My Sweet Ladybug...

 My sweet girl. Just thinking of her brings a smile to my face.  She is a miniature version of myself...which is both a blessing and a curse.  She was the easiest of babies. She only cried when she was hungry or needed a new diaper. She slept through the night at 2 weeks old, never got sick and developed ahead of schedule.   She held her own head up at the hospital, sat, crawled, walked, talked and teethed early. She did everything early (still does).  She also did it all on her own…so independent from the very beginning.  She didn’t need to be held to feel safe and comforted. She would fall asleep on her own just as quickly as if you were rocking her.  She would also sleep anywhere…not partial to her bed or anything like that…no special blanket, stuffed animal, pacifier or anything else was needed.  Just a clean/dry diaper and BOOM, she was asleep.  Independence was just part of her personality from the beginning…bed time, for example…bath, bottle, burp and bed…no snuggling or rocking to sleep was necessary.   We rarely had any non-parent friends babysit because all the couples that were ‘debating’ when to start a family would spend time with little-miss-easy-pants and leave thinking ‘this is so easy, we can do this’. LOL. We feared being blamed for false advertisement if their child was born less cooperative than our sweet Ladybug.

Feeding was the only exception to her easy-going attitude.  She did not and would not nurse…leaving her mother (me) feeling like a total failure from the very beginning…which was only amplified by the fact that she was our first little angel. Until our doctor (we use family medicine, so we see the same doc) told me that as long as I feed her, I’m doing my part. Thank you, doctor-man. And bottles it was. She was thrilled with this decision, apparently. And proceeded to eat, grow and develop remarkably fast! Though I know there are fantastic arguments, research and studies supporting breast milk-only diets, she is fine. She’s smart (too smart if you ask me, my hubby or her kindergarten teacher), certainly well-bonded with both my husband and I and has only been sick once in her 5 years of life. I can’t ask for much better even though she was ‘just’ a formula baby. I do get tired of the people that still continue to judge me for it, though.  However as she and her baby brother get older, I become more and more confident that not only are the decisions I make good…they are what’s right for our family…and as long as I have the best interests of our children in mind, my instincts will guide me.  Too bad I wasn’t that confident back then. I’d have just told everyone to bugger off.

She is a Daddy’s Girl and she had him wrapped around that tiny finger of hers from the moment she entered this world.  She could play him like a fiddle from the very beginning and has only become more efficient as the years have passed.  It’s adorably entertaining to watch. She is also Grampy’s girl. My parents came to visit just a couple of days after she was born and she immediately wrapped Grampy around one of her tiny little fingers. One for Daddy and one for Grampy.  She knew she’d get what she wanted from one of them.  Her birthday is in early summer and since she was a bottle baby, anybody could feed her and get up with her. Fine by me.  So, my dad (Grampy) got up with her each morning and took her outside to our comfy swing…they would swing and soak up sunshine and fresh air while she took her bottle.  When she was done, she’d sleep snuggled into the cushion next to him while he drank his coffee.  It was so sweet to watch. Well, hear about…I slept through most of those 6am feedings.  Might as well take it while you can!  It was that first day that we noticed that she was also a Grampy’s girl…and that Grampy was on the hook. She would fuss and fuss and fuss (and she had not been a fussy baby thus far) and nobody would be able to soothe her…then she would hear Grampys boots (Grampy always wears boots) on the wooden stairs and immediately calm down.   If he stopped climbing, she’s start crying again…and so on…until he made it to her room and got her from her crib. Ta-da, the one week old, black hair and blue eyed little lady had gotten Grampy to do her bidding. For the first of many, many, many times to come.

She was an even easier toddler. I know, nobody says that. But she was. No temper tantrums, no attitude problems, nothing. She learned quickly…obeyed rules…and was beyond excited when she found out that she was going to be a big sister. No jealousy, just excitement. Even now.

She is the best big sister that any sibling could ever wish to have. She adores her baby brother…and she spoils him rotten. Takes care of him, gives him her last cookie, her last bite of pizza, the last bit of her drink, the book she’s reading, the toy she’s playing with…ANYTHING he wants. It’s cute…but horrible, really.  He now thinks he’s entitled to EVERYTHING. And I am, obviously, the bad guy for not giving in to his demands…because, well, his perfectly adoring sister would let him have it (whatever ‘it’ happens to be at the time).  Though, to be fair, he adores her just as much.  He gets so angry when, on the rare occasion, she gets in trouble.  If you are the one disciplining the ‘perfect sister’, prepare to be completely ignored for the rest of the day/evening/night from him…he does not tolerate his sister getting grounded, spanked, put in time out or sent to her room. He. FREAKS. Out.

Now she is 5 years old. Going on 15 most days and 25 the rest. And when she has one of those days that she ‘acts 5’, I feel like I’m going to lose it…lose my mind, my composure, my hair, everything.  She is in kindergarten and excelling at everything.  Everything except keeping her mouth shut…I told you, she is just like me.  She wants to do everything herself…birthday parties, sleepovers, field trips, all of it. No more walking her to the door at school…’Mamma, you can just let me out of the car at the sidewalk.’  At least she still calls me Mamma. She says I don’t need to walk down the hill get her from school, either…’Mamma, if you just get out of the car at the sidewalk, my teacher will let me go since she can see you from there.’  At least she still calls me Mamma.  She reads to herself. Not just short little words here and there…the little lady can sound out 4 syllable words on her own. I thought that she was just skimming books and looking at the pictures at first.  So, I thought I’d be smart (always a bad idea around her…she can make people with doctorates feel like morons) and make her tell me about the story before she can move on to something else (a verbal book report of sorts)…turns out she can tell me every little detail. So, there. So much for that great idea. ‘Mamma, it was a funny funny book that taught me all about welcoming new friends to our class!’ At least she still calls me Mamma.

At least she still calls me Mamma. And gives me a kiss every night before bed.

~Jac