Last weekend, Hannah turned 18 months. Rachel thought we should have a party, but was satisfied with by a rite of passage we invented for the occasion. We put sprinkles (just a dash) on Hannah’s strawberries announcing that since she is one and a half, she can have sprinkles. All weekend, Rachel kept looking at Hannah babbling away at her, and she would remark “She’s really talkin’ now.” (Now that she’s one and a half and all)
So, I’ve been thinking about Hannah this week and how to describe her at one and a half. I know I’ve called her wild woman. The truth is, she is so many things. One minute she’s gently bending her head to coo and talk to a baby. The next minute she’s off running wildly. One minute she’s sitting at the table with a bowl but pointing to the empty spot in front of me and suggesting with her gestures and a sweet “Mama?” that I should have a bowl, too. The next minute both of our bowls are being tipped over or poured into each other. One minute she’s Pebbles, speaking softly to her doll and putting it to sleep, or singing sweetly. The next minute she’s Bam-Bam, lifting up the entire (toy) changing table, carrying it across the floor, and throwing it.
When she’s not Wild Woman, Pebbles or Bam-Bam, she’s Linus, dragging around her blanket with her thumb in her mouth, taking 30 second cuddles with Mama.
I love this age so much, but at the same time of all the ages I’ve experiences so far, with both children this has been the most challenging. At two, when they are talking, at least I can say things like, “I’ll talk to you when you are finished whining,” or something boring like that. I can walk away, and they’ll know why.
When we’re having our little play sessions there are moments that I feel so in control. Like last week, when I had set up the water table set up in the courtyard and was sitting at the bistro table enjoying my coffee while she happily played. I was feeling very smug. And then the moment suddenly turned and she was digging up the dirt from the plant and putting that in the water and there was mud on her clothes. I was a little irritated but went with it. And then she started eating the dirt. And then the dirt got in her eyes and I was suddenly washing her eyes out in the kitchen sink and there was mud all over me and the floor.
Sometimes we are having a wonderful game of clean-up. “Bye-bye” we say as we put all the toys away. I turn my back to move on to the next activity, but for Hannah the game is not over. She is dumping all of the toys out again.
The truth is I am so NOT in control most of the time. Often, our wills are going entirely opposite directions. And yet, we are so entirely bonded. Sometimes it feels like we are one person–one heart. And I wonder what the lesson is here. Is God just having a little fun with me? Or is it something more. If I was in control would the sweet moments be too much–too sugary and no longer sublime? Or would they be so sublime that we would never want our toddlers to grow up? Is that it? Because as much as I struggle, I am entirely charmed by my dear one-and-a half year old. But in two years I will be saying, I’m so glad that is over. And maybe that’s the way it should be.
