Emma turned three yesterday and I can’t really believe it. She is my little princess and I am amazed at what a sweet little girl she is. While there is no doubt that she has a stubborn streak a mile wide, she is still the most wonderful, joyful girl I know.
She had her struggles early on, spending almost two months in Virtua Voorhees’ NICU until she was able to breathe and eat on her own. I still have dreams about the big scary room that she lived in for her first week, before moving onto the smaller, less intense rooms. I am in awe of the nurses that work in those rooms and how much caring and empathy they were able to give me and my daughter. Don’t get me started on the doctors or LaLeche freak.
Eventually she came home and got to spend some time with her brother. They are very close and Every time John gets frustrated with her, I just remind him that Emma wants to play with him because she loves him so much. They are wonderful kids.
Emma was tiny and she fought hard and I am so proud of all that she went through to be the funny, happy, tiny bundle of energy she is at three years old. Today she runs and jumps (only about an inch off the ground for all her efforts), plays with her brother, has tea parties for her baby and bunnies, and lights up my heart every time she smiles. She tells jokes she doesn’t understand and tries to pitch in her thoughts in every conversation.
Her love of the color pink and drawing are constants. She loves to read but virtually ignores TV, preferring to make a million pages of crayon work to spread through the house. Picking up after her is a non-stop job, but I do it willingly given the fun she has. Recently she has begun cleaning up her own messes and I think it’s hilarious to watch her pick up a room one item at a time.
I will admit I spoil her rotten, but who couldn’t. I let her climb into my bed on cold mornings and she gets a few too many cookies. I’m not the only one who spoils her though, as she has more shoes than her brother and I combined.
I hope I always remember her asking me hoist her up to the mirror to show her the shampoo I give her in the bath tub and the shrieks of joy that the soapy mess brings her. I know that her “Lock the door!” and “John ILLiam” shouts from the backseat are forever in my memory.
This time last year, Emma and I were able to spend an entire month together before I started at UArts. It was an important month for both of us, as it reconnected me with her and brought back many of the intense feeling I had from her first two months. It’s hard not to see her every day, but when I am missing her most I think back to that special month. I am looking forward to the same kind of experience this December for a shorter, but hopefully as fun time.