Dear Olivia,
To say it has been a difficult month would be an understatement and for the first time you’re not the sole contributor to the problems. That right there deserves a round of applause. This past month has been jam-packed with a funeral, a car break-in and a sick dog. Thankfully we decided not to bring you and Miles cross country for the funeral because you would have been very bored and very vocal about your boredom. When we returned home, we were confronted with a very sick Maddy girl and her health quickly declined over the course of a couple weeks. Your Father and I are devastated at the mere thought of Maddy being sick and naturally, began to think about all the bad things that could happen. She still may have surgery in the coming week so we’re not totally out of the woods yet but we couldn’t help reminiscing over the bond you and Madeline have. From the day we brought you home from the hospital, Maddy has been your friend and protector. She has endured every finger to the eye, tumble on to her back and the most recent, permanent marker to the face and she endured all of this without snapping at you. She has been a phenomenal “nanny” and we would miss her terribly if something happened to her. You have expressed your concern to me about Maddy and promised me you would say a prayer for her before you went to bed the other night. Fritz certainly won’t tolerate your shenanigans so we need Maddy healthy to act as a buffer.
I have been frustrated with you a lot this past month and maybe it’s the culmination of everything or your constant need to harass Miles but you too have shown signs that you’re also frustrated with us. Typically after you have been reprimanded and you’re asked to go sit down in the timeout chair, you usually call out some random word to get the last word in. One incident, you started to walk away and you shouted, “and one last thing, PISTACHIO!” You said it with a stern finger pointed at us and the dirtiest scowl I’ve ever seen displayed upon your face. Your Father and I, dumbfounded by this bizarre moment, looked at each other and asked, “did she really just shout pistachio at us?” Well the word has stuck in this house and has become a great stress reliever because I can’t begin to tell you how many obscenities I would love to shout your way and we’ve all heard what happens when we casually say an obscenity in passing when we think you’re not listening. It seriously feels like I’m living with a parrot. Anyways, ‘pistachio’ has become our faux obscenity word. It’s a nice word but has enough syllables to make you feel like you’re really giving it to someone when you say it. See, try it: “Pistachio you, you asshole!” Feels good, huh?
You have always been in to dancing and music and now demand that I turn the music up when we’re in the car. This to me is a total luxury that I miss from pre-baby days. Sometimes I fake an urgent errand I need to run just so I can play a song eardrum shattering loud in the car. You recently told me you want to take dance lessons but I’m a little scared of getting caught up in some extreme dance school that makes you wear shiny jackets and crispy Aqua Net hair. Besides, your dancing might be a little mature for the youngins being that you like to thrust your pelvis while belting out, ‘I’ve got the moves like Jagger!’ It’s every Mother’s dream to see their three year old with these kind of moves.
You get in to trouble a lot and perhaps it’s my fault for not giving you enough one-on-one time. I feel like I’m always telling you, ‘no,’ ‘stop,’ or ‘pistachio.’ I must complain a great deal to your Pediatrician because she always seems to be reassuring me how great of a kid you really are. I’m pretty sure she thinks I hate you and we all know that’s not true. We just have an incredibly complex relationship where we’re still trying to figure each other out. We bicker a great deal and then we enjoy a cup of hot cocoa in tiny teacups. We both fight to get the last word in and then we play superheroes outside in the court. I’m not sure if it’s normal for a Mother and toddler to argue as much as we do but I like to think it’s because I have a strong-willed child. I’m not opposed to you having an opinion that is yours I just wish your opinion matched mine. I know, a common argument for most Mothers and hopefully one day when you’re a Mother, you will understand. Until then, I love you lots you little pistachio.
Love,
Momma
And a little look back at you and Maddy girl
