Dear Ash,
You’re 19 months old today! We’ve spent more time apart than ever before this month, but we’re managing and we’re actually doing okay.
I went back to work this month, something I hadn’t been planning on doing until I found a job that I knew I’d enjoy and so that I could eventually go on maternity leave. Originally your dad and I had decided that we were going to try to give you a brother or sister in the immediate future, but then we had a change of heart a couple of months later and so now, here we are, not in a rush for another baby and I’m still working and you’re still looking at daycare. I hope you don’t hate me.
The past couple of weeks you’ve been with friends of ours- other moms with babies that you know and like- and you’ve been having a great time. You’re falling asleep easily at nap time with stories or songs instead of nursing and have been entertaining yourself enough so that the moms aren’t ready to pull out their hair at the end of the day after having to take care of two young toddlers. There’s Laura, the mom of Georgia, and you get along better with them than you do with the other mom, Ute, and the daughter Sofia, who is a very headstrong (and physically strong) little girl who is suffering badly from the Single Child Syndrome (which you sometimes struggle with as well). You enjoy both girls, and even ask for them before I drop you off at their houses, which I take as a good sign. Both moms are glad that you take instruction well and have a lot of language skills to make things easier, because the other two children are either too young, or again, are too headstrong to really take direction well.
Speaking of your language skills, they’re exploding. This month you put two words together and then at the end of the month we’ve got three words together and the occasional four word sentence (though they’re rare right now). You know all of your colours- black, white, purple, blue, orange, yellow, pink, red, silver, and all of your shapes- square, circle, oval, triangle, rectangle, octagon, star and diamond. We’re starting to learn letters and I have taught you B, D, E, M, S, and now we’re working on A. Your father has been trying to teach you how to count for months, and now you’ll point at things for us to count, and will often say that you have “two” of something, even if you have more or less… but the concept is developing in your brain, so it’s been pretty neat to see. You’re making your dad proud by learning all the names of your dinky cars, and you know the following (and more, but I can’t remember them all, nor can I even name them when I see them): beetle, viper, convertible, hummer, mini, chevy, lambo and truck.
You’re a running dialog now, constantly blabbing about what you see, “big truck” “blue car” “running” “foot! Kick!” “singing” etc. It’s pretty much non-stop, especially if we’re in the car and you can see your favorite things (automobiles), because you let us know that you’re aware of every.damn.thing. by telling us so.
Five days out of every week I only see you for a little over an hour of the day, something that makes me cry if I think about it too much. The day-to-day stuff is much easier than I thought it would be- it was the anticipation that was killing me. One of the last days before I went to work, I took us to our favorite playground for an hour or so and a large army helicopter that flew overhead, and even though you love them, you got frightened and ran over to me and said, “mama!” and needed me to hold you as it passed. I cried so hard Ash, in the middle of that playground, because I knew I wouldn’t be there for you all the time when you needed me like I have been for your entire life. It goes beyond guilt, it’s something deeper and more innate. I am the one that should be there to help you through the tough times, not babysitters and definitely not a daycare where you’re one of ten toddlers. I know you’re happy and will continue to be happy, even when you’re in daycare, it’s just a weird thing to be away from your young child for so many hours each day.
You never fail to impress me- everything that you say and do is astounding to both your dad and I, and we just love you so much. I love learning more about your personality as you get older- especially now that you’re able to express yourself so much. I’m so sorry that I have to miss so much of your young life.
Thank you for being so happy to see me when I come to pick you up. Thank you for crawling up on the big bed and cuddling into me in the middle of the night. Thank you for not being mad or sad when I leave you in the mornings. Thank you for teaching me to be a more of a patient and loving person than I ever thought imaginable. Thank you for your blue eyes and soft pale skin and funny laugh and perfect teeth and your insane amount of beauty.
Love,
Mama
