Not So Fast

Hey little girl, what's your hurry?

You have all the time in the world to grow up, and I only have a few short years to call you my little girl.

Already you talk of boys, cold creams, and how embarrassing it is to have people see you being cradled in my arms. So these arms only squeeze you tighter, wishing they could squeeze you back into being my little girl.... knowing they will have to open soon to let you go. To let you grow.

I see you sometimes watching me with sadness and longing when I'm holding your baby sister. Swinging her up and down, holding her tiny hand to help across the room. I don't do these things because I love her more. I do these things because I still can. I'm strong enough to throw and catch her mid-air. I hold her hand to cross the room because she needs me to, she with her shaky and uncertain legs that just learned how to walk.

Would you let me still swing you in my arms (do I have the upper body strength to do so? Hahaha!)? Will you still let me hold your hand as we walk? Often you walk ahead of me, so eager to see what's around the next corner. Or worse --- you run ahead of me, because I'm walking too slowly and you are in a rush to get to what's next.

Slow down. Please. Slow down.

I waited so long for you. Missed so much the first 3 years of your life. Is it so wrong to want to squeeze the most out of every minute we have together now?

My favorite part of the day is when it's time to sleep. Because when we lie down it's time for you to be still. And you'll let me hold you and cradle you in my arms until you fall asleep. And when you do I can spend hours watching you, without you feeling self-conscious of my stare. I can marvel at how big you've grown, how beautiful you've become, and how, when you're asleep, you look more like the little girl you still are, instead of the 7-going-on-40 year old you can sometimes be.

Little girl, what's the rush?

Stay mine a little while longer.

If I Didn't Love You

In the midst of a temper tantrum this afternoon Pilar yelled out: "you don't love me anymore!" and it broke my heart. I tried to explain to her why it was she couldn't play Wii after being so horribly obnoxious to both her yaya and me - and how it was because I DO love her that I was trying to teach her how treat people with respect and kindness. I know most of it went over her head. But I do hope she learned something today.

I write these words in the hopes that she'll read them someday and know how much I love her and that my life will always be dedicated to making sure she lives hers in the best way that she can.

Today you said that I didn't love you anymore.

I would have laughed if it didn't hurt my heart so much.

Part of me wanted to scream: what more do you want from me?!?

I put my life on hold for you. To be always with you. To help you grow. To make sure we could give you the best childhood that we can. To help you become the best person you can be.

How do I explain to you that everything I do that you dont like, I don't like either. But the rules, the schedules, the consequences, the rewards, and even the scolding - they are all for you. And for your own good.

If I didn't love you I would let you sleep when you wanted, not caring that you have to be up at 5 the next day, making you sleep deprived and unprepared for the big day ahead.

I would let you watch TV until your eyes popped or play Nintendo or PSP until your fingers fell off. I wouldn't care that they keep you from developing your own imagination and that they wont teach you how to deal with REAL people and REAL situations.

If I didn't love you I would let you yell at your yaya, the driver and the maid whenever they didn't do what you wanted or were slow in getting you what you asked for. I would let you hit them or hurt them so that you won't learn the values of kindness and respect.

I would let you grow up an abusive brat who took people for granted, especially those who live their lives away from their own children and families to take care of you. I would not teach you how to value these people who try to work with dignity despite their station in life, and who love you as they would love their own.

If I didn't love you I would let you talk back to me and your pappy. I would give you everything you wanted, whether you deserve them or not. I would not care if you didn't learn the value of working toward a goal. The value of hard work. The lesson of disappointment. The drive of determination.

If I didn't love you I would let you grow up thinking everything is owed to you, just because. I would let you grow up with a false sense of entitlement, and not teach you the value of self worth.

If I didn't love you.

But I do.

Love you with all my heart.

And every breath in my body.

And what I want for you when you grow up --- more than becoming a nuclear physicist or a rocket scientist, more than a Harvard graduate or a master of the universe is this ---- That you grow up to be a good person. A GOOD person. The best person that you can be.

Someone who is kind and loving. Someone who respects all people, regardless of who they are. Someone who will try to do the right thing, the good thing, each and every time.

So I try, and we struggle, but never forget that I do, always have, always will, love you.

That's why I make you stand in the corner.

For Olivia

I call you Livie-Love-Love. Because I love you so much it bears saying twice.

You look like me. Should I say sorry? When I was pregnant with your older sister I prayed that she would get daddy's straight hair and beautiful arched eyebrows, and my legs and dimple. When I was pregnant with you all I could pray for --- was not to lose you and for you to make it to term. And here you are, born at exactly 37 weeks. Yes you have my wavy hair, my big bushy eyebrows and daddy's thighs.... But I wouldn't have done it any other way. You are beautiful in mine and God's eyes.

You laugh without sound. One side of your head is flatter than the other. Your poop smells like a toxic dump (literally and figuratively). You throw up half of what you eat 8 times out of 10. And you get angry when no one talks to you while you're awake (even if that's at 3 in the morning).

You are a sight to behold. You are a miracle.

When you smile it brings tears to my eyes. You smell like love.

I am watching you sleep as I type these words, and my heart is filled with the wonder of you. And the knowledge that everything, every big, little, painful, awful, wonderful thing it took for you to get here (on my lap, snoring like your father) was worth it. So worth it.

You are living proof that God loves me. And I love you.