Oh, this girl.
Although I didn't really know what to expect from my second child and a daughter, I kind of thought her infancy would be a breeze compared to Pacey's. Ha! Ha! Ha! Her birth was fairly uneventful (well, beyond the enormity of becoming a mother again) and she was perfectly developed and healthy. She had a very tight tongue-tie, however, that was corrected at two months and until this time she had a hard time eating. She also developed terrible colic shortly thereafter and was ultimately diagnosed with a milk protein allergy. Finally, around 4 months, we started her on an uber-expensive hypoallergenic formula and she stopped screaming all the time.
After such a laid-back first baby, I wasn't prepared for a little creature that was so...well, high maintenance. She was just never very happy until she was 11 months old and started walking. I think she just always wanted to be part of the action and was frustrated until she was physically able.
I also didn't expect quite the mini-Chris that Brighton has turned out to be. When I imagined a daughter, I pictured a petite, dark-eyed little girl that looked a lot more like me. Instead? She is so her father's daughter. Quite a robust baby she was, and even now although she is well proportioned and not chubby anymore, she's noticeably tall for her age. I'll be posting, at some point, some baby pictures of Chris because although he has very dark hair now, he had blond curls as a baby and the resemblance between him and Brighton is amazing.
Brighton was 15 months or so when we moved here and I started staying home full time with her. Four mornings a week when Pacey went off to school we hung out together...shopping, library time, house cleaning together, listening to tunes. It was such a welcome chance to get to know my daughter. She is such a kid of extremes. When she's happy, she just bubbles over with it. She's silly and giddy and throws her arms around me exclaiming "Mahdi, Mahdi!" (uh, yeah, that's what she calls me right now)
And when she is mad, well. Look out world. She dissolves into some of the most epic tantrums I have ever witnessed. Sometimes I get it...who wants to stop playing in order to change a wet diaper? But sometimes she flips her little lid about things like my inability to make the wind blow. Truth. She is so incredibly demanding but also loves me FIERCELY. She was always kind of a mama's girl, but at this point she wants next to nothing to do her with poor daddy who would REALLY like to have a relationship with his little girl. I feel bad for him, sure, but I tell you what...it's lovely to be adored.
And in return, I love her fiercely right back. I love her silliness, her strong nature and her love of roughhousing with her brother. I love that she will get down in the dirt and play with bugs and then later ask to wear her tutu and fairy wings. She will grow to be a strong, opinionated young woman which I can imagine will be very (very, very, very) trying at times, but I foresee lots to be proud of in her life.
I never thought I'd feel wistful about babyhood ending, but I do a bit with Brighton. I still put her to bed while Chris puts Pacey to bed and we sit in her armchair, with her water cup and her blankie. "Read book," she requests, then "bed, mama." And I lay her in her crib with her Cinderella pillow, fourteen thousand other stuffed animals and she blows me a kiss. Gone are the days of rocking her to sleep and easing out of the room without waking her. And thank god, mostly, because that could get reallllly frustrating. But interspersed more and more with her hugs and pleas to be picked up during the day are new demands: "Let go Mama." "Put down Mama." "Go 'way Mama." Sigh.