Dear Maggie,

You turn three years old today! You've been practicing holding up three fingers all morning and are getting pretty good at keeping that pinky down. Don't worry if you don't perfect the technique today, though, you have a whole year to practice!

We made waffles this morning, and you helped me mix the batter and stir the apple juice. It was so fun to see the excitement on your face as you helped me make your birthday breakfast. Then when breakfast was all ready, Cash and I sang "Happy Birthday" to you! You grinned all through the song, but at the end surprised us by bursting into tears... I gave you a big hug and you said, "I want my daddy to sing, too!" I assured you that daddy would get a chance to sing to you when we had birthday cake and candles and that calmed you down, and then we ate our food. You love your daddy, and miss him when he's gone to work. You got to go on a little Daddy-daughter date recently, and you talk more about your special night with dad than you do about the movie you saw with him! I'm so glad that you love your daddy so much and I hope that you know how much he loves you, too.

Recently you have (finally) become interested in drawing, and you've made several sweet pictures of our family (some pictures were made on your family). In most of the pictures you also include something that, upon being asked, you explain is Mommy's cell phone, or Daddy's computer. I thought this was funny at first, but then I also started to worry that perhaps you associate those things too closely with mom and dad. Perhaps you see mommy on the phone too often, or daddy working at his computer, instead of seeing us that way we should be: with you and Cash in our laps, reading books or giving cuddles. These are the things that I want you to remember from your childhood. Even now as I'm typing this little letter to you, you are on my lap, wanting my attention. I know that someday in the future attention from me will not be as sought after or as appreciated as it is now, and I try to remind myself of this, remind myself that right now I can make you so happy with the simple act of giving you my full attention. This isn't always easy, Maggie dear, because I'm not a perfect mommy, but I want you to know that I am working on it.

With the weather getting warmer here in Utah, we are finally able to venture out of doors and head for the "play-park" where you can stay for hours. Cash follows you everywhere you go and I have to watch pretty attentively because you both are avid climbers and have no fear. Being outside makes you come alive and you run and jump and laugh and play, and there are often tears shed when it's suggested that we need to get home. I can't wait to buy a home with a big backyard just for you that you can play in all day and not be hindered at all by mommy's schedule.

Maggie, you are a dear, and it's many times a day that you will say to me, "Mommy, I love you. Happy Birthday, Mommy!". Someday you will realize that "happy birthday" is a once-a-year sentiment and not an everyday expression of love, but I will miss it when you do. I will miss your lisp, and your baby face, and the way you pucker your lips to give a kiss. I will miss the way you sing the ABC's, leaving out half the letters and re-composing the tune to your liking. Some of these things will begin to disappear as you continue to grow into a little girl, and leave toddler-hood behind. And as much as I look forward to getting to know 3-year-old Maggie, just know that 2-year-old Maggie will always, always have a little place in my heart.

I love you my dearest,
Love, Mom

Dear Maggie,

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LOVE! We had your birthday party last night with Grandma and Papa Quinn, and the rest of the Quinn aunts, uncles, and cousins- minus Jason’s family. Your favorite part was singing “Happy Birthday” and blowing out the candles on your "pancake", so we did it two times just for you. We could have stopped right there and you would have been fine- who needs presents when you can blow out birthday candles? But we went ahead and helped you open gifts. You did this with an air of disdain, as if to say, "I'm doing this for your benefit, not mine..." I can hardly believe that you are turning two today. It doesn’t seem that long ago that I held you in my arms for the first time, and now you’re a walking, talking, and very opinionated little person.



I remember those first few luxurious months when you would accommodate my need to just sit and hold you in my arms- probably because you were still immobile at the time. As soon as you mastered the art of crawling, it was all I could do to keep you on my lap more than 5 minutes. With each level of mobility learned, you have found a new sense of independence and freedom. From the time you wake up to the time your little head hits the pillow, you are constantly on the go. Nap times are a battle of the wits and I have to coax you to sit on my lap by reading you books in the rocking chair. After a few books, I ask if you would like me to sing you a song. And after a few songs, you finally fall asleep, your head heavy on my shoulder, your breathing slow and even. Bedtime is different, I think because by that time you have completely tapped your energy reserves. When it’s suggested that you put on your pajamas, you do so willingly, even enthusiastically, and then it’s you who suggests some “nuggle” time, either with daddy or me. I love this time where you will lay back in my arms and just look at me with your blue eyes until you calmly drift off to sleep. Sometimes I will just sit there in the rocking chair, long after you’re asleep, cradling you, and trying to fully take advantage of these rare moments when I can hold you close, kiss your pink, pink cheeks, and study your sweet little face.

Sweet as your little face may be, it is also an outer reflection of your current inner emotion. You, my dear, have mastered the art of facial expression. A wrinkled nose and gritted teeth let daddy and I know you’re angry. Raised eyebrows and a tilted back head and we know a “Who’s Really In Charge” battle is about to begin. Big grins and squinted eyes are a sign that you’re having a good time. And, my favorite, a closed mouth smile and a calm, relaxed face and I know you’re about to say my favorite phrase of all, “I lub you”.



