Memo to Emmy: 37.5 Months

Dear Ems,

If there were a quota on how many times I could say, "Emmy, I love you" I'd be WAAAAAAAAAY over my lifetime allotment already. I tell you that at least 20 times a day because you're always asking a random question or making a wry observation or answering me with some new phrase you picked up who knows where. The latest expressions in your vernacular include: "I guess." "Whatever." "Introhhhh....ducing...MOMMY! (Wherein you raise a napkin and then expect me to 'perform' something each time you lower the napkin and introduce me.)

The sass factor has grown exponentially. You didn't have a terrible twos but you have a fierce threes going on. Example: Each night you MUST tuck in every stuffed animal and Calico Critter and GOD FORBID anyone try to help you because you want to do it all by yourself so help you God.

Me: Come on Emmy, it's time for bed.

You: I'm not READY yet. *slowly picking up animals and artfully arranging them in their giant storage basket*

Me: Emmy, hurry up.

You: I AYAMMM! 

But I can't be mad because you are so anal about it that it reminds me of your dad. Como se dice "creature of habit?" Things must be completed in order and in a particular fashion. Every animal has a spot in the basket and they must be placed in sequentially and if Mommy tries to casually sneak one in, HELL WILL BE PAID.

Lambie, Froggy, Kitty, Marv, Tan Bunny, Aurora, Sara, Cooper, Olivia, Blue, and Foofa all have to be respected each and every night. Don't get me started on the ridiculous night time routines for Sister Dog, Brother Dog, Sister Monkey and Sister Hedgehog and their miniscule stuffed animals in your critter homes. I have since learned to get the process started long before I expect you to actually fall asleep.

Daddy has taught you to sound out some 3 letter words with your bath tub letters. It's pretty exciting. It's also exciting that at least someone is using that jetted tub every other night.

White Grandma says your dad had a piercing whine that sliced right through her. Looks like that gene was successfully passed on to you. Every now and then you get caught in a mindless cycle of "Mommy mommy mommyyyyyyyyyy" or Daddy daddy dadddddddyyyyyyyyyyy" just because you're bored and you think one or both of your parents should respond to your repeated, high pitched, whining of our names. And your tendency to repeat your requests 8 thousand times if you are not being acknowledged or if I can't drop everything and play picnic in your room. #toddlerscanbeannoying #duh

Everyone's been asking how you're doing with Dessy. Amazeballs would be the correct answer. At first you were pretty ambivalent; she really made very little impact on your day to day operations. But now when she cries, we will glance up and see a small toy playing music by her face or a balloon floating above her head. You drop off little things to soothe her, and then scoot off to watch her reaction. It's so sweet seeing your new responsible 'Big Sis' persona emerging.

You like to give Dessy her sleeping blanket and you push her swing ever so gently when it's out of batteries. I don't know how we lucked into your angelic demeanor but it is beyond endearing. Makes me love you even more. 

It's really fun to hear you talk about Dessy, "My sister is crying." Or when we joke about how she should eat some of your gummy bear vitamins, you love to laugh and say, "NO! She only drinks MILLLLK!" 

We suggested you share a bath with Dessy and your first reaction was to get a little teary and say, "But she can have her bath before me." But then you steeled yourself and when we asked again if you wanted to do a sister bath, you said, "OK." I think that sums it up. You are just a thoughtful and kind and gentle little person who impresses us and surprises us every day. 

We love you little punkin.

Your grateful Mama Panda and Papa Panda 

Memo to Emmy: 36 Months

Holy Camole Guacamole Emmy!

That's what you like to say when things just blow your mind. And that's what I think about you turning 3 years old today. You are a beacon of happiness and light in our lives. You're growing like a turnip. If a turnip were a fast growing, talkative, questioning, twirling, sweet dervish of a vegetable child.

So many milestones in the last two months: you moved into a new room in a new house, became a big sister, and started preschool.

Oh, and you also got three staples put into and taken out of your head because I, The World's Worst Mommy, was getting you into the big new shiny shower and I, The World's Worst Mommy, allowed you to slip and fall backwards. Never have we heard you say, "But I just want to go to bed," until that night when Daddy had to take you to the ER.

You were so brave and so strong and you soldiered right through it. I cried harder than you did. How I wish I could've taken those staples right in the eyeball instead. But, just like everything else, you weathered the whole thing like a champ, and your staples came out clean. Thank you ER physician's assistant.

I hope that if you ever decide to shave your head, you will think that inch long scar is evidence of your street cred. Or you can just tell everyone how you managed to grow up despite being raised by The World's Worst Mommy. I'm working on getting that trademarked. Because I need some sort of mega millions idea so that I leave you a giant empire to make up for being The World's Worst Mommy. But first I better get that estate plan drawn up.

