My Queen
Today My Queen is fourteen months old.
I have called her My Queen for almost as long as I knew she was a she; there was the brief "getting to know you" phase where I had to wrap my mind around the fact that I did indeed have a daughter, and in that fleeting time known affectionately as the "babymoon" she swiftly and irrevocably became My Queen. She has me wrapped around her little finger.
Anna is what my sister warmly and reverently said "she is just the baby your family needed right now." Our little one's temperament has been so gentle, so sweet, that the noisiness and wildness of two boys quieted a little by her coming. Her presence has made us all a little more gentle.
Because gentle, she is.
From very early on, she would fuss, and I would try to nurse her, check her diaper, pick her up, and wonder, what does she want? And when I would lay her on our very comfortable but worn couch and immediately she would stroke it and coo. She would sing to the couch. I can't think of a sweeter or funnier thing for a wee baby to do.
As she has grown, her sense of humor has emerged. Silly games and nonsense words from me or her brothers bring immediate laughter. Playing "drop the object from the highchair" elicits giggles and toothy grins when we say in concert, "uh oh."
She loves bananas and crackers and pomegranate seeds and bits of cheese ("chiss"). Bathtime is a joy to her and crawling through the snow has brought much wonder and delight to her heart -- what a mystery and a privilege to see a person discover things like snow, or a lake, for the first time.
She is not especially fond of being pulled away from the bathroom sink -- her favourite sneaky place of refuge when we forget to lock the door.
If she isn't in the mood to be stared at by strangers, she will stare blankly and with a hint of coldness, as if to say "now is not the time. I'm busy with my Mommy."
But despite that, she is a people-person. Her life is full of noise because of being the youngest and she takes great delight in watching the boys play. She is a great observer of others. As she becomes more mobile, she is also becoming a great joiner-inner of games, and a destroyer of Lego creations, much to the boys' dismay.
She took her first steps on Halloween. Eight steps across the room. And then she barely did it again except for a step here or there. This past week when my babysitters were here will I was working on finishing up some Christmas prep, she was roaming around for their sake. It was as though she was reminding us all "of course I can walk, I just choose when I want to do it."
She is learning new words. She says "baba!" for baby and Dadda and Mama. She has discovered that if she yells into the ceiling "dadda!" she will usually get a warm and delighted "hi Baby!" greeting back (Patrick's office is above the kitchen and a large heating vent separates us, allowing us to have conversations back and forth through the ceiling of the kitchen).
On her birthday we were so touched that my mother travelled from Halifax to be with us; she has been with each of her grandchildren on their first birthday so she made sure Anna wasn't the exception. My sister and her husband drove several hours to be with us, bringing their four children, too. We ate and talked and admired Anna, who hadn't been herself for much of the day due to a low fever and a poor night's sleep the night before, but brightened up in time for gift-opening.
I thought fondly about those early days of her life one year ago. They were so grace-filled, despite how challenging or tiring it all seemed. I can't imagine my life without her.
I have called her My Queen for almost as long as I knew she was a she; there was the brief "getting to know you" phase where I had to wrap my mind around the fact that I did indeed have a daughter, and in that fleeting time known affectionately as the "babymoon" she swiftly and irrevocably became My Queen. She has me wrapped around her little finger.
Anna is what my sister warmly and reverently said "she is just the baby your family needed right now." Our little one's temperament has been so gentle, so sweet, that the noisiness and wildness of two boys quieted a little by her coming. Her presence has made us all a little more gentle.
Because gentle, she is.
From very early on, she would fuss, and I would try to nurse her, check her diaper, pick her up, and wonder, what does she want? And when I would lay her on our very comfortable but worn couch and immediately she would stroke it and coo. She would sing to the couch. I can't think of a sweeter or funnier thing for a wee baby to do.
As she has grown, her sense of humor has emerged. Silly games and nonsense words from me or her brothers bring immediate laughter. Playing "drop the object from the highchair" elicits giggles and toothy grins when we say in concert, "uh oh."
She is not especially fond of being pulled away from the bathroom sink -- her favourite sneaky place of refuge when we forget to lock the door.
If she isn't in the mood to be stared at by strangers, she will stare blankly and with a hint of coldness, as if to say "now is not the time. I'm busy with my Mommy."
But despite that, she is a people-person. Her life is full of noise because of being the youngest and she takes great delight in watching the boys play. She is a great observer of others. As she becomes more mobile, she is also becoming a great joiner-inner of games, and a destroyer of Lego creations, much to the boys' dismay.
She took her first steps on Halloween. Eight steps across the room. And then she barely did it again except for a step here or there. This past week when my babysitters were here will I was working on finishing up some Christmas prep, she was roaming around for their sake. It was as though she was reminding us all "of course I can walk, I just choose when I want to do it."
She is learning new words. She says "baba!" for baby and Dadda and Mama. She has discovered that if she yells into the ceiling "dadda!" she will usually get a warm and delighted "hi Baby!" greeting back (Patrick's office is above the kitchen and a large heating vent separates us, allowing us to have conversations back and forth through the ceiling of the kitchen).
On her birthday we were so touched that my mother travelled from Halifax to be with us; she has been with each of her grandchildren on their first birthday so she made sure Anna wasn't the exception. My sister and her husband drove several hours to be with us, bringing their four children, too. We ate and talked and admired Anna, who hadn't been herself for much of the day due to a low fever and a poor night's sleep the night before, but brightened up in time for gift-opening.
I thought fondly about those early days of her life one year ago. They were so grace-filled, despite how challenging or tiring it all seemed. I can't imagine my life without her.
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