Your facial expressions may be easy to read, but sometimes it still takes a little bit of detective work to figure out what you are actually trying to say with words. The other day we were all in the car and you started crying and saying, “Crazies, crazies!” At first your father and I were wondering if you were lamenting the family you had been born into, but I finally figured out that you were asking for raisins. “Lippers” are slippers, “neenky” is stinky, “gramma eggs” are scrambled eggs and “dee-u-sis-lis-us” is delicious. Then there are words that need no translation at all, like “Mine!” “No!” and “Stop it!”. Sometimes there are days when these words seem to be the only ones exiting your mouth, and on those days you usually end up in a time out. Fifteen seconds after I close the door to your room, it opens, your head pops out and you make it known that you have had a complete attitude change and are now going to be a “good goi”.

You continue to be our little Xerox™ machine, repeating back the last few words of every sentence we say to you. And then you’ll add overheard phrases to your own sentences, like when you firmly tell me in the mornings that you want “pant-cakes for breakfast, okay honey?” The copying doesn’t stop with words anymore, it has now spilled over into actions, and while I go about taking care of my daily tasks, you are always right there behind me- my little mini shadow. You watch as I bounce Cash on my hip and do the same to your baby doll. When I’m cleaning the dishes, you’ll pull a chair over to the counter so you can stand by my side and do the same. When I’m scolding, you’ll put your hand on your hip, tilt your head to the side and shake your little finger at me and it’s as though I’m looking in a mirror. At this point daddy shakes his head, probably wondering how he’s going to cope when you’re older and a full-functioning version of me.



I have to say Maggie, that being your mommy is sometimes one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. It is physically, mentally, and sometimes even emotionally challenging and draining. But it’s also one of the most rewarding things I’ve ever done. I love you so much that sometimes I really feel like I could burst. But something inside me must be growing to hold all that love, because each day I know you, I love you a little bit more. I’m so glad you’re mine, Maggie. These last two years have been some of the happiest of my life, and I’m looking forward to the years ahead- neenky days and all!

Love, Mommy

Dear Maggie

I recently got the idea from reading someone else's blog page to write periodic letters to Maggie that she will one day hopefully be able to read and appreciate. Ben suggested that I write a letter on her birthdays and half birthdays, but at this stage in her life, she is changing so much that she's almost like a new person each and every month. I've decided to try and write her a letter every three months, so as not to drive myself crazy with a monthly update, but write often enough to hopefully capture some of her toddlerhood on paper lest we forget it. I just wrote one for her 21 month mark and Ben suggested that I post it (I don't flatter myself by thinking anyone else other than Maggie will be interested, but here it is anyhow, hope it at least makes you smile).

-Kathryn


Dear Maggie:

You are now 21 months old, just three months shy of your second birthday. People keep telling me to brace myself for the terrible twos, but I am hoping and praying that we’ve already been through all that; that you experienced them prematurely. You can already be so exasperating, but luckily you are also very cute. Exasperatingly cute.

Today I was trying to put away a huge pile of laundry that I had folded. Your little brother started crying in the other room and while I was gone to get him, you decided to play in the mountain of folded clothes, flinging shirts and underwear all over my bedroom floor. I could hear you gleefully announcing with your little lisp that the room was now messy. This isn’t something new to you, unraveling my day’s work faster than I can keep up. I often find you unloading the dirty dishes from the dishwasher, smearing peanut butter and jelly all over the tabletop, or going through the garbage, distraught that I would sweep up and throw away a Honey Nut Cheerio that had fallen on the floor. Your curious little mind is always two steps ahead of me, looking for something new to try or explore. I’m always straining to hear what you’re doing in the next room while I clean up your latest mess. And I have to be quick to intervene when necessary, like when your explorations involve you, a box of Q-tips and Cash’s left nostril.

Sometimes I feel guilty for having another baby so soon. You were only 19 months old when Cash was born, and I feel like maybe we robbed a bit of babyhood from you. That we forced you to become a big sister too soon. But you love Cash and when he’s within your reach you’re always kissing him and cradling the top of his head in your hand. Sometimes in your excitement to be near him, you forget our reminders to be soft and gentle and I can see the tips of your fingers turn white with pressure against his skull. Like you’re trying to make Cash really feel your love. You also love to point out to daddy and me what Cash is doing throughout the day. A baby play-by-play if you will. It doesn’t matter how obvious it is, you will tell us almost every time when Cash is cwying or eepin’ (sleeping) or if he just tooted. Mama? What? Mama? What? MAMA!!! What??? And then you whisper “Cass eepin’”!

Cass is how you pronounce Cash. This is one of the many words that you have created your own pronunciation for. Daddy especially likes to listen to your particular take on the English language and I often hear you reciting sentences at daddy’s prompting where you haltingly declare that you would love a spanking or that you’re a nerd. You also are quickly picking up on phrases that are commonly heard in our household like Oh my Gosh which in “Maglish” sounds like Oh myee Goss! It’s cute, but we’re quickly learning to filter anything and everything we say in front of you. You’re a little sponge, eager to hear, learn, and repeat everything that goes on in front of you.

While I’ve been writing this, you got up from your nap and are now curled up on my lap while you wake up the rest of the way. You look at me and whisper Mom. I ask you what, but you don’t say anything, just put your little hand on my cheek and smile. It’s moments like these that I love you more than anything and terrible twos or not I’m so glad I’m your mommy. Now if only I could teach you how to fold clothes.

--Mom