I blinked, and Hannie will be two years old next month. Hannah at Almost Two: Wild, Willful, and Wonderful. She tells me at least 15 times a day to sing "Happy Buhday Hannah!" and her birthday wish is for a cat (she's not getting it), a phone (nope, not getting that either), and car-like-the-one-at-Sophia's-house (she IS getting that one). She definitely has a busier social life than I do now, it seems like every weekend someone is having a birthday party or a pool party or a playdate. She is growing up more everyday, and with every day comes a new accomplishment. Longer sentences, jumping off the diving board, riding a horse, and she can tell a story now.
We went to Touch-A-Truck last week, and while we were there, a bee landed somewhere at, near, or around her face. It did not sting her, and flew away within seconds. However Hannah being Hannah rushed over to tell me about this all too traumatic series of unfortunate events.
Hannah: MAMA!!! Hannie Bee on eye!!!
Me: Uh-oh, what happened?
Hannah: Flew Away. Sky. Airplane. Get it.
Me: Are you okay?
Hannah: No. Okay. No. Popsicle? Bye bye Bee. Go away.
Apparently the alleged bee made a big impression, because she re-told the story to Nana, Papa, the lady in the post office, and anyone else willing to lend an ear. You really do spend the first year teaching your kids to walk and talk and second year trying to get them to sit down and be quiet!
We spent some time this month in Chicago, visiting my close friend Muriel and her wonderful family. We flew first class (thanks, Stace), had great weather, the kids got along amazingly well. We visited a very cool place called Santa's Village, and I tried my first Superdawg which definitely lived up to the hype!
Muriel and I were able to log in plenty of hours on the patio doing what we do best: drinking Skinny Girl Margaritas and Girl Talk. We discussed all the important topics of the world; celebrity crushes, fashion, recipes, etc. but mostly we did what moms have been getting together to do since the beginning of time: we talked about our kids.
For the first time, we were able to really talk about our adoptions. This much I know is true: No one understands an adoptive mother like an adoptive mother. Like most adoption stories, ours were the same and yet different. The raw emotions, the anxiety over orphanage delays, the euphoria over that first smile, the indescribeable relief that comes with finally seeing th a child's real special need is simply the need to be loved by a family. Both of use worried (and still worry) about the lasting effects of those first few critical months, when our children were without stimulation, nutrition, and attention. But in our hearts we know our kids have warrior blood, and sitting on the patio, watching our girls laugh and play together and jump in the bouncy castle, it's hard to imagine our silly, sassy, smart sweethearts will be anything but perfect.
Writing this now with my daughter asleep next to me, it's hard to believe that she is the same child who was completely silent when I met her, now telling her bumblebee story to anyone who will listen. Hannah who they said might not walk. Hannah, who at 7 moths old couldn't hold her head up, and didn't smile. According to the laws of aerodynamics, the bumblebee shouldn't be able to fly. But no one told the bumblebees that. And so they fly.
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