your brothers and enter the big bad world around us. I just am not quite ready for that to happen so fast.

I love your expression when you are cold like this one. I love all your expressions and faces. I love your jokes. I love how you dance.

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If I could keep you how you are today, at this moment, I would. Three will become thirteen and then thirty and I will still be looking around for my little girl. Where did she go?

 

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6 thoughts on “36 Months

  1. boo hoo……….i’m soooo sad she’s not a baby anymore. she tells me everytime i mention how sad i am she’s going to school–“tati, i’ll be back after school, and i’m here right now, so don’t be sad!”. i don’t know what i’d do without my greta goo……..

  2. I cried reading your blog—can it be three years since she was born?
    time goes way too fast and pretty soon your little girl doesn’t need you anymore. Now I’m not talking you I’m talking me. Yours will never move to Africa. Sorry i’m morose today. Your Litlle girl is the sweetest thing . We all love her very much.

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