Happy Birthday Sam(my)(antha)

When we brought Sam home from the hospital she weighed just over 5 lbs. She fit, head to buns, in the palm of my hand and no matter how small the clothes we found, nothing fit her. The premie outfit with giraffes and elephants engulfed her and, in fact, is currently being worn by one of her baby dolls. She suffered from reflux and clogged eye ducts which meant I was always cleaning up spit up or eye goop. And she had a bad case of what I referred to as "the squirms." She was a tiny, goopy thing that constantly wiggled - she actually bounced herself off the couch when she was one month old. I thought she was broken lying there on the floor, but her screaming assured me she was okay. This constant restlessness coupled with the reflux caused her to not sleep through the night until she was 8 months old. Needless to say, it wasn't all oohs and aahhs and smiles and giggles that we envision when we decide to have children. The happiness of having a new baby is lost in the misery of it but the misery is equally lost in the happiness. It's a strange time.

I'm happy to report that she eventually grew out of the reflux and clogged eye ducts but not so much the squirms. We affectionately refer to her as Monkey Girl now as she is fond of hopping from couch to ottoman to your shoulders without warning. Once there, she will announce "Monkey Girl on shoulders" in a unique, third-person-no-verbs, speaking style. She scurries up the kitchen cabinets, using the drawer knobs as a foothold similar to a rock climber wedging a toe into a crevice. It's not uncommon for me to enter a room and find her standing on the counters looking about. I'm not sure if she's taking in the view from a higher vantage point (she's still pretty little) or plotting her next move but she seems partial to the kitchen counter.

I'm equally happy to report that I have traded in cleaning up spit up to cleaning up dolls and their detritus, art supplies and her clothing. She goes through outfits hourly, the more layers the better. Yesterday she went out in leather boots, pajama bottoms that reach the middle of her shin, a turtleneck with a tank top over it and a ski hat. She called it her "special agent outfit." She's growing up quickly and now the happiness is all we feel. When I suggested that perhaps we could skip this birthday and just stay 4 years old she explained that that would be impossible since we've already mailed out the birthday party invitations. How can you argue with that? Anyway, we've agreed to put a moratorium on the rest of her birthdays (and mine) and have decided to remain 5 years old forever. Happy birthday Monkey Girl.