Happy Second Birthday, Jubilee!

Happy Birthday, Jubilee!

Wow! Your second birthday! As always, I find myself wondering, how can that be? But you've been acting two for months now, so it's about time your age caught up with you, really. As I look out the window on this windy day, I can hear you talking to your Dada in the playroom, demanding "READ THIS PAGE" in your new favorite volume- high. Earlier today, I couldn't resist interrupting the book I was reading to you- I had to give you a spontaneous hug and kiss, exclaiming, "It's your birthday, Jubi!" "NO, IT'S NOT!" you insisted, "I turned the page, now READ IT!"

It has been quite a year of growth for you. Finally, finally, finally you have decided nighttime is not your nemesis, and you mostly settle into sleep with the rest of us, although you still awaken several times to nurse. By Zephyr's second birthday, I had night weaned him, and I thought we would do the same with you…but then I look at your round, flushed cheeks and decide to wait another month. Or more. Yes, you are earning all the benefits associated with "But It's Our Last Baby" syndrome. Most surprising to me is that not even Zephyr is immune. Almost every day, there is something you want that you shouldn't have. Things like Sharpies, paring knives, toilet bowl cleaner. Zephyr notices you fussing and says, "Just give it to her, Mommy, she's the smallest."

Yes, Zephyr is still quite in love with you. By the time you are old enough to read these letters, it may be difficult to believe. So I'll include a list of the things he says on a daily basis:

Oh, Jubi, your nose/tummy/face/neck is so cute! I just have to come kiss it!

Jubi is my wife.

When Jubi and I grow up, we're going to move to Santa Fe. She'll nurse our children.

I can't wait for Jubi to wake up so I can kiss her! I can't resist!

You also take care of each other in numerous ways. Yesterday, for example, you managed to convince Zephyr that you were afraid of our cow-shaped humidifier. (You've had a long-standing mostly silent disdain for it, apparently.) So he pestered me to remove it from the bedroom. I asked you where I should relocate it to. "By the stove," you answered. Then, "in the bathtub." Also, Zephyr has appointed himself your personal agent of justice. If another toddler gives you grief, he lets them know it wasn't okay. You also take care of Zephyr. At the park, you bring him snacks and water. At home, you often cook for him in your play kitchen, and proudly present him with cardboard pizza slices.

You and Zephyr certainly have your fair share of sibling rivalry. A long-unnoticed toy suddenly becomes very interesting when the other sibling starts playing with it, and Zephyr gets frustrated when you have your own ideas about a project he's been working on. But mostly, you entertain each other. Yesterday you were "cooking" food for the stuffed animals, and Zephyr was delivering it to them, and they all had a nice snack, lined up, trough-style. You chase each other through the house, and jump and wrestle on the bed. Sometimes you snuggle up together on the couch, tucking yourselves under a blanket, and pretend to nap. I'm so glad you have this time together, without strict schedules and preschool. Even though it's nothing more than hanging around at home, it feels like a sacred time for our family.

You are unequivocally "Dada's Girl." You cry when I try to comb your hair if he isn't home to hold you. In the morning, Dada is often your first word upon awakening. "Run!" you demand, while standing on his shoulders. Whether he's trying to work, read, or eat, you know that if you can find his finger, you can pull him wherever you wish. At the pool last summer, you would spend an hour going down the slide with him, yelling "again!" after each descent. You are Dada's little star, and he helps you to be brave.

When I wrote your first birthday letter, I had no idea that you would be such a verbal person. You've been counting to 11 and singing your ABC's for months now. You know whole story plots, and last weekend, when Zephyr asked how much I love him, and I answered "infinity," you surprised us both by saying, "infinity's not a number." But one of the things that really impresses me about you is the way you can join in with a song. I remember that with Zephyr, if I was singing a song and he wanted to sing, he always started at the beginning. You, however, can just leap in, mid-phrase, effortlessly. (I have no idea which way is more typical, as I've never read or even talked about song-joining before.)

I sort of feel like that's how you've joined our family. Zephyr was the beginning of our lives as parents, and then you came along, adding a whole new harmony line, without missing a beat. Without you, we wouldn't have the full, rich, completeness that we cherish. Thank you for choosing us, Jubilee.

You'll never know how much I love you,

Mommy