A Letter to My Girl

Dear Ally Grace,

Well, technically I wanted to write this when you turned 4.  Which was about 3 months ago.  Unfortunately, your mommy is a procrastinator, but hey….at least it's happening, right?  I just know that I can't allow myself to forget this age, because it has been SO FULL.

(Full of what, you ask? Well, mostly joy, although there has definitely been a good mixture of sass, eye-rolling, and "where did that come from?" mixed in.)

See the sass?  It's right there, front and center.

People say that with all kids, you either get the terrible twos, or the terrible threes.  And I made the rookie mistake of congratulating myself as your 4th birthday approached, as we hadn't run into either one of the "terribles."

As in, "wow, Sherri, look how EASY Ally Grace has been.  It must have a lot to do with your AMAZING PARENTING SKILLS."

Um, NO.  What's that they say about pride coming before a fall?  A-hem.

Because all the crazy came for us when you turned 4.  All of it.  And I say this in love, as one day you will understand how it's possible to insanely love your child, even while they are literally acting insane.

Pure, adorable insanity, I tell ya.

Like the time when you screamed at me that you would NEVER AGAIN LET YOUR POO POO COME OUT OF YOUR BOTTOM.  NEVER!  IN YOUR WHOLE LIFE!!

(You may have even slammed the door in my face, but I'm not sure, as I have actively tried to block that horrendous experience from my memory.)

Or any one of the times when I watched you physically morph from a sweet and obedient little girl, into a wild Tasmanian devil, complete with a language of gibberish, unintelligible to the adult ear.

Or the time that you yelled at the top of your lungs that "Daddy tooted and it smelled like chicken nuggets!"  In public.

(EW.  And I may never eat another chicken nugget again, thankyouverymuch.)

But I would never do that.  Don't you see the sweet, innocent face I'm working, here?

BUT. Then, THEN, there were the times when you grabbed my face and said "I love you mommy.  You're my favorite girl."

Or the times I watched you do "Jackson chases" with daddy, all around the house.  (Even if I did need a sedative after all the excitement.)

A superhero.  With a pink headband. This says so much about you, actually.

Or all the nights that you begged me to make up a "mean old witch story" for you.  (And then proceeded to tell me exactly what I should say.)

At least I know that I've influenced your fabulous taste in cowboy boots.

And the time that I literally cried all the way home from your school, as you sweetly sang "Whom Shall I Fear," in the backseat.

It's been so amazing to see your personality develop this year, Ally Grace.  Most people say that you look like a little "mini-me."  But I have to tell you, from a personality standpoint, you are eerily similar to your daddy, in all the best ways:  You LOVE people, and will talk to ANYONE.  You curiosity is off the charts, and you've already stumped me so many times with your questions (which is both awesome, and slightly humiliating).  According to your teachers, you love doing anything that requires "movement" and you learn best when you can use your hands.  You adore animals and anything "science-related." You are FEARLESS, and it makes my heart so happy that you are confident enough to "leap without looking."  You challenge me every day to do the same.

You already love Jesus, and tell us all the time that he is your friend. That you are "excited" about Him.  NOTHING makes us prouder than hearing that.  He is going to do great things with your  life, and I cannot WAIT to see how He uses that big personality of yours, girlfriend.

I have adored my moments with you this year, in every way possible.  Even when I was nauseous and exhausted from being pregnant, and even when I felt totally overwhelmed.  Even when I may or may not have allowed a little extra TV time, just so I could snuggle with you on the couch.  You are my little Ally Bear, my girl, my little presh.  And I know I say this to you all the time, but I think it bears repeating: I will always love you, NO MATTER WHAT.

Even when one or both of us is acting insane.

Pregnancy Journal…The End Is Near.

Wow, that sounded rash and dramatic, and totally unlike me, didn't it?

(Stop laughing.  Rude.)

I've officially made it into my 39th week, and since I can't be trusted to keep weekly pregnancy journals, let's do another little wrap up so I can accurately remember this hell and never do it again record all the joys of the dreaded third trimester.

The Third Trimester.  (a.k.a. When the *** hits the fan).

Holy Belly, Batman.
Okay, that was weird and I'm sorry.

Weight Gained:

Bahahahaha, like I'm gonna put that out on the INTERNET.  Be for real.  No. Let's all pretend it's a modest 15-20lb weight gain that will have me back in my pre pregnancy jeans in 2 weeks.


Cravings:

Anything chocolate, anything carb-ish, anything remotely bad for you.  My non-cravings on the other hand are lean proteins and veggies.

Symptoms:

Mostly the kind that would fall under the category of "oversharing."  Additionally, my heartburn has kicked itself up a notch, and it feels like there is an evil rubber band made out of hot lava constantly constricting my ribs.

Or something like that.

Fave Pregnancy Moments:

Let's see……how about the one where I started sobbing at the end of the last Twilight movie? But you know, the quiet kind of sobbing where you're hiding your face so your husband doesn't laugh at you or rudely call you out.  Except that he knows you so well, that he immediately knows you're crying and then rudely calls you out.

No?

Or maybe it was the one where I was forced to choose between tying my shoes and crushing my baby in utero.

Not that one, either?

Hmmmmm……wait, it was definitely this moment:

That actually WAS pretty fun, now that I think about it.  

How I've Been Spending My Time Lately: 

In no particular order:

Eating.  Chewing Tums.  Complaining. (That was John. Punk.)  Trying to jump, skip, or squat the baby out of me in any of my favorite places…i.e. Anthropologie, Starbucks, or Nordstrom.  Clearly, they would offer me a lifetime supply of clothes/coffee/general awesomeness for that. 

Clearly.  

Finding out that I'm actually having a baby with Vanilla Ice.

I literally can't. even.

Spending as much time with this girl as possible:

I adore her in the biggest way.

I think that pretty much sums up the third trimester in it's entirety.  I've got my hospital bag packed and ready to go, like a good little pregnant mama, so we'll see when this kid decides to make his debut.

(Which if I can make a request will be before my due date, but after I get my highlights on Thursday.  Just keeping it real.)

Until then, I'll just be skipping some laps around Starbucks.