Time Capsules

Dear Portia,

I don’t know why I decided to start this project today of all days. I have writing assignments coming out from my nostrils and should be taking advantage of the fact that you decided to sleep in the afternoon for once. That is a rare case these days. You seem to have more energy than an electric company, and never seem to have blackouts to boot. Nevertheless, something happened today that may have altered my concept of motherhood, one that I tried to realize before but never really understand before now.

Today, September 19, 2010, you are at 1 year, 3 months and 19 days. I didn’t know how babies would be before you. I always thought they’d be serene and have not a care in the world. You, on the other hand, expect to be treated like an adult. You put the rest of us pseudo-grown ups to shame with your decisiveness. Exactly why you got angry with me today in the first place. You see, today, your Papa called and for some begrudging reason, you didn’t want to talk to him. I handed you the phone three times, cajoled you into talking to him, impress him with your animal impersonations, but you wouldn’t budge. After the third time, you threw the phone so far into the corner, it turned off by itself.

Here’s what I learned about you today, daughter. When you say No, what you really mean to say is NOOOOO! Your expressiveness astounds me. I hope you never lose that. Because you see, that’s a jewel to keep in this world, although you will get in trouble for it a million times, with me especially. This world expects tact, most of the time, not truth. Nevertheless, assuming you keep on with that value for as long as both you and I interact, I realized that you may not be as accepting of my own values as I thought. So, I’m taking advantage of this project by imparting to you in writing what you may not comprehend or willingly accept verbally. Your will at this age is like Gibraltar. You don’t back down. When I lecture you, you look me straight in the eye every time. Yes, sometimes I want to shout ‘til my lungs drop at you but that’s just a for-the-moment reaction, me trying to play mommy to you as best as I could. Inside, you are the baby I always wanted. You are and will be stronger and more assured of yourself than I will ever be. So, look past my rants, will you? You are loved more than you know. As you are.

On a ticklish side note, I read you the Three Little Pigs today, one of your favorites among a huge pile of other books and DVDs and your first reaction upon looking at the cover was, Yum! Yum! Yummy!

My hopes are someday you’d read this and look at your mother with more humanity than I did with mine.

Okay. Back to work now. Please sleep longer than usual.


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