My big girl. My first born. My intuitive helper. My summer baby. My fierce leader. My imaginative creative. My good natured conversationalist. My smart little cookie. My test of every nerve. My strong willed emotional roller coaster. My nurturing little mama. My future world changer. My adventurous wide-eyed explorer. My brunch buddy. My dance partner. My built-in coffee date. My muse. My side kick. My mini me.
You were the little baby who would play with my hair and hold me close now you’re the threeanger who plays pretend and holds baby dolls and “blow-dries” your hair at your little pink vanity. Everyday you tell me you’re getting "bigger and bigger and bigger and bigger” while you stretch your arm up high. But you still have those chunky thighs and cheeks. My saving grace… the last remnants of baby Darcie. I dread the day when I can’t squeeze those round cheeks under those chocolate eyes. The day when you legs stretch tall and you’re at my eye level. Right now…they're things I can still touch and feel that bring me back to the moments I thought would last so long but faded like every summer when we celebrate your birthday and turn our eyes to the fall.
Fall. The changing leaves. The vibrant colors. The cooler breeze. The pumpkins you love to pick. The bowls of chili you love to eat. My birthday. Reminders that I, too, am another year older. Time: wondrous and devious. It takes, but also gives. Gives reminders that we’re growing in tandem. Me and you. Me becoming more confident as a mother and more aware of what it takes to mother you. You more confidant in yourself and aware of what it takes to live here in this world. I ache with pride and worry as I watch you find your footing. You’re doing so well. You’re extraordinary and smart. You’re friendly and kind. On our walks you like to introduce yourself to everyone who comes along our path — even in a pandemic. “Hi, my name is Darcie James. This is my friend mama, dada, and baby sister. And I’m princess Darcie.” And don’t forget the shouting over your shoulder “I love you!” as the passerby goes on their way. You have an ease about you. Smooth. Assured. Like the sing-song way you respond to my questions with an easy-going “yeah yeah yeah” in a melodic descending tone. Like you’ve got this and you’ve not a care in the world. 
I relish your emotions — as much as they try my patience some days. I’m proud of you for learning them and leaning into them. You feel big and deep. Strong and wild. It’s a roller coaster for all of us, but we’re glad we’re on this ride with you. We’ll hold your hand and teach you how to navigate the challenges and strengths of feelings. You’re a powerful force. But also a gentle supporter. You care so much for others. Like the girl at the park you found crying and you sat with your hand on her shoulder until she stopped. Or the way you sense my emotions and ask me if I’m okay. Or the way you tell Banks to be happy when she’s crying and you pat her back even if it’s the last thing she wants you to do.
What I love about you right now:
When you sing songs about Jesus, when you make up words to your favorite book, Flora and the Flamingo, when you call watermelon “watermelon sugar” because we’ve listened to Harry Styles one too many times, when you ask for Christmas or swimming when you’re bored at home. When you ride in your jeep and pretend to go trick-or-treating in the middle of summer, when you dance to the Hamilton soundtrack and get all the words wrong but still try. When you pick up Banks and tell me “I so strong!”, when you ride rocket-ship daddy to bed at night and giggle the whole way to your bedroom.
Keep telling me you’re my big girl baby. Keep asking for Darcie dates. Keep saying your birthday is “julove twenty seven.” Keep playing pretend. Keep believing you can take on the world. You can and you will.
xoxo,
mama
Moments from her 3rd birthday party:
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