Three

is the number of years I have been blessed to be a mommy. Three years ago today, we welcomed Rylie Grace into our life and it hasn't been the same since.

I am so proud of this little girl who calls me "Mommy" and makes me crazy and keeps me busy and tired and disorganized.

I have never been happier.

More about three:

Three is the number of princesses she considers her favorites. Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, and Ariel. She told me this tonight while we were getting ready for bed.

Yes, it is safe to assume we have caught the highly contagious virus that is the Disney Princess mania.

Three is the number we count to before she receives a spanking or time out. Note: We rarely have to spank or issue time outs these days. That counting thing really works!

Three is the number of waffles she will eat at one sitting. This still astounds me. She is notoriously picky and she never eats that much of anything. But she really loves "wabbles."

Three is the number of life stages she has traveled since her birth. Infancy, toddlerhood, and presently embarking upon this new adventure into childhood.

And now allow me to wax sentimental as I bemoan the fact that my firstborn is growing up while also humbly (or not so humbly) highlighting her personality and accomplishments.

Ahem.

Where was I? Oh, yes...

Gone are the days of bottles, and blankets, and rattles. Our house is now full of Tinkerbell, and Dora, and dolls and puzzles and coloring books. We have made that transition from baby to child so seamlessly I hardly realized it happened. Tonight, as she sleeps her first sleep in her first twin size "big girl" bed, I am becoming aware that she is not a baby at all. She is not even a toddler. She is a little girl. If the last three years can pass so quickly, how fast will the next three years fly?

I can not even bear to think of it.

By the way, her adorable white, bead board crib/toddler bed has been retired to the attic, and I hate to think of it there. I remember so well how excited I was to have it all put together in her nursery with her pink and green toil bedding.

Despite the many changes over these three years, I still see Rylie as that small, helpless, sweet baby who taught me what it means to love. I hope I never lose that. I wish I could stop time and go back and cradle her newborn self for just a moment. But of course, I can't. I am so glad I cherished every moment with her in those early days.

One of my favorite parts of being a mother is having the privilege of discovering my children as they grow into their personalities. Just when I think I might have her figured out, she surprises me. Rylie can be very outgoing and vivacious, but also quiet and shy. I would definitely classify her in the "sensitive" category. But I love her sensitivity. I have never looked upon it as a flaw. I think it makes her more compassionate and at times amazingly perceptive.

Rylie is deeply devoted to her little sister. She is Sophie's most loyal defender and her fiercest competitor, often in the same breath. I love to see them play together, and sometimes I even like to see them fight and argue. Rylie is usually a pushover when it comes to Sophie.

Rylie has quite the imagination. She has recently learned to harness it for her own amusement, but I actually believe it is ingrained in her and might have been since infancy. At barely two years old, she innocently terrorized me with detailed descriptions of "ghosts" she saw in our house. She has been able to invent her own fairy stories about animals or princesses for some time now. And I love to hear her chatting to her dolls or her imaginary friends throughout the day.

At three, Rylie is on close personal terms with her entire alphabet and she knows all of her numbers. She is able to spell her name and one or two other very simple words, like "no" and "stop." Her vocabulary will blow you away, and she is the definition of "precocious." She can sometimes figure out small sums in her head or on her fingers when I ask her questions like, "If you have one apple, and I have two apples, how many apples do we have?" I can definitely see in her my love for language and narrative, rather than math and numbers, but I try not to impose my own prejudices upon her. I hope she is able to appreciate math in a way I never could.

I am always amazed by her creativity and artistry. "Crafts" are her absolute favorite thing to do. She loves to color. She loves to paint. She loves to create. I try to make an effort to find time for a crafty activity every day, and she is more focused and concentrated during that time than any other.

I lose my patience with her far too often. And I regret placing so many expectations and so much pressure on her little shoulders. Because she is such an advanced communicator, and because she has a little sister, I take her for granted. I forget that she is so young.

But every night I pray to be a better mommy to her. I pray I don't screw it up because I know I only get this one shot. I pray that I am able to help this gifted child reach her full potential, wherever the road may lead her. I pray that she will be strong and kind. I pray that she will stay healthy and be protected from harm and evil. I pray that she will look back upon her childhood and know that she was loved so much, and so well.

Happy Birthday, Rylie Grace.

Divas and Dictators

Written for East End MOPS November newsletter.

Sometimes (or more often than sometimes) my children are very, very naughty.

And sometimes (or more often than sometimes) I find myself very, very irritated with their naughtiness.

It grieves me to tell you this, New Mommy, but it will happen to you.

Though you are now overcome with adoration for that sweet smelling, milk drooling, cooing, swaddled little bundle of newborn, she will not always be so charming.

One day she will devise methods of annoyance guaranteed to push every one of your buttons...again and again.

You may think it won’t happen to you. Not your precious darling!

We all think this of our sweet babies at one time or another, especially those firstborns.

But know that even the sweetest babies have a terrible habit of becoming stubborn and volatile toddler divas and dictators, despite intensive efforts to mold them into polite and decorous little ladies and gentlemen.

I myself have a couple of divas. They are not wild, uncontrollable urchins and they are not placid, perfect dolls. But they are typical toddlers.

I once stared blissfully into the starry depths of their newborn eyes, thinking sweet, naive thoughts regarding the excellence of my offspring. Clearly I could never ever be angry with this angelic being, I thought.

I admit (shamefully) that I did indeed observe older children and smugly contemplate what their parents may have done wrong to illicit such obnoxiousness.

Now I know better. I have known better since my first child threw her first tantrum right before my astonished eyes.

The first time you observe your precious darling’s self-centered approach to problem solving, you will be very disappointed. You may even be shocked. A piece of you will be heartbroken to discover that she really is capable of such selfishness. But you will also be surprised by just how quickly you reconcile yourself to the fact that she is, in fact, all too human and prone to err, as humans are.

I know…

You secretly thought that perhaps she would be the exception.

You were wrong.

But it’s okay. We all were.