Talk about a model big sister. Now that you've amassed no fewer than 4 different "Big Sis" T-shirts, you've taken on your new role with gusto. And by that I mean, you are not jealous of Dessy at all, but you also mostly ignore her unless she's crying, at which time you will often say, "Maybe it's her diaper!" You are very helpful with retrieving wipes, diapers, Kleenex, anything within your line of sight that we request. You will kiss Dessy or wish her good night or do anything we ask for your little sis, but you're otherwise content to walk by and simply observe that "She's awake, Mommy, she's awake!" Introducing this new babycake has not messed with your mojo one bit. You are as sweet as ever. It's like Dessy is a new chihuahua in the house, cute, but irrelevant to your well being. I am totally OK with that Emmy. I know things will be very different in a few years so I will savor this period of sweetness bordering on indifference.

White Grandma, Daddy and I all separately came up with this adjective to describe you: stoic. You're the Joan of Arc of 3 year olds. Nothing fazes you and you take every transition and head wound in stride. I don't know where you get it but you are such a baller. I want to be on your team when you grow up. 

One of my favorite parts of you going to preschool is coming early to pick you up. While the veteran moms and dads chit chat, I spy through the window to see you interact with your teachers and classmates. You love to pipe up during reading time and you're never too far from a teacher during the pilgrimage from the playground back to class. But it's super cute when we see you go up to another kid and ask the questions Daddy suggested. Emmy: "What's your name?" Kid: *mumbles her name* Emmy: "What's your favorite color?" Kid: "Blue." Followed by: Silence from Emmy and Kid. Conversation: Over.

It took 5 classes before you came home and announced, "I didn't cry today!" But it's still a delicate balance for you. The teachers say you are very good at "gathering yourself" after an emotional moment. Sometimes something happens during that 2 and a half hours at school that still prompts some tears. Like when you were practicing for the big singing event with your class. There's a part of the song that goes, "The daddies on the bus say 'I love you, I love you, I love you.'" Well, that reminded you of your favorite person in the whole world, and you burst into tears. When the school director told me that, I almost burst into tears. You and your Papa Bear have such a special bond and I know he will never let you down. 

Funny enough, that reminds me of what you love to say right now when you don't know what to say. You say, "I love you." It's like your little placeholder for when you don't have the answer or we ask you something and you're unsure how to respond. You say, "I love you. I...love you! But. I love you." It's another Emmyism that your dad and I have incorporated into our vernacular. So when I've accidentally misplaced Daddy's phone and he's trying to go to work and he can't find it and asks me where it is, I say, "But. I...love you." 

You are getting really good at counting past 20 into the 30's and 40's and 50's, but when you really want to express huge quantities of things, you say, "Is it 2 hundred T-Rex million?" Because T-Rex units are obviously a LOT. 

So Emmy, Happy 3rd Birthday.

We love you 68 zillion T-Rex hundred thousand billions.

Papa Bear and Mama Bear

Memo to Emmy: 33 + 34 Months

Emmys!

You're about to become a big sister. And I mean, ABOUT. Babius is due in 3 days from this post. You keep saying, "She's gonna POP OUT!" It makes me laugh and cringe at the same time because I know what's coming and it's not going to be quite like your morning waffle coming out of the toaster. 

I jotted down a few of the top quotes you've uttered over the past couple months.  

1. "My toes have more flavor," while lying in our bed after walking to our room one morning and offering your foot to Tofu for some free licks.

2. "Are you frustrated?" You asked me as I was cleaning up the water you spilled after I told you to quit messing around with your water cup.

3. "I'm just pretending." That's my favorite thing that you frequently say. Because you are totally NOT pretending. You are DOING whatever it is you're doing until we catch you and say, "Hey Emmy, don't do that." To which you will say, "I'm just pretending." Example: you smack Daddy in the head with your magic wand and he's like, "Ow! Emmy, don't hit Daddy with your magic wand. That hurts!" You: "I'm just pretending."

4. "Are you happy?" Whenever you do something we ask you 18 times to do, like pick up a sock off the floor. You'll do it and then say, "Are you happy?"

5. "All by myself!" Thats' your response to my question of "How did you know that?" You love to take credit for your vast deep pools of knowledge. 

6. "Actually." I don't know who you gets this from, but it's very valley toddler.

7. "I love my family." The unprompted declarations of family dedication are new and never get old.  

8. "Um uh Mommy? Um uh Daddy?" We don't know who this hesitant toddler is.

