Blog a la Cart

To my little girl,

This week, your daddy is away fly fishing in Canada.

I say this as though it is so obvious and normal, because, well, it is. Unfortunately this is a skill that you shall acquire growing up as a Cart. I just hope you enjoy days spent tucked away in the woods, with no cell service, no internet, and nothing to do but fish. and “think deep thoughts.” and play backgammon. and get devoured by mosquitoes. basically, my own personal hell. maybe you’ll inherit those fish-loving genes. For your sake, I do hope so.

This would explain why daddy went on this trip without mommy. I would rather spend a month (okay maybe just a week) in a small, windowless room with Teletubbies than be doing what daddy is doing right now. And you know how I feel about those creepy bastards.

Since Momar (The Doña of the Guest Room) and Doda are still in the house, they (code for: DODA) have been babysitting you while I’m at work. But then, in the evenings, you’re all mine, to spoil and delight and to ensure that you will be saying “Ma ma ma” with as much skill as “da da da” by the time daddy returns.

To make sure you don’t COMPLETELY forget about him, because I am such a kind and considerate Mama, we have watched videos of Daddy on our epic iMac. That way he is practically life size. Whenever you see him on screen, you absolutely light up, and quietly mumble “Da da da” with that wonderful, goofy, toothy grin spread wide across your face. You’d make a magnificent understudy for the Cheshire Cat with that smile. You even recognized your beloved blankie on screen today and immediately started clutching your chest and rocking back and forth while humming “awwwwww” as you do whenever you grab hold of your most favorite object.

And that probably sums up why this month has been the most fun ever in terms of your development. You recognize things and people. You can point out a truck or flower or doggie in your books. you can find your bellybutton and then mommy’s bellybutton, and then show me exactly where Auntie Kimmy is, and Doda, and Momar and Daddy. I can ask you to bring me something, or put something away, or close the door, or dance, and you do it. On that note, your mad dance skillz have improved remarkably. your butt bouncing is nothing short of genius. I can totes see you as the next Julia Stiles a la “Save the Last Dance.” Your rhythmic talents had everyone impressed at the wedding this weekend.

You know what you want, and how you want it.

(When describing you to my boss today I said those exact words and he said, “So, like her mother, huh?” … I think he’s on to me. Touché, bossman.)

This determined state of mind is present whether you’re going on a walk around the neighborhood collecting leaves and dandelions and pointing at every passing car exclaiming “TRUCK!” (We’re gonna work on the distinction between “truck” and “car” this month), or demanding juice and rejecting veggies, or stumbling around the slate patio sniffing flowers and throwing the tennis ball for the dogs. You bring us books, dramatically place them in our laps, and then throw your leg in the air like a Rockette until we get the memo and plop you in our laps. You roll around in Ursa and Hanna’s hairy dog beds, hamming it up like one of the pack. You brush our hair. Or dump water over your head during bathtime. Or babble completely incoherent syllables of diss and dats  and ths and mmmms until we figure out what the hay may you want. You wave and blow kisses (which is really just you clicking your tongue between your lips and then throwing your hand up to your mouth POST-“kiss.” Also something to be worked on during month 15.)

And, my most favorite, you hug. You do it to your dollies, and blankies, and stuffed animals, and musical instruments, but it is by far the best when it is directed at your family. I’ll crouch low, and spread my arms wide, and you’ll stagger over, and hesitantly but with an immense grin spread wide across your face, throw yourself into my chest.

The feeling of you actively, physically embracing me is nothing short of magic. It takes my breath away every time.

I hope that everyone gets to experience that kind of earth-shattering love and contentment at least once a lifetime.

Happy 15 months,

143 Mama