Friday, December 23, 2005

Happy Happy

To my sweetpea, mi tucci, mi nene, sugarlove, angell, angel, large child, niño, barriga, barrigon, cookie, snugs, mr. man, guille, monster, and pill. I can’t believe it’s been two years since you came to join us. Makes us wonder what we ever did without you. I remember long boring days full of book reading in bed, movies whenever, sleeping late, never sleeping, dinners out, hazy days when it seemed we did nothing (because we didn’t) eating sporadically, not cleaning, models of both inefficiencies and laziness. Because you came later, we’d already stopped the yelling, fighting, throwing objects (me,) cold indifference (him,) foul language, and insecurities that come early in marriages. We were in a period of calm before the perfect summer storm of you. Who cares about we when now there’s us?

I got so mad at that dejected man, the one who said it was sad that you were born into this world, that you didn’t ask to be. It’s been two years, I should let that go. You asked to be born, and we asked you to come. Oh, the many years we asked. Then, when we knew it would be OK if it was only him and me, two together, you decided you were ready.

“Ineedhelp,” You said this morning while trying to open your present. “Helpmehepmehepme,” You ask when you’re trying to reach the clock on the wall to tear it off. That’s my favorite. When you ask for my help to do something that is naughty. As if I am your conspirator. Something that I would for sure send you to time out for, but you need my assistance to pull off. “Hepme.” “What? Help you to throw all of the vases on the floor? Help you pour out this bag of flour? Help you push the lamp over?”

I like that the first thing you do in the morning is to run into the living room, climb on top of your toy box, and turn on the Christmas lights. You will not suffer to be in the same room as the Christmas tree without the lights lit. You say “Ciao” to everything. “Ciao plane, ciao car, ciao ciao estrellas.” When you look outside during the day you don’t say hello to the sun, you turn to me and say “La Luna está en cama ahora.” (The Moon is in bed now.) If I say a phrase enough, you repeat it back to me as one word: “notoquescareful,” and “miralasluzes.”

You make your own rules: You came almost a month early. You decided to start walking at 9.5 months. You ask for things in two languages until you get them. You’ve almost weaned. Ernie, Elmo, and Cookie Monster (who is new today) are lined up on the coffee table while you use them as cheerio plates. When you’re doing something you know you’re not supposed to, you tell yourself “NOnononono” or “Stopitstopitstopit” but do it anyway, and with extraordinary glee.

I know you want another one, someone else your size to play with, someone who shares your features and will hold the ladder while you climb it to knock down the art. I can’t promise you that. We’ll try. Maybe one day, when you’ve decided it will be OK if it’s just the three of us, another one will be ready.

In the meantime, let’s snuggle up. Let’s read your books or look at the family pictures. We can yell out the names of the people we recognize and then have another graham cracker. Maybe you can give me one of those full dental exams that you think are so hilarious. Then we will hug. Your arms will work their way from tight around my neck to straight down. Those straight arms will go to your sides and you’ll lay your head on my chest so that as much of you as possible is flat against me. Then you’ll work those arms in between your body and mine, still straight down, pressed so that they are warm and you are happy.

Today is your day (well, you and Joseph Smith’s, but you can share. You’ll be proud to share someday.) I love that the darkest day of the year brought the light of our lives. Happy Birthday!


Bek said...

Carina--that was so sweet.

Love the pictures of the little man when he was wee.

Kiki said...

"notoquescareful" That is so cute. When I have children, I want little franglais-speaking monsters.

~j. said...

That's very sweet, Carina. As is your li'l prince.

BowlerGirl said...

You made me shed a tear at work! I remember the day that your sweet little boy was born too....probably with not as much love as you....but I do remember.

Happy birthday baby!

Azúcar said...

Sap that I am, I shed at tear while writing it. The witnessing employee probably thought I was crazy.

I remember you and future Mr. BowlerGirl visiting me. I was so swollen from the IV! You were there: tall and thin, making swollen short me feel oh so post partum. You were so kind to come and see me/us. MISS YOU! Wear your scarf and think of you!

Geo said...

Absolutely beautiful. Happy birthday to you all!

Rachel said...

carina---what's nicer than nice? that post....