It's been so long since I last wrote you, so first I want to tell you how much I love you! You're my best friend, my playmate, and what keeps me laughing everyday. For such a small package, you pack a huge personality. You're on my mind all day, my password at work, and the beat of my heart.
Some recent Riley-isms:
As Dad was running in the rain to get to us at the Mall: "Hurry, Peter Pan!" Only a few people heard you.
"That baby is never coming out of your belly!"
To Aunt Shanna: "What rhymes with 'frustrated'?"
When I tell you to clean up your toys: "I hurt myself."
"My first Mom died." Me: "I'm the only Mom you've ever had."You: "No, my first Mom died."
Me: "Let's go home" (which for the next 10 days is Paw-Pawís). You: "I don't have a home."
When we moved from the apartment Dad took your bed apart. In the saddest voice imaginable: "My bed is broked. I have a broked bed. I'll never have a bed again." We're working on grammar.
I never realized how funny some of the things you say would be. I miss the little baby you used to be, but I so enjoy watching you grow. Your vocabulary is out of this world. You like to play word games with Dad. Dad says, "I say watermelon." Then you say, "I say chocolate." And on and on you go. You like to play the same game with colors and animals, too.
Our family has had a pretty busy year so far. The biggest story would have the be us moving out of the only home you've ever known. If you would have asked me 6 years ago if I would still be living in the apartment I would have said no. But, 6 years and 1 month it was. My best memories in that apartment involve you. That's the place we brought you home from the hospital, where you learned to crawl and walk, where you learned to eat watermelon, where you first learned to talk, where you learned to watch "girl videos" on youtube.com, and where you learned you weren't going to be an only child. Before we started packing we took a video of what the apartment looked like. I want you to remember it.
So, so many great memories in that apartment. But, we outgrew it, got tired of it, hated it. Living in a space that wasn't our own began to get old. I've always wanted a backyard for you to run and play in. I've always wanted a clothes line. We need more than one bathroom, more space. We've found a great house and it looks like everything is going to work out and we'll be in that house in a few days. Paw-Paw is letting us stay with him for a few weeks until the buying process is finished.
We've been to the house a few times. The sellers have a little girl who likes Justin Beiber. Her room is painted bright yellow and there is a Justin Beiber poster hanging on the wall. Even though it's the smallest room, you're convinced that room will be yours, as is. Justin Beiber poster and all. You don't realized that our stuff will be in the house, not theirs.
You love to talk about your new brother or sister and rub my belly. You love to talk to him/her. My earliest memories are of talking to Morgan in my mom's belly. You're going to be a great big sister. I have a feeling you will be so very proud of him/her and love to show him/her off. Speaking of him/her, I'll find out on Monday. I'm hoping for another her. I'll love a boy, but I love having a girl. Co-workers were talking today about how glad they were that they had boys; not me. I love how girly you are. (Granted, they were also talking about teen-age girls. I may feel the same way in 10 years.)
As talkative and bubbly, sometimes too-hyper, as you are with us, you're still very shy when meeting new people. You hide behind our legs and refuse to speak. Similarly, when prompted to show out a little bit, you refuse. We try to get you to say the King Chevrolet commercial since you know it by heart, but it seems like the simple fact that we ask makes you refuse. It really is funny, though.
We have to remind ourselves that you are only 3 sometimes. Even though you can communicate as well as we can most of the time, we probably expect too much out of you at times. You still have tantrums when you don't get your way, you don't offer to pick your toys up, and you would rather eat candy for dinner than something I've cooked. You are only 3, though. Just 3. And it will be another month before you are 3 1/2.
Your Dad and I try really hard to be good parents. Do I read to you everyday? Not always. Do I brush your teeth everyday? I really try to, but no, I don't. Do you get grocery-store feet? Sometimes. Do you eat a balanced meal every time we sit down to eat? No, but thank goodness for whole grain Chef Boyardee. Do I sneak out of the house in the mornings when you are still asleep so I don't have to hear you whining for me? More often than not. And then when Dad tells me you woke up crying because you didn't get "hugs and sugars" I feel really stupendous. I feel guilty about all of these things and more. I could be so much better, but sometimes I get lazy. Being pregnant and trying to be a mother isn't easy with a 3 year old. I want to take more time for you each day and be the mother I always dreamed about having.
I look at others and see how blessed I have been since you came into my world. I love you every day, every hour, every minute, every second.
Love you so, so much.
(Sorry no pictures; moving is crazy!!)