Dear Emilie

I'm sitting here tonight in a silent house. Both you and your Papa are sound asleep. The only sounds are the sound of the dishwasher and the air of the video monitor that is sitting beside me.

You are snuggled so cozy in your bed. You were so tired tonight. You refused to have a nap for your Papa while I was at work today even though you were up earlier than usual this morning and needed one. You were so excited to be going over to your Great Baba's house for a couple hours this afternoon while Papa and I were at work, that you just couldn't sleep.

I'm sitting here at the computer with tears in my eyes. There are so many feelings that I want to write down, to record for you, but my thoughts are just one huge jumble. I don't know which one to record first, and how to fully articulate others. I just don't know where to start.

I think about you, and all that you do now. You are so independent, and yet such a Mama's girl all at the same time. You are so outgoing and bubbly, and yet shy and introverted as well. You are so goofy and silly and yet so serious too. Everyday you surprise us with something new that you do or say. Sometimes it's like a 13 year old is talking to us and not a toddler.

You are so grown up now. You can get dressed all on your own, and love to choose your own clothes. You are potty trained during the day, and sleep in a big girl bed. Almost all the "baby" things have left this house. Instead you have your own babies. All of their names are Baby, you won't give them a name of their own. As sad as I am to see all the baby stuff leave the house I continue to be amazed by you and the amazing person you are becoming.

You love helping me with everything I do around the house, from cooking and the laundry, to vacuuming the carpet and making the beds. You are always right by my side wanting to help. Most of the time it means that particular job will then take even longer, but I love to see how excited you get to help me do something completely mundane like moving wet socks and towels from the washing machine to the dryer.

A lot of the time as I'm watching you I pray for a pause button. I've always said that I would never wish for a stop button, but I wish some days that I could slow time just a little bit. I wish I could stay in that moment for just a little bit longer with you. I've joked with people a lot lately that time has passed so quickly, that somehow I blinked and you went from this tiny little squish in my arms to this big girl.

Tonight when I put you to bed, I put to bed a two year old. Tomorrow when you wake up, probably a little too early for me, chanting "Maaaaama, Maaaaaama" from your bed you will be a three year old.

When I go up to sleep tonight I will slowly creep into your bedroom to check on your like I do every night. I will cover you up if you have kicked off your blankets, and just stare at you resisting the urge to pick you up. Which is ironic because just hours ago I was tip toeing down the stairs praying to God you would fall asleep quickly.

Sleep tight my little one. Who knows what new adventures life has in store for us tomorrow.

Love,

Mama