How am I supposed to do this?

In 3 months I'm going to be a mom of two.  I feel like I haven't even gotten the hang of one yet.

In my head, I know that's not fair.  My sweet, precious big girl is doing great.  She is developmentally right on track, she is kind, she is funny.  I know that I must be getting it right, that I am not failing her, that we are doing just fine.

But that's not how it feels in my heart.

Almost every day lately, I feel overwhelmed.  I feel like I can't handle her.  Everything seems Big and Important.  Everything is a crisis.

We watch a lot of TV.  A really lot.  We still take swim lessons, we still go to playgroups, we still read books.  But I don't know how to play with her.  When I'm alone with her and there's nothing planned to do, I panic a little.  I don't know how to possibly fill the time.  I lose my patience quickly.  I cry more than I'd like to.

And in the back of my head, there's always a voice that says, "If you can't even handle this, how are you ever going to survive with two?"

When there are two small people I don't know what to do with.  When I haven't had any sleep and still have to chase BG around and stop her from scaling everything.  When the three of us are stuck in the house all winter staring at each other, and I'm the one who's expected to know what to do.

People say that once you have two, you should expect to be in survival mode for a while.  But I kind of feel like I'm already in survival mode, so where do I go from here?

Two

I can't believe we're here already.  And yet, I feel like this is the place we've been forever.

My sweet Baby Girl, if I can even still call you that, you are going to be two tomorrow.  Two years ago, I was putting my hand to my stomach and asking you to please come meet me, wondering who you were going to be.

Now I know.

Today, you call me mommy.  You say "Oh yeah!" when I make you dinner and "Oh noooo!" when you drop something on the floor. You say letters by name when you see them, and you know that lions roar.  You can climb on anything in the whole house, and you have no fear of the tallest slide at the playground.  You give the best hugs, and you give them generously, just like mama.

Sometimes I look at you and I see a caricature of myself.  I mean, I know I'm a hugger, but I don't go so far as to hug the coffee table . . . do I?  You put your sunglasses in your purse before climbing on your ride-on car and saying "byebye!" and I shake my head, wondering if that's what I look like to you.  You feel your feelings so strongly, both the highs and the lows.

But you aren't me.  You are you, your own brave, social, goofy self.  You know what you want and how to get it.  You love to be around other people, and you know how to make all of them love you.

There are days when I'm not sure what do do with you in all your spiritedness, but there are no days when I know what I'd do without you.

Happy birthday, my sweetest big girl.  Thank you for coming into our lives, and thank you for being exactly who you are.