Happy 3rd Birthday Clara Godfrey

Today you turned 3 years old. It’s crazy to me because on one hand you still seem so young, but on the other you’ve grown and changed so so much. These are some of my favorite memories and observations over the last 12 months

Emotions: Right around your 2nd birthday, you got polite and learned to say “no thank you”. Which was great if we were asking something like “would you like some more potatoes?”. But it was usually to reject something that wasn’t really a question like “let’s change your diaper” or “time for night-night!”. As “no thank you” frequently failed, you evolved to “no”, then “NO!” and have now settled on “NOOOOOOOO!!!!!” and a stream of tears as your standard response to any question.

We’re moving in the wrong direction here. I fear that the “terrible twos” might be hurtling towards the “theatrical threes”…

Talking: On your 2nd birthday you were babbling, but making little sense. You’d say “maah” and when we’d give you a puzzled look or guess wrong — “More? Mine?” — you’d freak out and say it again. But it’s even harder to understand because now you’re getting upset. “Monster truck? Move?” By the third or fourth try you’re balling and I’m left utterly confused and helpless, which of course makes you even more upset. A vicious cycle.

Well, you can finally say “Milk” and most of the time we understand what you’re asking for, even if we don’t always agree to your demands (see above).

You’re also forming complete sentences (“we’re going to pick up Colton!”) and telling stories (“I walked to school, and saw a doggy, and said ‘hi doggy’ and the doggy was scary and I don’t like doggies and because the doggy is scary and I saw a doggy at school and I was going to school and I was walking.”)

But the best is your singing. Your brothers come home from school with songs, or you hear them on the iPad or Alexa, and you just repeat and repeat and repeat and repeat the same single line over and over and over and over and holy hell is it annoying but oh man is it adorable. From your crib we’d hear the first line of “happy birthday to you” for 20 minutes straight while your brothers are either fast asleep or incredibly annoyed. Speaking of sleep…

Sleeping: You were an amazing sleeper. You’d wake up in the morning and just stay in your crib. Until 7:45am, 8:30am, whenever. It made mornings so simple and easy. Then we went to Utah in August. You slept in a closet, and demanded that we leave the door open. By 5 or 6am (or earlier), you’d force yourself into bed with us. And forever after, you scream whenever we close the door (or you awoke to a closed door). And you’re awake at all hours either screaming, or just coming upstairs on your own. Best case is about 6:30am, but sometimes it’s 5:30am. Or 1:30am. You can’t tell time, so anytime you’re awake you assume it’s time to join us. Which could be wonderful if you actually wanted to cuddle up and sleep. Or didn’t snore and wheeze. Or didn’t insist that Mom or I rub your back without end. But the occasional moments when you and I fall asleep cuddling are pretty great. It almost makes the hours and hours of lost sleep worth it. Almost.

We’ve also tried to get you to sleep with your brothers, but that’s been mixed at best. You and Cam can never agree on how much light, or how open/closed the door should be, or really anything else. And as mentioned, some nights you just lay awake singing and driving everyone crazy.

All that said, my favorite part of most days is the end of it — seeing all three of you sleeping peacefully in the same room. Tucking you in, kissing your head, and almost forgetting how crazy you were probably driving me just a couple hours earlier.

Sports: You’re still too young for organized sports, but you closely follow your brothers’ lead. You zoom around on your scooter, and even when you fall you pop right back up. You usually refuse to hit balls off a tee, demanding that I throw you pitches just like your brothers. It’s the ultimate target practice for me — having to hit a very specific spot at a very specific time to meet your predetermined bat swing.

You can throw (sort of), catch (sort of) and kick. I joke that you’re going to be the best athlete in the family, except that I’m not really joking. And you definitely look the part. Prove me right.

Stubbornness: You are, let’s just say, extremely particular about what you want, when you want it, where you want it, how you want it, and who you want it from. And you change you mind frequently and seemingly indiscriminately.

Me: You want tuck-tuck?

You: No blankets!

Me: Wait…are you saying “No!! Blankets!!”? Or “NO blankets!!”?

You: No blankets! Yes blankets!! Not this blanket, that blanket!!! No the other blanket that isn’t really a blanket!!!! No I want that other blanket you tried to give me the first time!!!!!! Milk!!!!!!!! In a purple sippy!!!!!!!!! No lid!!!!!!!!!!!! Pour the milk into the blanket!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No, water!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No blankets!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TUCK-TUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Me: Wha? Huh? Who?

You: AAAAHHHHAHHAHAHHAHHAHAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Me: AAAAHHHHAHHAHAHHAHHAHAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I feel like a world leader trying to negotiate with Trump. Irrational, unclear, erratic and every-changing demands, with the goal of just seeing where the line is drawn so you can step over it. Because, why the hell not.

