As I write this, you are sleeping quietly after clinging on to me for about 30 minutes, because of the sound of the thunder that barely lasted 30 seconds. You fell asleep while repeating your mantra, "I'm a brave and strong girl."
Yes, at two years old, you already have a mantra. I may have asked you to repeat it every time you get scared, but it was you who first said that exact sentence to me. When you said you were afraid at the cinema, but not anymore because "I'm a brave and strong girl."
See? I remember everything.
I remember the day you were born. You were shouting and it seemed like you were demanding everybody to pay attention to you. And your Tatay and I agreed, our new girl is feisty.
I remember how you held your breath when you cry, at six months old, and your lips would turn purple it scared everyone in the room.
At one year old, you were my constant selfie buddy. At such a young age, you had such an animated face.
You were also afraid of swimming when you were a year old. But that changed a few months ago. Now you don't even want to be held when you're at the swimming pool. "I'll do it on my own," you always say. "I'll do my best," sometimes even followed by "in my own special way."
You always want to be the fierce and strong one. You don't mind being the Maui to your sister's Moana, the Branch to her Princess Poppy. If Ate is Minnie Mouse, you are fine with being Mickey.
Some people, even those close to us, may have misinterpreted how different I am with you than with your Ate. Because there were some things that I did with your sister when she was small, that I didn't do with you. Like dress her up in pink for her monthly pictures, get her to watch "Your Baby Can Read" every day, document every little thing she did growing up. Some might draw the conclusion that I favor her over you, that you're getting all the leftovers.
Don't believe that for one second, sweetheart. When you're a mom, there's no such thing as leftover love. It's always overflowing and with my whole heart. My love for you and your big sister are both equal and special.
Because you are two different individuals with different needs and personalities. You never really cared for the color pink. You love yellow. You crawled away from the laptop two minutes into the intro of Your Baby Can Read.
You're not the princess-y type. You're the adventurous one. You don't cry in a corner when you're sad. You're the type who kicks and screams, "I'm mad at you!" But you're also the type who loves getting kisses on your boo-boos and tells me, "You're my best friend," and "I'll take care of you, Mama."
And I may not be able to record every milestone you make (and sometimes I regret it because you grow up so fast), but you can bet that I remember all the important things as they are forever etched in my heart. And who has time for scrapbooking, when I'm so busy watching you like a hawk as you climbed on tables and stood on mono bloc chairs? Having scissors around you is a bad idea. Who knows what kind of accident we'll get into?
The truth is sometimes I forget how little you are. That despite your tough and feisty demeanor, you are still my little baby. But I remember all the rest about you, my strong-willed, independent little girl.
Now that your days of being our "bunso" are numbered, I'm trying to soak in as much of you as I can. To spend more time with you and play with you, especially when your sister is in school. To create moments with you, memories that we will treasure forever. And although Mom has been so tired the past few days, watching you and how much you need me gives me energy to make it through the whole day.
You will be the middle child soon, and a lot has been said and written about the woes of being a middle child. Don't worry. Tatay and I will be with you as you adjust to your new role in our growing family. And remember sweetheart, you will always be my little baby. I will love you no less, and also in my own special way.
Love, Mom
Yes, at two years old, you already have a mantra. I may have asked you to repeat it every time you get scared, but it was you who first said that exact sentence to me. When you said you were afraid at the cinema, but not anymore because "I'm a brave and strong girl."
 |
| photo by Caroline Hernandez on Unsplash |
See? I remember everything.
I remember the day you were born. You were shouting and it seemed like you were demanding everybody to pay attention to you. And your Tatay and I agreed, our new girl is feisty.
I remember how you held your breath when you cry, at six months old, and your lips would turn purple it scared everyone in the room.
At one year old, you were my constant selfie buddy. At such a young age, you had such an animated face.
You were also afraid of swimming when you were a year old. But that changed a few months ago. Now you don't even want to be held when you're at the swimming pool. "I'll do it on my own," you always say. "I'll do my best," sometimes even followed by "in my own special way."
You always want to be the fierce and strong one. You don't mind being the Maui to your sister's Moana, the Branch to her Princess Poppy. If Ate is Minnie Mouse, you are fine with being Mickey.
 | |
| Selfie buddies |
Some people, even those close to us, may have misinterpreted how different I am with you than with your Ate. Because there were some things that I did with your sister when she was small, that I didn't do with you. Like dress her up in pink for her monthly pictures, get her to watch "Your Baby Can Read" every day, document every little thing she did growing up. Some might draw the conclusion that I favor her over you, that you're getting all the leftovers.
Don't believe that for one second, sweetheart. When you're a mom, there's no such thing as leftover love. It's always overflowing and with my whole heart. My love for you and your big sister are both equal and special.
Because you are two different individuals with different needs and personalities. You never really cared for the color pink. You love yellow. You crawled away from the laptop two minutes into the intro of Your Baby Can Read.
You're not the princess-y type. You're the adventurous one. You don't cry in a corner when you're sad. You're the type who kicks and screams, "I'm mad at you!" But you're also the type who loves getting kisses on your boo-boos and tells me, "You're my best friend," and "I'll take care of you, Mama."
And I may not be able to record every milestone you make (and sometimes I regret it because you grow up so fast), but you can bet that I remember all the important things as they are forever etched in my heart. And who has time for scrapbooking, when I'm so busy watching you like a hawk as you climbed on tables and stood on mono bloc chairs? Having scissors around you is a bad idea. Who knows what kind of accident we'll get into?
The truth is sometimes I forget how little you are. That despite your tough and feisty demeanor, you are still my little baby. But I remember all the rest about you, my strong-willed, independent little girl.
Now that your days of being our "bunso" are numbered, I'm trying to soak in as much of you as I can. To spend more time with you and play with you, especially when your sister is in school. To create moments with you, memories that we will treasure forever. And although Mom has been so tired the past few days, watching you and how much you need me gives me energy to make it through the whole day.
You will be the middle child soon, and a lot has been said and written about the woes of being a middle child. Don't worry. Tatay and I will be with you as you adjust to your new role in our growing family. And remember sweetheart, you will always be my little baby. I will love you no less, and also in my own special way.
Love, Mom