9. "It's cold as a mother." Totally my fault. I am so, so lucky this is the only phrase you chose to repeat. 

You have learned how to write your name fairly well now. Your dad taught you to go up the mountain, down the mountain, up the mountain, and back down the mountain to make the two M's. Your Y's are a little funky but the E's are perfect.

He's already turning you into a mathlete, too.

You put your cousin Jason on a pedestal and consider him your best friend, even though you wouldn't let him sleep in your full size giant bed for your first sleepover. Your rationale: "But he can sleep on the floor."

You're now "almost three" instead of "two and half" when strangers ask your age. 

I can't wait to see you in action as a big sister. You already insisted I not Goodwill some of your toys because you want to "save them for Babius." That type of clever thinking is going to keep us on our toes for a long time. You seem to understand that babies mostly poop, pee, and cry and that Babius won't be any different. You're down with helping us get diapers and soothing the baby and making sure she knows how to draw. All critical in the first few months of life.  

I feel like we won the kid lottery with you--you slept through the night so quickly, you ate well, you traveled well, you were so good with routines and you came out healthy and perfect. All I ask is that Babius is healthy too. And not a total terrorist baby. Our Nguyening streak is bound to come to an end at some point. 

Just teach your sister to sleep. Early and often.

We love you Big Girl. 

Memo to Emmy: 31 + 32 Months

Emmy Emmy Emmy:

You're going to be the greatest big sister. I can already tell. Sure you still have your emotional moments and stubborn spells, but I don't think we could have a better role model in a big sis. You're so sweet, you listen to what we ask you to do, and you are generally a funny, entertaining, and smart cookie.

Who loves cookies, sweets, chips, and basically all the junk food that Mommy likes. At least you got something from me.

You're changing so fast that things you did at the beginning of the last month are now obsolete. One of my favorites: at the end of a meal, you'd say, "I'm fookier and fookier." We interpreted that to mean: "I'm full of food and ready to be excused." It was so funny because we had no idea where you got it until you finally said it was something Zobomafoo said sometimes. Not sure if that's true but fookier and fookier is now part of our permanent vernacular.

Anytime we are exasperated with you because you're not responding or doing something after our 3rd or 4th request (imagine a toddler not listening to her parents, gasp!), you'll eventually respond, do it, and then say, "Are you happy?" in the nicest, most sincere voice. It is just so sweet because you really mean it and you're not being sarcastic. Fast forward 10 years and your "Are you happy?" will probably take a much different tone. I'm enjoying this while it lasts.

Your favorite game is "CHASE!" wherein you want to be the chaser, never the chasee. And your favorite time to play is right after dinner, when your prego mom least wants to run around in circles.

And if we are playing a stationary game, you are very specific, "You stay right here. Don't move. *door closes, door opens* "You stay here. Don't go anywhere, all right Mommy? Stay on the bed." (Because our games involve me lounging around) You repeat that at least 2 times before you go off to get whatever it is you need to continue the game. 

There's a necklace your dad made you at Sophie's 5th birthday that you are now diligent about wearing, every day. You come into our room first thing in the morning and you've already gotten your little beaded Emmy necklace on, ready to accessorize your way into the day. The latest addition to the jewelry cabinet are these little plastic stickers that work as faux earrings. We didn't do the Asian thing and get your ears pierced at 2 months old. I'm kind of wishing we did because you wouldn't have remembered the pain. And doesn't every parent want to spare their kids as much pain as possible?

"You stay with me a little bit." You usually only say this to me when it's my turn to read at night. After we read our routine three books, you like to turn to me, wrap your little hands around my neck and say that with a smile that no Mommy could refuse. So we snuggle for a little bit and review the day and then I turn out the lights.

No matter how many times we tell you to stay in bed, don't get out, STAY IN BED, you have to get out at least once. Every. Single. Night. No matter how exhausted you are, you have to get up after we tuck you in, and we hear you knocking on your door. From the inside. Then comes the "Mommy!" or "Daddy!" followed by "Mommmmmmy!" or "Daddddddddy!" followed by more knocking, until one of us goes back in and tells you to go back to bed in our sternest voices. If you're feeling frisky or you napped, this happens 4-5 times. It's like your one daily act of defiance. #slightlyannoyingbuticandeal

You're remarkably sensitive. One time, you poked your finger through a small hole in our cheap Ikea paper lamp and ripped it a little more. We both said, "Oh no Emmy! Be careful," and suddenly you got a little frowny mouth and you burrowed your face into the blankets and started bawling. It was heartbreaking! Sensitive Sally over here.

