I, Gabbie–And Other Thoughts from Those Turning Two

To the lovely Miss Gabrielle,

Dearest, here is a conversation you and I had two days ago:

Me:  Gabbie, how old are you going to be on your birthday?

You:  I Gabbie!

Me:  Yes, you are, but how old will be you after your party?

You:  I have cake!

Me:  Um, yes, there will be cake, but OLD will you be on your birthday?

You:  I three.

Apparently, you see no need to mess with this turning two business, just skipping right over it.  If you could fast-forward to the part where you’re already potty-trained as well, that’d be great.  Thanks much.

In all seriousness, it seems as if the last year has absolutely flown by.  How are you two?!  How are we having actual conversations in the first place?  (Even though I often feel like we’re having two entirely different conversations simultaneously.)  A year ago, you couldn’t say “Mama.”  You couldn’t go up and down the stairs by yourself.  You couldn’t sing “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” or make awesomely hilarious chicken sounds or stand in front of the pantry, finger on chin saying “Hmmmm” while contemplating the available fruit-cup options.  Hell, less than a year ago…you were still nursing.  (Which, by the way, thank you for finally moving on with that.  It was lovely and all, but I am grateful to have all of myself back to myself, darling.)

Now you are an independent, fiesty, goofball of a girl who jabbers a mile a minute (when your sister lets you get a word in edge-wise) and tries like mad to keep up with the big kids.  It’s sometimes a little overwhelming, being you mom–seeing how far you’ve come and knowing that you’re going so much further.  Knowing that life is only going to move faster and faster.  Knowing that even though sometimes the day to day isn’t fantastic (that’s just life), if I blink, if I close my eyes for one second too long, you’ll be writing your own name, playing in your first soccer game, having your first crush, repairing your first broken heart, and running out the door before I realize what’s happened.

A few weeks ago, you were standing in the living room with your back to me, and as I watched you, I thought about how little and cute and squishable you are.  And then, in a flash, I saw you all grown up, standing with your back to me at the end of an aisle*, and while I know that this is years, possibly (hopefully) decades away, I knew then that it would seem like nothing.  It’s going to break my heart.


And I can’t wait.

Happy second birthday, Gabbie Lane.  Don’t be quite so quick to overlook two.  Please?

Love always,



*Yes, this is very stereotypical, and I have no idea why my mind jumped to that, but there you are.  Please know that we will fully support whatever decisions you make or elect not to make in that regard.  There’s no need to put on a long, white dress and stand at the end of a aisle just so I can cry while staring at your back.  You know, unless you want to…