Hopefully both you and the President will grow out of this phase sooner than later. Until then, I’ve vowed no longer to negotiate with terrorists, refusing to even discuss until you “calm down” and “stop crying”. We’re getting there, (very) slowly

Eating: You’re picky, of course. You’ll declare, with quesadilla in hand that “I don’t like cheese! I like bread!” Which is half right. You like cheese, but mainly when it’s not part of the meal (e.g., requesting some shredded cheese when I’m trying to make pizza that you subsequently won’t want to eat). Outside of snacks, your diet basically consists of milk, lemonade, bread, french fries, and avocado. And whatever Ana feeds you because for some reason you’ll eat anything she tells you to.

And your not just about what to eat, but when to eat it. Much like Colt at your age, eating is a distraction from life. You might nibble at a meal, but mostly want to get up and run around and ignore dinner. Until I take it away and you scream how hungry you are. But your favorite is snacks. You’d get so excited when the boys have baseball or football games. Not because you love to watch them play (you couldn’t care less), but because Mom would bring snacks. Chips, pretzels, granola bars, popcorn — these are the foods you live on. No wonder you’re all of about 25 pounds.

Potty Training: This is, let’s just say, a work in progress. You pretend to try, mostly so you can get some juice or wear special underwear (Peppa Pig and Hello Kitty being your favorites). But mostly you just yell “No Potty!” and shed some tears if necessary to make the point. Mom persists, but I’ve sorta just resigned to changing diapers for the rest of my life.

Fashionista: You’re incredibly particular about what you wear. And of course your mind changes constantly. It’s not uncommon for you to spend 5–10 minutes picking something out, only to change you mind while I’m still helping you put on those very clothes you just finished selecting. And the results are, let’s say, mixed. I mean, sometimes you’re elegant:

Other times, badass:

And sometimes just a bit too cutesy for mom’s tastes:

And your fashion risks don’t always pay off:

But thankfully for me, your favorite color is still purple:

Brothers: Your life (and mine, and definitely mom’s) would be simpler without your brothers, but it would be a whole lot less fun. We drag you to their baseball games, football games, soccer games. You give up naps for them. You don’t really have any activities of your own yet, so you live through them.

You even make friends with their friends. And many of those friends’ parents only have boys, so you’re kinda the daughter they’d want (or think they’d want). You have to be tough and fearless and resilient to stay in the mix with them. And you’re all those things. Tears come (especially when they reclaim their stuff you sneakily took), but you wipe them away and jump right back in.

Cam: You have two brothers, but you and Colt mostly try to stay out of each others’ way. You and Cam, on the other hand, seem to try as hard as possible to rattle each others’ cages. You’ll build a “hot tub” together with the sofa cushions. Which is great until Cam refuses to let you in. Or kicks your feet with his feet. Or looks at you funny. Then it’s that patented scream of “Caaaaaammmm!!!!” I’m not even sure who to get mad at anymore — him for messing with you, or you for over reacting. I usually just yell at everyone. As the grinch would say, the thing I hate most is ”the noise noise noise noise!”

Deep down I know you guys love each other. You need each other. You have this great bond that will hopefully last throughout your childhood and beyond.

School: You had rough first week, crying and screaming as I dropped you off. By second week you were mostly just giving a sad frown of begrudging acceptance. By the third week you were actually excited. But even from the start your teachers said you were a joy, staying busy, interacting with the other kids, and doing “jobs” like this painting one of “plate with grapes and peach”

Your favorite job is the “birthday job”. Cutting the cake, adding candles, and, well that’s pretty much it actually. But I love seeing you start to gain some independence. Doing your own activities instead of just having to tag along with your brothers.

Fear of dogs: You have this intense fear of virtually any dog. Big or small. Aggressive or asleep. From a long distance I will say “look at that nice doggy” and you’ll agree that “yeah, nice doggy”. But if the dog gets any closer, your reaction is to scream and hide behind my leg. You move as far out of the way as possible — on lawns, over rocks, through bushes, sometimes even across the street.

Mommy’s girl: You spent most of 2018 wanting daddy to do everything. Tuck you in, feed you, get you dressed, change your diaper. But in the last few months you’ve drawn much much closer to mom. You look the same, dress the same (whenever mom can find clothes as cute as yours), overreact the same (see above), make arbitrarily nonsensical demands the same (see above), and fill my heart with love the same.

Mom is that amazing combination of boss and beautiful, smart and ambitious, fun and practical. Even at three, I see all of that in you. And while I’m loving now (mostly), I’m crazy excited to see more and more of mom in you as you grow into a young girl and eventually a woman. And for you to grow out of this “terrible twos” thing. Seriously, that ends now, right?

Thank you for an incredible three years. You’re bright, rambunctious, and spirited. Your laughter is contagious, and your smile melts my heart. You’re the cause of some of my stress, but the relief to all of it. So excited to see what you have in store for year four.