We much prefer the laughing to the crying. You are the master of quizzing us. Probably payback for the last 32 months of your life with Daddy. You'll ask "How many fingers is this?" And when we answer correctly, you say "Good good good." You love to have us repeat after you, often in fragments of words. You: "Say, Win." Us: "Win." You: "Ter." Us: "Ter." You: "Winter." Us: "Winter." You: *Big smile*

"Ahhhhhhh, grandma." Asian Grandma loves your long sighs. You're just so world-wise at the ripe age of 2.5

Your L's and TH sounds are not quite there. When we ask you what you're up to, you like to say "Nuffing!" Even when we know it's something.

But at a baby shower just this weekend, you were such a polite princess. Silent. For the first 90 minutes, I barely knew you were there. You just parked yourself in front of a dollhouse and two containers of mini dolls and animals and did your thing. Other guests kept asking if you normally played by yourself because you were SO QUIET. It was impressive. I brought you in for some cake and fruit and onesie decorating but other than that, you were unREAL. 

We love you tons Baby Kitty. I hope you can't spoil a kid but telling them you love them 87 times a day. Thanks for making it so easy for me to look forward to your baby sister. 

Love,

Mom and Dad

Memo to Emmy: 30 Months

Dear Emmys,

See how these are getting spaced further and further apart?

That's because of the time it's taking me to dye my roots from gray to black because you are now officially "Daddy's Little Girl." That phrase was invented for you. I'm OK with the whole, "Where's Daddy?" when I come in to say good morning and rescue you from the crib. It only stings a little now.

But it's not fun being on the other side of the looking glass. You were Mommy's BFF from age 0 to 2. Now it's Papa Bear and Baby Bear 24/7. With a few, "I love you too Mama Bear"'s thrown in. It's so crazy even the punctuation doesn't know what to do. 

Even though your love for me has waned a bit, mine for you is waxing large and in charge. You talk so much now. From the moment you wake up and hop out of your big girl bed, we hear the open and shut of the underwear drawer, the loud BANG when you open your ghetto rental bedroom door, and then into our room with a, "Good Morning! I have my underweaaaar!" That's the same way Daddy used to wake up in college!

I asked you what you wanted to be when you grow up, a doctor? No. A veterinarian? No. A garbage truck driver? No. An animal trainer? No. Finally I asked the open ended question you were waiting for, "Well then Emmy, what DO you want to be when you grow up?" And you said, "A bear!"

We don't have a clue where your obsession with bears began, or where it will end, but it came at the expense of Ming Ming, whom you used to identify yourself with. I was Linnie, Daddy was Tuck, and you were Ming Ming from the Wonder Pets. But now it's the bear family and anytime we call you a crazy kitty or a silly goose or a Scooby Doo, you either say, "I'm not a _____, I'm a bear!" Or you say, "I'm Emmy!" Like clockwork. 

Ever since you got into your big girl bed, some of my favorite times with you are at night, lying next to you reading you a minimum of three books. Your little soft face looking up at the books and pointing out everything that's happening and running a side commentary. I love your little profile and nomming on your sweet cheeks.

Another big surprise--just how social you've become. You'll say anything we ask you to, to anyone. And when you're feeling especially magnanimous, you'll just introduce your stuffed animals to strangers at the mall, "Hiii. This is Rory! My lion!" We took you to the Moon Festival and when it was time for the kids parade on stage, you marched up there, waved at the crowds below, and even danced over to your dad on the sidelines. If only he had pushed the "stop" button instead of the "pause" button, I would have the World's Cutest Dancing Toddler video on my blob right now.

Still, you don't seem to recognize the fact you are a kid. When other kids get too close or do kid things, you look upon them the same way we observe animals in the wild. With caution, at a respectful distance. Part time pre-school is in your future, if only to help you separate yourself from the Safety Triangle that is your dada, mama, and Asian Grandma. 

You seem to be OK with the idea of a little brother or sister, and you've named the baby "Babius." It's part baby, part Prius. Or part baby, part genius. 

Baby Bear, we love you and your imagination, your humorous fake laughs, your ability to sing Rihanna songs, your big squeezy hugs wherein you use your arms and your legs to hold on, your un-ending questions about street signs when we're driving, "What that sign say? Why?"

You're full of surprises and almost able to hold your own in a conversation. What more could I want in my firstborn? (Perfect SAT scores and a scholarship to a top tier college, that's all.)

TIME magazine says all parents have a favorite, so I'll just admit it now. Emmy, you're mine. Babius, you have some catching up to do. But don't worry, I don't expect anything fun from you in the first 6 months.

Love,

Mama Bear