My daughter Lauren turned 2 last week and I found myself looking at her with that same sort of amazement — could this incredible little person really be mine? Maybe I’ve been too busy to take notice. Or maybe her birthday celebration was just what I needed to slow down and reflect on the past two years. Whatever it was, her birthday made me realize what a lucky mom I am.
For starters, my daughter has become an animal lover, so we took her to Smiling Hill Farm for her birthday. She grabbed my hand and tugged me toward the hill where a mother and baby goat sat behind a fence. “Look Mama! Look at the goats!” she giggled. The delight on her face shined from all angles.
After the goats, we visited the cows, who looked a bit miserable to me. My brother-in-law pointed out that two of them had big holes in their ears. Lauren didn’t seem to mind. She designated who was the mama, the baby and the daddy cow. She called the baby cow Will, after her brother, which in her mind, is a huge compliment.
Back at home, we celebrated with a meal of hot dogs and fries (Lauren’s favorite) and Elmo cake for dessert. Her particular approach to meals astonishes me. She didn’t want just any piece cake. It had to be Elmo’s bulbous orange nose or nothing. Her Uncle Sam obliged and performed rhinoplasty with a butter knife.
And then there were the gifts — loads of them. I was surprised to see her reaction when she opened a box that revealed a dog-themed pj set from her grandmother — complete with pink satin pants. “Wow! Pajamas!’ she said with sincere enthusiasm. And then she tossed them in the general direction of Elmo’s half-eaten nose.
Her favorite gift was a little ukulele from Uncle Sam. In addition to being an animal lover, Lauren loves music. “My guitar!” She placed it in her lap and grabbed the strings. Sam showed her how to use the pick — which she now likes to drop inside the ukulele and rattle around until it falls out.
But perhaps my favorite moment occurred after the celebration ended, when it was just Will, Ted, Lauren and I playing with the new toys on the family room floor. “Mama? Can we go to a small farm?” She pulled on her pink rubber boots and asked for her raincoat even though it was sunny outside. I looked at her. My baby. My little girl. As I squeezed her and told her I loved her, she wriggled out of my arms, saying, “Mama, let’s go.”
Jennifer Hazard lives and writes in Yarmouth.