My Almost Birthday Girl

My Lucy.

On Monday, you are turning three. Three years ago, I was baking Halloween cupcakes and waiting for my water to break. The time has gone by so fast! It seems like yesterday when you were eating at the "all you can eat boobie buffet" and nursing 24-7.  Now, you are tall, and so thin that I wonder how you got in this family! You are very, very Irish, and I see my grandmother in you every day. When you are angry with me, and furrow your brow- you are channeling Me-Ma. 

You are Irish with your storytelling skills. You are constantly making up stories, and love to show me an imaginary boo boo on your knee and tell me about the huge crab that took a bite out of your knee. (he lives in the backyard). Yesterday you were dressed up in your princess dress, sitting on the floor, telling me how you're going to a wedding and meeting your friend named Shampoo, and her sister Conditioner. We giggled about this the whole afternoon.

You are dramatic. When you don't get your way, you scream. A lot. At the top of your lungs. You are mostly easy going, mostly a good listener. But when the wind blows a certain way, you show your stubborness that is stronger, and more definite than anything I have every seen. No one, and I mean no one can change your mind. About what to wear. About when to go. About what to say. It's awe inspiring and scary at the same time. 

You are in a hurry to grow up. You constantly tell me you are turning "four" and it makes me think you want to skip over all of this three business. You had a big year. You kicked the diaper habit over spring break. You learned to ride a trike, and quickly moved on to your sister's bike. You moved. You got a dog. You got your own room that you got to pick out the paint colors for (pink stripes, of course). Your vocabulary has skyrocketed. 

But through it all, I still see glimpses of that delicious little baby I held three years ago. The other night, your Aunt Sheri snuck you an extra taste of frosting. You held the spoon in your hand, licked the frosting and with what can only be described as rapture- closed your eyes and savored every bite. 

You are still shy. You still won't answer when a stranger asks you what your name is. You have gone from being the ultimate Daddy's girl back to being my girl again. The other day, Annie grabbed my hand in the parking lot and you shooed her away and said "Hey! I was using the Mommy right now." 

You only wear dresses. You have no problem with showing the world your big girl pants when you dance. And you dance ALL the time. You love to play dress up and pretend you are going to parties. You have an impeccable fashion sense. You freely give me advice on what to wear, and are very critical of my choice in shoes. (You'll say, "Mommy! That's not a match!" And you know what? You're right). 

You can't wait to go back to Houston to see your friends. You love your dog, and he loves you. He hides under your bed every night, hoping I will forget about him and leave him to sleep in your room. It's funny, because you asked us to give you a small, white dog, and the other day you said "Mommy? Why did you get me a big, black dog when I asked you for a small, white dog?" This made us laugh.

Happy Birthday, my love. I hope three brings you the independence you crave, and I promise to patiently offer you more choices. (You can't eat dinner naked though- we have to draw the line somewhere). Your Daddy and I love you-----