Being a Big Girl

At night Hannah and I lay on the recliner, she watches the stars on the ceiling and I watch her. The light from the Twilight Ladybug reflects on her porcelain skin…red…green…blue… Her eyelashes flutter with each slow blink and her wispy, baby-hair bangs sweep across her forehead. The look in her eyes is a mixture of comfort, contentment, and wonder. She’s absolutely gorgeous.

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I keep staring, amazed by how much her face has changed since she was an infant. And how pretty much everything about her has changed since she moved to the toddler room at daycare in November. There are times at home when Hannah refuses to let me be out of her sight. She will hunt me down, then insist on being on my hip or in my lap. Knowing where I am just isn’t enough. Mixed in will be moments of the fiercest independence, the most sincere amazement, and the sweetest self-praise. She’s a full-fledged toddler now and she kicks ass at it.

I’m actually stunned by how calm Hannah is when her life must be so confusing. Her family, teachers, and therapists trying to teach her to take care of herself and make decisions. Then those same adults saying variations of ‘no’ all day. Sit at the table but don’t put your feet on it. You can throw a ball but not your cup. Eat this food but don’t put that in your mouth. Be a big girl but don’t be too big too fast. It’s no wonder toddlers throw tantrums.

I don’t consider myself a patient person but I give Hannah every ounce I can. She’s navigating a world that I’m a stranger to as well. I slowly gave up on idealistic plans like no television, vegetables at every meal, Pinterest-level crafts and games every night. Now we have Sesame Street or nursery rhyme videos on almost every night, she ate vanilla pudding for dinner last Friday, and sometimes we play for an hour with just a baby wipe. It can’t be that bad when she’s learned dance moves from Sesame Street, self-feeds the pudding with a spoon, and likes to clean our floors with the wipes.

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