When you ask my daughter when her birthday is, she’ll hold 3 fingers up proudly in the air and say “It’s August fuh-lurd!”
And when you ask her how old she’ll be on August 3rd, she’ll hold those three fingers up in the air again and say “FREE!”
So, today, when she woke up, I kissed her on her cheek and asked her if she knew what day it was today.
“It’s Saturday!” she said very matter of fact-ly.
“No, it’s not Saturday. It’s August third.”
Her eyes lit up and she smiled the kind of smiled from ear to ear.
“It’s August Fuh-lurd?” She said in her sweet, high pitched voice.
“Yes! It’s August 3rd! And what is August 3rd, Gabby?”
“It’s my birfday! I’m FREE!”
And we hugged while she giggled uncontrollably.
I cried, because that tiny little baby that weighed 8 pounds and 5 ounces, who took 24 hours to make her way down the birth canal and out of my pachina, that little baby who had so much hair on her head that it looked like she was sporting a bad wig, that little baby who had her daddy’s lips and her mommy’s temper. That little baby who erased every fear that I had about my ability to mother a daughter. Well, she’s not a baby anymore.
She’s a little girl.
A little girl who must carry a purse every where she goes or THE WORLD WILL COME TO AN END.
A little girl who is obsessed with all things pink and “TuTu”
A little girl who has ruined every single lipstick that I own because she has to twist them all the way up to get enough on to make her look like a “pwetty pwincess”
A little girl has discovered the “art” of talking back. “Mommy, I WILL go, can you just give me a break?”
A little girl who can count to 15 and sing her ABC’s.
A little girl who will hug me when I’m sad and ask me if she can get me a glass of water to make me feel better.
A little girl who just last week told me to relax and “save the drama for yo’ mama.”
(Trust me, she knows all about The Drama.)
A little girl who has stolen my heart in every possible way with her kind heart, her sense of humor and her understanding of the fact that Farting is Funny.
A little girl who is old enough to understand that “mommy loves her” but not quite old enough to comprehend just how deep my love for her runs and how her presence in my life has forever changed me in ways that wonderful and good.
And the same goes for her Daddy and her Big Brubbers. ALL of our lives are richer and sweeter for having her in it.
Happy Third Birthday, Gabriella Mercedes.
I love you, I needed you and you better believe that I’m keeping track of how many lipsticks you’ve destroyed and when you’re old enough to get a job, YOU OWE ME BIG TIME.
(I know, I over did it with the pictures. But, it’s her Birthday and I figured if ever there were an occasion to go all “MommyBlogger” on your ass, this was it.)
(I haven’t forgot about the BlogHer recap. This just happens to be more important. I’ll have it up sometime this weekend.)