Mommy's Birthday Letter to Jubilee

December 18, 2009

Happy Third Birthday, Jubilee!

Although technically not a baby anymore, you are still my baby girl, and I imagine you always will be. I wouldn't call you that to your face, though, as lately you are insisting you are a boy. Zephyr protested at first, but we convinced him to allow you to self-identify. I have a feeling you will be doing a lot of that through your life, and I want to encourage you to explore what others may think of as impossible.

Lately, I've been thinking about my life, and wondering how many of my decisions were made by default, and how many were actual conscious choices. Sometimes, if I find myself feeling a little down about something, and I'm not sure how to shake off the negativity, I ask myself this question: What would I want Jubilee to do? Then I imagine you as a grown woman, encountering life's trials, but facing them with the fierceness, bravery, and forgiveness I witness in you even now. When some emotional upset threatens to unsettle the adult Jubilee of my fantasy, she gratefully thanks the universe for the lessons learned, examines her soul for any unresolved issues that need closure, and then moves on with her beautiful, passionate, and fulfilling life. This is what I wish for you. And visions of you living this way already inspire me.

You, at three, are an unpredictable combination of headstrong and easygoing. We are never really sure which personality trait will arise in a given situation. For instance, you may rage if we make the unforgivable mistake of opening your car door for you (as we've done the previous hundred times without incident), but surprise us with sweet acquiescence if your brother asks you for a turn with a new and appealing toy. We can, at times, predict your reaction. For instance, this summer we went on a plane trip to Virginia. You and Zephyr have matching suitcases, their only discernable feature being the ways you and Zephyr decorated the address tags. On a layover, we were rolling one of these suitcases through the airport. The other one had been checked. You decided that it was of the upmost importance that the particular suitcase in possession was "yours," although you knew that every member of our family had items in every bag. "Is this one mine?!??!" you asked. "Well, it looks like yours," we answered, hoping you wouldn't look too carefully. It was like a slow-mo horror movie moment. You found the luggage tag, peeled back the flap to view the address card, judiciously examined it… and unleashed a terrible tirade of comic proportions. Your "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" echoed throughout the airport, causing some travelers to pick up their pace, others to give us sympathetic glances. Dada, Zephyr, and I nearly busted our guts laughing. It was one of our favorite moments of the trip, although probably not yours.

You have taken on a few interesting hobbies this year. Fashion design, for one. From time to time, you insist on having mittens, hats, and gloves taped to your pajamas to create extra pockets. You fantasize about having sufficient sewing skills one day to sew extraneous buttons on your clothing. Also, you take after your maternal grandmother, who likes to pick up beach glass. As we don't live near the beach, the glass you pick up tends to make us a little nervous sometimes. The other day you gathered up all the pieces of glass you've managed to accumulate, pieced them together like a jigsaw puzzle, and stuck them on a big piece of tape. You proceeded to use this item as a pot lid for your small kitchen. Speaking of your play kitchen, pretending to cook is something you do every single day, without fail. This might not be so surprising, but some of your ingredients are. Dada will probably never forget the day you were intently watching ducks at a park. "I want to make duck stew," you explained.

Zephyr is still one of your favorite people in the whole world, although he loves pushing your buttons. One of his favorite games it to pretend he's a wild animal that wants to eat you up. (This reminds me of my own sister, who would scare me by pretending to be a vampire.) You often screech and run in fear that may be genuine, but sometimes you just haul off and hit him. Zephyr never hits you back, but complains of the perceived injustice. One of my favorite recent exchanges between you two took place yesterday in the car. You were drinking out of a sippy cup, and it made a squeaky noise. "Did that scare you, Zephyr?" you asked, perhaps hopefully. "Of course it didn't," he replied.

Jubilee, you hold a world of potential. I am doing my best to try to help you keep it. I know I'm making mistakes, but I hope you always know that I want you to be who you are, and I'll do whatever I can to help you know who that is. I love you, and I'll never forget the way it feels when my three-year-old Jubilee comes in close for the nuzzle game- the feeling of your cheek, forehead, ear, hair, nose, and tummy skin against mine is true bliss.

Love you forever,

Mommy