My baby Birdie is turning five... she is officially a big girl.
On the one hand it feels like "just yesterday" but then on the other... insert cliche referring to how I have felt every last bloody moment of the past five years. I love this girl, but I have to be clear here... she was NOT an easy baby. As a matter of fact, the older she gets, the happier she gets and the easier she is to be around.
You know how babies look in the mirror and then finally realize that the chubby bald thing looking back at them is them? All the books and developmental websites say that the squirts are supposed to think it's pretty grand, and grin and coo. Not Birdie. She would catch sight of herself in the mirror and get this devastated look on her face... like "The CRAP happened to me? I didn't sign up for this.... this... this BABY garbage!"
She would then turn her accusatory gaze on me. The teen years will be fun, I think.
She wasn't a sleeper. She had no time for that hud. From the very start she has been on the very lowest end of "normal" or lower, in terms of quantity of sleep needed. She is the reason I have become the Sleep Nazi. Seriously... monkey business during designated sleep time is one of the few spanking offences in this household. Ranks right up there with running out into the street or playing with knives.
Trust me; it's a matter of their physical health and my mental health that my kids get a good night sleep.
Wait... was this a birthday post or a kvetch session? I think this is why I don't write those developmental, squooshy love letters to my kids.... my love and appreciation for my kids doesn't come through.... just my "in the trenches" view.
My five year old Birdie is full of joy. She loves to laugh, and she wants to help and do what is right. She already knows that there is bad laughing and good laughing. She is careful. She is kind.
Baby Bird? I love you.