Wednesday, August 29, 2012


I haven't exactly been completely rational about dealing with this whole growing up thing that Brigid has insisted on doing over the last (almost) three years, because I am very prone to the lovely (and extremely annoying) 'WHERE DID MY BABY GO?!?!' type of whining and hand-wringing, but lately she seems to be taking it to an entirely different level that I am having even more trouble accepting.

As of last night, she randomly stopped calling Steve 'daddy', because he is now just 'dad'. As is 'DA-ad. Come ON! Let's GO!'.

I mean, come on. She is almost three, here, not almost thirteen. Don't we deserve another couple of attitude-free years?

(When we were at preschool meet and greet this morning, though, I think she reverted back to 'daddy', so all may still be right in our world. For a few more days, anyway.)

She invents entire narratives in her head, with no input from the rest of us. She talks to herself (as she told us last night, when we tried to figure out what she was saying in the backseat on the way home from dinner), and she doesn't want to tell us what she's saying.

She knows all of the words to the 'I Feel Better' song from Doc McStuffins. I don't know all of the words to that song, and I've heard it enough that I should.

I have two (kind of loud) necklaces that are the exact same, with the exception of color. I wore the yellow one today, and I had to double check with her to see if I'd worn it last week, or if I'd worn the pink one, instead. She told me I'd worn the pink one, and she was right.

It's nice to have that kind of help, since my own memory is obviously shot right now.

She wants to play Go Fish. All. Of. The. Time. Which, you know, isn't annoying at all (insert sarcastic tone, here), and she constantly tells me she's 'kicking my butt' at it. I have plans to introduce Elf on the Shelf at Christmas time this year, as well as an Advent activity calendar, and I'm always wondering if she's going to get the story behind the elf or want to participate in the activities, but she will. Because she is this little person of her own, now, whether I think she should be or not. She has imagination and memory and creativity and opinions, and it is the most awesomely amazing thing I've ever seen develop. But it's also the most heartbreaking, because yeah...she's growing up.

I want to do nothing but hold her, and squeeze her, and kiss her cheeks, and cuddle with her on the couch for hours at a time, but she's never been a fan of that before, and she's even less ok with it now. So, I settle for whatever kisses she'll give me, whatever 'I love you mom-mom's I get as I'm leaving for work, and I'm happy with those.

And I just try to ignore the rest of this getting older thing that keeps happening whether I want it to or not.

(And, at least I can comfort myself with the fact that although she's growing up, and she's developing a little diva-ish attitude that I can't seem to fight, she's not the kid that, when asked why she wouldn't tell her new preschool teacher goodbye as we were leaving today, yelled 'BECAUSE I DON'T LIKE HER!' in front of a bunch of strangers. So, there's that...)

(Seriously, that poor mom. She was mortified. And I'm sure it didn't help that the other 7 or 8 people standing around at the time couldn't keep a straight face at the announcement, but you know...we're only human.)


  1. I decided on Monday that she is getting way too big. Not acceptable.

  2. There is a greater than zero chance that Ry WILL be THAT kid. Hold me.

    The process of watching them grow is utterly fascinating and horrifying at the same time. Just in the last week, Ry has started NEGOTIATING with us. I told her she couldn't have donuts for breakfast the other day, and she proceeded to plead her case, with sad puppy dog eyes, in complete gibberish, with the only intelligible words being "doughnut" and "mommy". I love it and hate it at the same time.

    But at least you get to go through the wee tiny bit again! :)


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