My goodness, kid. Eighteen months. How did that happen? Well, it did, and here we are. And though you are the tiniest chronologically and physically of the Rowley sisters, there’s no mistaking that you are big stuff. You want the world to know that you mean business. You have a voice, a loud and lovely one, and have developed an impressive restaurant/airplane/car scream. You are a climber, a jumper. You continue to be fearless. I love this about you.
You have more hair than your sisters did at this age; plenty for a perky little pony. You continue to collect words – real ones, you ones. You are adamant about what you like, and what you don’t. You have learned to throw a mean tantrum, going limp, melting into the floor, mouth agape in a curdling and ever-efficient protest.
You adore your big sisters. And they, you. The problem, the gift, is that you are forever watching them, and I can see it in your eyes – an unfair, blazing baby blue – that you want to do all that they do. You have no use for being eighteen months; three years old, or better, five, would be much better. On the sidewalks, you want them to hold your hands and walk you places. When they run ahead, you chase behind, your little legs pumping, your arms swinging at your sides. And you aren’t as fast as they are, yet, but you are fast. A little brute. A little beauty.
The last eighteen months have been interesting ones for me. I have struggled and I have thrived. I have experimented with change, change big and small, in an abiding effort to be the best mom I can be to you and your sisters. I have learned so much – about you, about me, about all of us – and the education continues. It always will.
Eighteen months, babe. I can’t help but think back to that day a year and a half ago when you made your debut, a hearty little lady (funny that you were the biggest at birth and are now our petite dame). I remember holding you for the first time, and kissing your peach fuzz cheeks, whispering in your ear something I tell you all the time: I love you, little girl. I remember bringing you home, home to your sisters, to this family of ours, to this world that is your world. I remember staying up with you at night, riding your screams, reveling in your snuggles, feeding you, needing you. I remember noticing that Size 1 diapers no longer fit, then 2, then 3. One day soon, there will be no diapers, no pacifier, no crib, no tantrums. I imagine I will miss the tantrums too one day.
I can’t help but look ahead. Eighteen months today. And tomorrow you will be eighteen years. Daddy is convinced that you will make us sweat; that you will look up to your sisters and do what they do even though you are years younger – even if that means liking boys and drinking beer. Part of me smiles at the thought of this and hopes he is right, that you will continue to be our sweet little rebel. I guess we have time to find out.
I know you are the third. I know you don’t get our undivided attention. No, you get our very much divided attention, but please know – and I know you do – that we love you to tiny little pieces, that you are an integral and magnificent piece of our family puzzle. Without you and your blue eyes and neon spirit, we wouldn’t be complete. Cliched, but you are too young to know about cliches.
I love you, sweet Basil. You are, and always will be, my littlest love.
If you have kids, how old are they now? Any memories of 18 months? 18 years? Do your younger kids look up to your older ones? Did you look up to, and imitate, your older siblings? Any experience with, or sage advice with respect to, tantrums?
Wonderful words to your girl. And I love the pix. She will one day too.
Thanks, Allison! I love the idea of showing her this post when she turns 18. I wonder if she will see herself in my words? If she will recognize her bold spirit, her abiding admiration for her big sisters? Or maybe she will be very different then and these words will make her smile, but more as if they describe a different person and land altogether? I wonder what I was like at 18 months? I will have to ask Mom today!
I love this. Since I am an oldest sister, it made me think about how my middle sister and I were with my youngest when we were little. I remember us spending lots of time running ahead, and her spending that time trying to catch up. But now that we are older, we always run together. I know that your girls will too.
I love your letters to your girls. They are so beautifully written and always make me cry! With lots of love for the littlest Rowley –
xo
Happy birthday to your baby. Are you describing my darling daughter at 18 mos. who is now 21 (almost 22)? It was in her stride, the one I was imagining in the picture. I loved “You continue to collect words – real ones, you ones.” “Sweet Basil” is darling. It goes from 18 mos. to 18 years in a scream!
My kids are so “black and white” in personality and fought all the time as they grew up (baby bro is 19) but now that they are Sr. and Soph at the same Big Ten University and loving life, they’ve found a greater appreciation of each other and send me pictures of them together and having fun! I almost fell out of my chair. It’s so cool.
My daughter threw lots of tantrums out of frustration. I was never afraid to pick her up and walk out of any place we were and especially if it was something to which see was looking forward. Even as a toddler, she’d be shocked. I had to do it a few times each year until she got the pictures (some disappointed moms and grandmothers at play dates but I had to do something!)
My goodness, how these 18 months have flown by in a flash. What a lovely tribute to your tiniest girl.
Isn’t it amazing how the third babies try so hard to keep up – and then manage to do it even when we’re not quite ready for them to?
Big hugs to you, today, my fellow mama of a 5, a 3, and a 1.5.
xo
When my little one was 18 months, I hit the low of lows as a parent… she went through a bad sleep spell and I thought I’d lost my mind. But! She got through it, so did I, and now I am the mama of a 3 year old who was once 18 months, and I can’t believe how fast the time goes. Many blessings to your sweet family.
I love these words to your littlest creature. I had hoped to put pen to paper and write letters like this to my tiny boy, but I haven’t done so and he’ll be 3 in November. Time, and the best of intentions, escape me. Do you have any words of wisdom for dealing with tantrums having been through the roughest part of them times two already? I am in the depths of the “terrible twos,” trying to ignore the warnings of the daycare providers that three is worse. I am a single parent, which makes the tantrums all the more frsutrating because if I walk him out of a store, which I did twice in the most recent past, I suffer because my shopping doesn’t get done. I’ve tried time-outs, but his little body is constantly in motion and he won’t sit still for them; instead, he moves, I move him back, he moves again, and it’s a battle of wills. I hate to admit that I frequently end up on the losing end of Super Nanny’s words of wisdom about time-outs. I have tried counting (1, 2, 3…), but get confused as to what I’m supposed to do at 3 when he’s pushing my frazzled nerves, crying, “I do it” while struggling out of his pajamas, and hearing the ticking clock taking another minute away from when I can be at work. I’m in the thick of wondering if this ever ends or if my life will be one tantrum followed by another for the rest of time. If your commenters have advice or even encouraging words that this too will pass, then I would certainly appreciate you and them even more than I already do. Beautiful words, here, for your beautiful daughter. She is so lucky to have a mommy like you!
A sweet tribute to a wonderful little girl.