the biggest baby

I had to type littlegirlslewis.blogspot.com ALL the way into my address bar.


That's how long it has been.

I have two babies. And four kids. And a house that they all live in. I am sitting down right now because I have hit a collective threshold of Matilda-isms that I want to remember. And now that its been a week since I started this, today is her birthday! Before today, she had no idea what a birthday was or how to answer the question, "How old are you?!" but now she has had her candles lit and blown out for her and responds the inquiry of her age, "Two much." So on the nose, baby.

Matilda is a hambone. The hammiest bone we've got. Maybe it's that it's been a good gap since we've had a toddler in the house, but she cracks us up. Even when we shouldn't be laughing. We frequently say she is a little Olaiya, what with their identical appearances, but she's an Olaiya that has big sisters. That know things. Like how to get people's attention. Sass. Backtalk. Compromise. Apologize. And say magic words. 

For months Matilda has shown a depth of emotion I don't recall from my other babes. And for that matter, a height of volume not previously known. Before her many words, when she was displeased she would go to the nearest flat surface and throw her head against her arms. Her latest: when she's angry, she points at us and in her most I-mean-business voice adds "Jean Wewis" to our names. "No! Mamie Jean Wewis," or "Owaya Jean Wewis," or, my favorite, "Mama Jean Wewis." (Apparently Naomi is the most yelled at child in this house??) Her other consistent dramatic tactic: adding "evah" to the end of her sentence. As in "No sleep in crib evah!" 

On the flip side, Matilda is hands down my most readily gracious toddler. Her unprompted thank yous for water sippies, plums (I can't bring myself to call "dried plums" by any other name), or fresh pants make my heart smile. For about half her life she's been nodding. The only way she would answer affirmative. Until a couple weeks ago. I actually caught myself asking her, "Yes or no?" or saying "Say 'Yes, mama.'" and then immediately realized I never wanted to request that word again for fear of making the nodding obsolete. She's not saying "yes" but she's added "sure" to her lexicon. She uses it for questions like "Can mommy have a drink of that?" or "Matilda, do you want to open this present?" So far, for queries of history or opinion - "Matilda, did you like the boat?" or "Did you sit on Kelly's lap?" - thankfully the nod still has it. 

Last week my mom asked what she should get Matilda for her birthday."Nothing. Absolutely nothing." This child has it made. Two siblings of the same gender who have had two years short of a decade's worth of parties, Christmases and Easters? This child has the little girl toy world at her finger tips. We possess every type of 1-4" tall princess-y, pony-y, Pocket-y, critter-y figure that exists. Enough for them to deal them out like baseball cards. The big girls can each have a dollhouse/structure and still have two more for Matilda. And when she happens upon a not-being-possessed toy she looks at me and says, "Mines?" Sure baby, it can be yourS. As for anything that is being held by a sister that Matilda deems desirable, she will take it from zero to 60 in a second. But once I mention taking turns, she will give me a resigned, "Okaaay." 



Today at church a mama observed, "She seems to be doing really well with Lidia." And indeed she does. While I was pregnant with our smallest babe, I held our biggest babe at her crib side and prayed. That the baby-to-be would have favor with Matilda. Olaiya was two years and a day old when Naomi was born. And Olaiya was a super precocious first born. So she came out of the big sister gates swingin'. Singing to Naomi, wanting to hold her, etc. Matilda had absolutely no clue what was happening. She was the doted on baby. And she was four months shy of two. I wasn't ready for her not to be the baby! People told me, "Matilda is going to seem so big to you (after the baby is born)!" And I thought to myself, Dude, this is not my first rodeo. I know how big a 20 month-old is and I know how big a newborn is. And then I came home from the hospital and was back at Matilda's crib side. Holding her and singing her songs like always. And she was SO BIG. My arms and my brain were catapulted into recalibrating. And I wept. I grieved her suddenly not feeling like a baby. 

But I will never forget the first time I was alone with my two babies. Kurt and the girls were taking my folks and my grandma to the airport on their way to school less than a week after Lidia was born. I went inside and needed to get Matilda down for a nap. But Lidia was awake and needed to nurse. I sat down in the rocking chair with Lidia and pulled my displaced-for-the-first-time-ever third born up next to me. 

And she held Lidia's foot. 

The whole time we read her nap time stories with her sister nursing on mama's lap, she held Lidia's foot. 

Is one of Matilda's daily phrases a desperate, "Way down Weedla. Mama, way down Weedla."? You bet. But I will forever be grateful for that defining moment of acceptance and grace.

Matilda Dean, we love you so much. I cannot wait to see what Jesus has in store for this girl!