little black journal

Two.  TWO.  Jules up and turned two on Monday, just like that.  Where’d my squishy little baby go?  I miss her.  Luckily, I like the silly, adventurous chatterbox that’s taken her place a whole, whole lot.

We kicked off the celebrations on Sunday, with a birthday-eve donut and gifts after church with the Rusts.  Gryff still calls her “Baby Ju-Ju”.  I’m going to let him ride that wave for as long as it lasts!

Sunday afternoon, we hopped on Lightrail and made our way to Safeco Field for a Mariners Game with our buddies.

Juliette refused to sit still for more than about five seconds and spent the duration of the game running back and forth in the fortuitously empty row of seats behind us.  Despite her limited attention span, a good time was had by all!

It was run-the-bases Sunday, so we all headed down the field after the game to let the little ones go wild.  Juliette took off the minute she hit the dirt and we had to wrangle her back in, reminding her to wait her turn.

Finally, she hit first base, and she was off!  She was completely taken with the moose mascot when she spotted him from way up in our seats, but once she saw him up-close…not so much.  Pardon the chaos at the beginning, but dang, this video makes me laugh.

Made it, in record time!  So proud.

Nico, on the other hand, took the “home run stroll” to a whole new level and walked the bases.  Way to soak up the glory, kid!

Gosh, this crew.  There’s a lotta love here.

All through dinner, Jules excitedly chatted about her day, exclaiming “I run da bases, mama!  Scary moose!”

And then, somewhere between dinnertime and bathtime, all hell broke loose.  She didn’t want to get out of her highchair, and she didn’t want to get into the tub, and she didn’t want to get out of the tub, and pajama time was a fight, and heading upstairs was a fight, and toothbrushing was a fight…she was yelling and hitting and at 7:15 we plopped in her crib, said a very exasperated “I love you.  GOOD NIGHT.”, and walked out as she screamed bloody murder.  I don’t know if she was crashing from that donut, or if the day had plum tuckered her out, or if she wanted to get a jump-start on the terrible twos, but ho-ly crap.  Total monster.

Monday, Juliette’s actual birthday, was a work/daycare day, but I made her favorite meal for dinner and let her swipe a couple of finger-fulls of icing off her cupcake before snatching most of it away and risking another sugar-induced meltdown.

And, praise the Lord, she was a total delight that evening.  The previous night’s drama was quickly forgiven.

When I asked Juliette old she was, she proudly shouted “TWO!”, but she has the damnedest time holding up two fingers, so this photo will have to suffice.

We resolved to get her just one gift this year let her tear into her new easel after dessert.  She was wide-eyed and open-mouthed before even understanding what was inside the box – joyful surprise comes so easily at this age!

She spent the rest of the evening scribbling away – it’s so gratifying when a child’s gift is a complete hit.  Counting on this thing to get us through some rainy winter days.

A couple of cards from the grandparents, a few more happy birthday hugs and kisses, and then we called it a wrap and tucked our two-year old into bed for the night.  Agh!  TWO.  Still letting that sink in.

Today when I heard Juliette stirring after her nap, I went up to get her and rather than reaching for me, she said, “No, mama go!” and ordered me right out of the room.  I left, a little bit hurt (and a little bit thankful for a few more minutes to myself), and headed downstairs to watch her on the monitor and see what my big girl was up to.  She rolled around in her crib for a bit, fussed with her blankets, and then stuck her finger way up her nose.  She pulled it out, inspected it, and then put that finger up in the air and yelled, “MAMA, GET MY BOOGIE!”  So I guess she still needs me, after all.  There’s comfort in that.

Happy birthday, little lady.  It’s been one heck of a year.