Two years ago today I was hauling 674 bags into a private room in the hospital, impatiently awaiting your arrival. 64 iced lattes, 84 slices of cake, and not one wink of sleep later, and my first contraction hit at 2.50am. 10 hours later we met you. I’ve spent your birthday eve scrolling through photos of you being ridiculously cute and impossibly small and I’m actually too excited to sleep, so I’m writing you a little blog post that you can read when you’re older. Don’t forget to read the one from last year while you’re here. Everyone says the twos are terrible but I’m a little addicted to watching you grow into the sweetest little girl and if that means weathering a few tantrums, I’m all in.
I’d like to say I’ve found raising a little person a walk in the park. Honestly, being a mum is the most stressful job I’ve ever had which says a lot after that brief stint in catering, but being your mum is a lot more rewarding than learning how to carry 4 plates at the same time and I think I’m a lot better at it. There’s been a lot of googling “how to persuade a two-year-old to do what you want them to do” and “what to do when they say no.” I’ve learned that nothing is ever completely childproof and the more I don’t want you to do something the more joy you will take from doing it. With you, I learn things every day. I’m sure I’m meant to be passing pearls of wisdom down to you, but often it seems like it’s the other way around and I ask myself daily who is raising who?
Since your first birthday, we’ve had your first steps, your first words and now you’re at a magical age where we can have tea and toast together on a morning and you can shout more, MORE! Motherhood has been a learning curve, to say the least, (remember the time we went to register your birth and the lady asked me for your forename and I said you only had three?). Well, there’s been a lot of those moments. As a new mum, you get a pass because you are running on 3 minutes of sleep per night, and being able to string a sentence together borders on the impossible. What my worry is now that you’re two, is that there is an expectation that I will know how to navigate life with a little person.
Spoiler: I’m still winging it.
This year your party is going to be a bit different. Because of Covid, our celebrations will be smaller but no less exciting. I remember how emotional I found your first birthday, you turned one surrounded by your favourite people and it breaks my heart a little that this year will be smaller, but I can’t wait to see your little face when you see the birthday balloons waiting. This last year has been anything but normal, we’ve both lived through a global pandemic and while it hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows, you amaze me every day. I’m not sure how I got so lucky? With your blonde hair and big blue eyes, you were always going to be basic level cute but your charm and character make me the proudest mama alive.
I’ve learned a lot about you during this last trip around the sun. I’ve learned motherhood is 20% passing you snacks, 40% cuddles, 38% tantrums and 2% crying in home bargains (mostly me not you). I’ve learned the quickest way to make you mad is to actually give you the thing that you asked for.
You’re a Scorpio so you’re naturally a kind, carefree soul, a really fun combination of glee and mischief. You’re happy which I love, but what I love the most is that you are your own person which both shocks and inspires me. I don’t think I figured out how to be myself until my early 30s so well done for nailing that right off the bat. Often I’ll find you sat on the bottom step of the stairs reading a book or lining up your dollies and I’ll watch in wonder that you are so content playing by yourself. I was exactly like this as a child. You would always find me with my head in a book, in a world of my own. You’re like me, just smarter, more creative, cuter and bursting with life.
I wish I could bottle your endless energy, your creative spirit, your comedic ways and bubbly personality. Little one, as we get older, we tend to lose that sense of freedom that you enjoy with wild abandon, we get caught up in bills and chores, but you remind me that little sparks of joy can be found in the most ordinary of places. As we age, we morph into what we think society wants us to be and I am thankful that you are unapologetically you and I hope you never lose that.
This birthday was in many ways more fun than the first one, you could play with all of your toys and run around the house with your balloons and you even blew out the candles on your cake which was perhaps my favourite part of all.
We all made wishes.
Nana always told me how the most powerful wishes are made on birthday cake and I have yet to eat a piece without scrunching up my face and making one. I used to make wishes for me, but since you came along, I make them for you.
You are a force to be reckoned with baby girl, I can’t wait to see what the next year holds. (Apart from potty training, I can wait for that). Here’s to another year of hearing your little mischievous chortle and waking up to your uncontrollable bedhead that seems to have a life of its own.
