marlo update | almost three

3.05.2015

"this is one thing they forget to mention in most child-rearing books,
that at times you will just lose your mind. period."
-anne lamott, plan b: further thoughts on faith 
oh, little one. errr... rather, not so little one.


in two months, you will be three.

three?

three.


every time i think this thought, my heart sighs a little. i totally understand what people were talking about- the days are long, the years are short , yada yada blah.

and i hate them for being right.

but on the flip side, i love, love, love who you are becoming.

you're spunky and fiesty, ballsy, and brave. you're sweet and empathetic, kind, and caring. you're funny as hell and i never know what is going to come out of your mouth next. you have a penchant for getting anything and everything you want from your dad- something he will surely regret later in life. but you're his girl and i get it; i have a hard time saying no to you, too.


a few things about you at almost three:

you want to wear your hair in what you refer to as an "elsa braid" every single day. it's very cute.

you change your outfit no less than six times a day. 

you are very aware of your emotions and voice them openly. i'm frustrated. i'm sad. i'm nervous. i'm angry. and i am so excited are all emotions you experience daily. most at least twice.

you ask us to "cuddle you" when you're tired and it melts us every. damn. time. 

you know how to crack an egg without getting any shell in the bowl. makes me proud.

you're obsessed with boobs and ask everyone- including strangers in the elevator- if they have them. it can get a little awkward. 

everyone who meets you tells you how beautiful you are (which i wholeheartedly agree with, obviously). yet you seem not to pay any attention to the compliment one way or another. i truly hope that is always the case. i want you to be confident sure, but i don't want you caring too much about your looks.

you won't walk into a room by yourself. "come mama, come." 

the other day when i was losing my patience and temper (ummm, i'm sorry about that), you asked me, "do you need a minute to relax and calm down? maybe take a few deep breaths, mama." apparently our methods are rubbing off on you after all.

you call me honey. it's my favorite thing ever.

at night when i'm telling you good night and that i love you, you tell me, "i love you more, mama." not possible, mo. not even remotely close to possible.



i love you to the moon, babe. forever and ever and ever. 
xoxo,
mama

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