My precious flower

Having a daughter changed my life. I love my boy beyond words, however, having a girl is just different. I love playing “Dora” with her, brushing her crazy curly mop and I get so much joy from her very serious decision-making in regards to outfits and bows. Her twirling, whirling, singing-self – my little flower is growing up.  Today (Monday) is her third birthday and it seems as though it was just yesterday that she was taking her first steps.

When I first found out I was carrying a girl I cried with happiness, then dread. Honestly, my first thought was just pink and then changed to the dreaded prom dress shopping (my mother still claims she needed Valium to shop with me during my teenage years), dating, girl drama, love me one minute, hate me the next. I was worried to say the least. As her due date approached, I was distracted by the dozens of adorable outfits and little bows that only needed a single strand of hair to stay in (those came in handy).  After her difficult birth (no need to re-hash that) I brought my sweet flower home to an adoring big brother.

The siblings were so cute for the first two years and then the “mass-destroyer” (her brother’s loving words) began to emerge. If the boy built something, she knocked it down, if he was ignoring her she would scream until he had no choice but to pay attention.  She has hit, scratched, bitten and kicked her brother more times than I care to admit; she is brutal.  My sweet boy on the other hand has never lifted a hand to her; such a darling boy.  Despite the one-sided WWE match that continuously is being played out, their love for each other is too wonderful for words. They have their rare moments when they play nicely and love on one another, until the other one gets mad and tattles. It is a circus in our house, seriously.

My precious flower has grown into loving clothes, sparkles, Star Wars, fire trucks and of course her babies. She is obsessed with the “Wizard of Oz” and wears her ruby slippers with EVERYTHING, even her pajamas. Her hair is a hot mess when she wakes up, a curly, curly mop of a mess. However, it is easily tamed with some water and a little scrunching. She eats cheese; cheese and more cheese with an occasional side of yogurt and will always accept a piece of candy. She lives to play outside and sword-fights with her brother and will always alert everyone in the house when she is finished going potty. I love my sweet girl to the ends of the Earth.

She is a ballerina, princess, animal rescuer, an explorer, pretend Mommy, chef, doctor, hairstylist, Dorothy on her way home to Kansas, and a sweet but rambunctious little puppy. She is the most wonderful thing I could have ever imagined. She is mine and I am hers. Happy Birthday to my sweet, sweet girl. We love you.


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