How Sweet It Is

Three and a half. Like most milestones reached, it feels like this happened in the blink of an eye. That Molly is suddenly in the latter half of her fourth year on the planet seems unbelievable yet also very, very believable when I think of how much we have done with her and how much she has done for us. My little spitfire is as fiery as ever. She still has swagger, frenetic energy, an incredibly strong will, and remains as stubborn as all get up. But three has been a big year for her in other ways and it's had its share of growing pains. She's more fearful of some things than she used to be, dogs for instance, and you can see the tug of war in her mind where she wants to walk right up to something but can't quite get herself there. She can have a very hard time trying new things if I don't stay with her but this is abating quickly and her confidence, now tinged with a little more awareness of the world, is returning. She can be very particular about who does what for her -- you might have experienced this if you've tried to get her out of her car seat -- and will give you a hairy eyeball (and a shriek or two) if you try and convince her to do it your way. She remembers everything. Everything. Every-thing. E.V.E.R.Y.T.H.I.N.G. You can not, should not, will not pull a fast one on her. Don't think for one second that if she fell asleep on the way home from somewhere and you had promised to get ice cream that she won't wake up, come into your room at 6 am and inform you that you were supposed to get ice cream on the way home so let's go now. Or that yesterday you said that it was easier to brush her hair with your fingers (when you really just couldn't find the hairbrush and you had to be out the door in thirty seconds) so what in heaven's name do you think you're doing trying to use a brush on it today. Her mind, like her mama's, is a steel trap, one that, (like her mama's) may occasionally tweak things that you say so that they better suit what she'd like to hear. She's sassy and savvy, this one. She loves to be a big girl and will tell you that she is one, especially in relation to her brother --"I don't use binkies anymore, I'm a big girl." Or "I don't wear diapers anymore, I'm a big girl. Jack is a baby so he still wears diapers at night (ed note: he actually still wears them all the time but the daytime diapers don't really relate to her anymore since she's been out them long enough that they don't register on her radar. It is, after all, all about her). She is oh so independent in the things she feels mastery over -- puzzles, "reading" (i.e. reciting from memory) books, coloring, painting, t-ball, building blocks, geography (weird, I know, but she is strangely good at it. I've learned more about US geography in the past two months than in all 33 years prior)  -- but can be hesitant to try something out in front of anybody until she is secure in her success. She's is, at the same time, still very much little. She often wakes up wanting to be held and snuggle. She nudges (or pushes) Jack out of the way for lap time and she loves being smooched. I love that she has big ideas, big plans, big personality but that there is a bit of her that still isn't ready to be in the big world full time and a piece of her still likes being our baby girl.

The love that she can bestow is epic. She will latch onto someone and it's like no one else needs to exist. That person is her best friend. Sometimes it is someone she has met once, sometimes it's someone she hasn't seen for a year, sometimes it's me or John... but if you're in the spotlight, the two of you are the center of the universe and you are the funniest, smartest, best at XYZ person around (after her, of course). You just had better not want to eat dinner without her on your lap or hanging on your arm or, at the very least, with your chairs touching. You also should not attempt to go to the bathroom or shower or wake up alone as this may be hazardous to your health according to the single white female hanging outside the door. It's a generous love, though, and the attention is sincere, which is cute. There is no posturing on her part; that it's genuine affection is helpful to remember when you have someone staring down the bathroom door.

With all that said, with all the highs of the age, three has been challenging for me to parent through at times. Two gets a lot of press for being a difficult age but I found it easier than three with her. I hear a lot of my admonishments shot right back at me -- I often am told that I'm not listening well, that I'm not being kind, that she's not interested in arguing about something. I have said to people that Jack tires me out physically each day but my little firecracker sure does make me mentally exhausted every day. I find myself flummoxed or tongue-tied or not quite sure of my approach more than I used to. As she grows and stretches and bumps up against limits and boundaries, I find it hard not to mention the rules ad nauseum or get exasperated by the same behavior that I swear we just talked about and instead keep my eye on the developmental realities of the age. I am not always successful no matter how many times I chant "firm but fair, firm but fair" as my mantra. I yell more than I'd like and now Molly preemptively asks me if I'm going bananas (it's really that obvious, I guess). I have to slow down more than I'm used to and think things through instead of acting reflexively or reactively. She is, I am, we are, as always, a work in progress.

Still, no matter how many times I have to retrieve her and my iPhone from some dark corner where she professes to be doing "nuthin'" and no matter how many times I need to remind her not to affectionately call her brother tushy penis head (especially in public, please) and no matter how many times I have my own cranky pants on, there is not a thing about her that I'd change. I will love her for always, forever, and to the moon and back. She wears many hats but she's so full of spunk and love and energy that there is no choice whether or not to embrace it all, it's a given, just as it has been for the past three and a half years.