Jane is two today. I cannot believe it.

I get sad, a little bit, when I remember the tiny pink smell-good bundle that she was. But honestly, those were dark days too. Those were days when I had to live with my parents to survive, days when they cared for Jane and me, days when we wouldn’t have made it without them.

So while I miss her baby-hood, I wouldn’t want to wind back the clock. I’m oh so very super duper thankful to be where we are now. I’m thankful to be healthy. I’m thankful she’s a sassy two year old. I’m thankful we’re all three under the same roof. Our toddler. Our terrible two-er. What would we ever do without her?

This was a busy weekend. We tried our best to get outside and enjoy the weather. We tackled painting projects (bye bye beige living room). We strung some lights on the patio. But mostly I tried to soak in as much of Jane as possible. If I could have put my nose to her and sniffed her like a flower, I would have. She’s so big. She’s so grown. She yelled, “Bye ya’ll” over and over to friends after church. I didn’t even know she knew how to say that. She amazes us every day and sometimes there just aren’t words to describe how much another person makes your heart ache with pride. I hope she always knows that. I hope she always knows how proud we are of her.

My sweet Jane, if you read this one day, know we love you always and forever. Happy second birthday.

 

Having a conversation with a toddler is like trying to do algebraic equations, solve the New York Times crossword puzzle, and set your hair on fire all at the same time. Here’s an example.

“Jane, can I brush your teeth?”

*Mistake number one: Asking  a toddler what they want to do. Unless it is eating ice cream, going outside, or watching ‘tartoons’ the answer is always no.

Jane shakes her head vehemently, “Nuh. Muckah Mouse.”

“No, we’re not going to watch Mickey Mouse right now, we’re going to brush your teeth.”

Jane eyeballs me with the fury of a detoxing woman with PMS. She loves her some Mickey Mouse.

“Get up here on the counter.”

“Nuhhhhh”

*Mistake number two: Picking up an angry, arched back toddler and forgetting to lift with my legs.

Jane rips the toothbrush from her mouth, “Mommy wuvs you?”

*I tell this to her every night before bed, and she now uses it as a very successful ploy to get me to stop, start, jump, run or do her bidding in any way.

“Yes, Mommy loves you but you have to brush your teeth.

Jane playfully bats away the toothbrush and wiggles off the counter, “Pink pogeytail?”

“Do you want a pony tail with the pink rubberband? Then let me finish brushing your teeth.”

Jane shakes her head, “NUHHHH, pink pogeytail.”

I sigh and wonder how it is that for years I judged other people’s bratty kids and yet here I am, walking the mile without even so much as a threat or a whimper. I open the bathroom drawer to retrieve said desired pink pony tail holder. The drawer desperately needs WD40, and squeaks loudly.

Jane grins, “Mommy toot?”

*I’m not sure where the toot talk began, but I’m blaming Matt.

“No, Mommy did not toot.”

Jane knits her eyebrows into an intense frown, sensing a cover-up.”MOMMY TOOT!” she insists.

“NO, it was the drawer! I did not toot!”

And then it hits me that not only has she managed to evade a proper tooth brushing, not only has she made me jump through hoops to find the exact pink “pogey tail” holder… now she’s unjustly accusing me of breaking wind and she’s not even two and I’M ARGUING WITH HER ABOUT IT.

This is my life people. 

My life with a tiny, evil genius.

 

I find myself chuckling a little bit every now and then because I write in my dressing room now. I mean, it’s a room with three closets off the sides, built in dressers, a built in desk under the window, and it connects the bedroom to my bathroom. Mine. All mine. No boys allowed. I chuckle because Angela always, always insisted that I call where I wrote the library. Not an office. A library. Writers need libraries (that was her motto). I can’t very well do that now, because, truthfully, I’m writing in the closet. She would find that funny. And insist I call it the library anyway.

I’ve been slowly but surely making that little room mine. I painted the walls a pale blue. I bought a chair to sit in. There are curtains now, and eventually I’m going to put mismatched knobs on the built in dressers. It’s a good room, and it makes my life so much easier.

So these days I find myself either in the closet, or in the yard. Yesterday Jane and I had a dinner picnic on the patio. We don’t have a table and chairs out there yet, so we spread a quilt and ate on the ground. We ate dinner just us two, and then Jane played in the yard until the sun started to go down. I’m pretty sure she would have slept out there, and the only way I could get her inside without a fit was to bribe her with a bubble bath. She totally knows the difference between a bubble bath and a regular bath.

“Bubba bath?” she chirped on our way inside.

“Yes, you can take a bubble bath,” I assured her.

“Bubba bath?” she queried again, emphasizing the word bubble to make positively sure I knew she didn’t want a regular bath with boring old water. There must be bubbles always.

So that’s how we wrapped up our day. Hours in the yard, bubbles in the bath. Thank goodness it’s Good Friday. Here’s hoping tomorrow is Good Saturday.

That’s really the best word I can think of to describe this past week. Bluster. Wind. Rain. Cold. Fog. Gloom. And I’ve loved every minute of it. No really. I love spring, and this is part of it.

The yard is coming back to life. It’s muddy and messy. Bright green things are sprouting everywhere, pushing their way through the dirt and slugs and into the foggy cold air. I imagine people who live in England, or Oregon, might find this weather a little less magical than we here in the south. That’s probably because we know that in August, when we’ve been sweating in our bras through triple digit weather all summer, we’ll be shedding tears of longing for this beautiful, moody weather. But that’s the beauty I find here. We get a little bit of all of it. Frigid winter temps. Beautiful, crisp fall days. Magical, blustery spring weather. Hot, pool centered summers where little kids run around with Popsicles melting down their arms.

I love it all. But I especially love this, right now.