I've been on a moody black and white kick lately. I don't know what it is about them...they just seem to capture the essence of real life.
For seven years (gosh, almost 8!) I have been meaning to write letters to my children. I have started and failed continuously. Even bought a journal especially for this purpose. Who knows if I will continue with it or not, but at least they will each have one. So without further adieu, here is the first, to my dear Elise.
Oh, Lissy,
You, my dear, are spit-fire. I have to admit, I envy your carefree and wild heart, though at times I want to bang my head against the wall in frustration.
How is it that in a mere two and a half years, you have developed such a clear personality? You are stubborn, sarcastic, witty, and sweet. You know what you want and are never afraid of asking for it. No, not asking. Demanding.
I shudder to think of the years ahead, the unforgiving hormones that await you. You live on the cliff of hysteria. One misstep, and you're hurtling through the air into a raging tantrum. "Come ON!" You shout at the toys that just won't fit into your purse.
But then you come back, and you give the sweetest gestures. Elephant kisses and giraffe hugs. You are my cuddler. You would like nothing more in this world than to curl up in the rocking chair with mom, and read stories for hours on end, namely "Bye-Bye Crib." (Really, could we give it a rest?) I love our Fridays together, when brother is still at school and you get mom all to yourself.
I cannot wait to see what the future has in store for you, Little Miss. The world is your oyster.
Love for always,
Mommy
Oh, Lissy,
You, my dear, are spit-fire. I have to admit, I envy your carefree and wild heart, though at times I want to bang my head against the wall in frustration.
How is it that in a mere two and a half years, you have developed such a clear personality? You are stubborn, sarcastic, witty, and sweet. You know what you want and are never afraid of asking for it. No, not asking. Demanding.
I shudder to think of the years ahead, the unforgiving hormones that await you. You live on the cliff of hysteria. One misstep, and you're hurtling through the air into a raging tantrum. "Come ON!" You shout at the toys that just won't fit into your purse.
But then you come back, and you give the sweetest gestures. Elephant kisses and giraffe hugs. You are my cuddler. You would like nothing more in this world than to curl up in the rocking chair with mom, and read stories for hours on end, namely "Bye-Bye Crib." (Really, could we give it a rest?) I love our Fridays together, when brother is still at school and you get mom all to yourself.
I cannot wait to see what the future has in store for you, Little Miss. The world is your oyster.
Love for always,
Mommy
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