by Maria on October 21, 2009
in Goobie
You are the perfect child.
Now normally, when it comes to me doling out praise in braggadocios raves to strangers, it’s The Bella that gets most of it and you’re left with a “Oh, she’s just like me.” And you are, but that’s not what makes you perfect.
It’s that you embody everything of a child there is to love: in every one that’s ever been adored on television and in movies, in every one that’s been described as ideal in pregnancy and parenting books, every bit the sweet happy child with the balloons floating just off the ground in the paintings and sketches around the world. But also the ones we turn our noses up at during playgroups and read about as having auspicious behavior in the latest issue of Parents at the doctor’s office.
We spend all day together, every single day, and neither of us really tires of it. You’d always rather be with me than with anyone else, and I know it won’t last so I cherish it. You let me hug and kiss and love all over you, you grab my hands and face and legs at random opportunities, and I’m the only one: physical affection isn’t your thing except for when it comes to mommy. I treasure it. I’ve seen with your sister that time is fleeting. I don’t have long to appreciate all your subtleties and nuances, your blaring characteristics, and blazing personality.
You are beautiful, and you are exasperating and you are the best and worst of me concentrated down and poured into a petite and big eyed frame; a girl with the biggest dark brown eyes that can convey any mood so heavily it becomes contagious, and most beautiful hair, even first thing in the morning, with it’s shine and chestnut highlights and cascading waves that everyone envies.
I love that you run with your chin in the air, giggling without a fear of a misstep, even on the uneven gravel. That when you tire me with so much to say that I reply an exasperated “Yes? Whhaaatt?” to yet another one of your “Hey mommy, hey mommy“s, you answer “Um, I love you.” and melts me.
You are the good and the ‘bad’. The the ideal and the less than ideal. You are my frustrating, enthralling, my knows all too well too soon how to milk being the baby, baby. That calls herself “Baby” in 3rd person, strips down naked at random occasions, whom I’m lucky to have running around in underwear at least, and who’s arms are still too short to fully hug around my neck, baby.
Today you’re not a baby – officially, like we discussed - anymore. That hurts me so, but it makes me happy as well. Today you are four years old and you are so excited.
I hope you continue to be you forever. Maybe a little less like me, but still very much you: the perfect child.
I love you, forever, right now, and Happy Birthday, Goobalicious.
by Maria on September 30, 2009
in Goobie
I can’t believe she’ll be 4 years old in 3 weeks.
by Maria on August 19, 2009
in Goobie
Me: You know it’s going to be just me and you starting Monday, when Bella’s in school all day.
Goobie: Will you hold me?
Me: When Bella is in school?
Goobie: Yes.
Me: Sure.
Goobie: When I cry?
Me: Are you gonna cry?
Goobie: Yes, because I will miss her. And she will be gone a lot of hours.
Me: Yes, I will hold you.
Goobie: When we pick her up, will you drive REALLY REALLY REALLY FAST?!
Me: Yes, I’ll floor it. Every day.
Goobie: Yes. Floor it.
—————-
Listening to: John Mayer – Daughters
by Maria on August 1, 2008
in Goobie
I gave you all the wrong impression about Goobielicious yesterday. I know I did.
While she is extremely soft hearted when it comes to mommy, she’s a hard ass regarding everything else.
She is spoiled, and she is underneath me and in my arms and under my chin and wrapped up in my hair all the time, but she is no punk. Just a mama’s girl.
She’s that child that won’t cry if you take her toy; she’ll pick up another one and clunk you over the head with it. She won’t fall down and sob over her scraped knees; she’ll forcefully push the gravel out of her wounds and keep moving.
She runs after her sister screaming RAAAWWRRRRR like the Incredible Hulk just for kicks and has even mastered ‘Hulk Smash!’ complete with the foot stomp. She kisses big dogs in the face and will pick up a spider and bring it to me so that I can kill it. Nope. Not a punk at all.
I mean, sometimes, she’s just like a man…
And also, just a suggestion, but if you have kids, I think you should take that survey over there in the Savvy Source widget on my sidebar. I thought it was pretty interesting. (:
by Maria on July 31, 2008
in Goobie
Goobie cannot stand it when I’m hurt. The Bella and I play fight and it freaks her out. Their dad and I would wrestle and she’d flip her lid. I burn myself in the kitchen and she soaks her high chair with tears. It’s so fucking sweet that I can’t stand it. And I forget how sensitive she is sometimes.
My sneakers gave me blisters on the backs of my ankles during BlogHer. Them shits were hot though, you can’t deny it:
I have bandaids over the wounds. The Bella saw them and asked me what happened. As I gave the explanation of how I got hurt Goobie burst into tears. She cried inconsolably for almost 10 minutes. After she calmed down I explained to her that they don’t hurt anymore. She bought it and was ok until when I was unpacking my suitcase later on, The Bella asked me if those were the shoes that hurt me and I said yes.
Goobie cried for another 1/2 hour. Now she cries anytime she sees them, so they’re hidden in the back of my closet. Doesn’t look like I’ll be wearing them again.
[img via Jennifer's Flickr Stream]
