A little poem for my daughter Chloe's 7th Birthday:):
I remember when we met, you were a little over two.
We'd never had a baby, we had no idea what to do!
A first you were so quiet, so guarded, so calm.
Just a scared little girl, who called every woman MOM.
You were cute as a button, our new baby girl.
I looked at Mama Née and said “Let's give it a whirl”.
Your cheeks were so full, your belly so round.
Because you'd eat full tubs of butter, if no one was around!
I cleaned up your urine and stool from the floor.
We bought so much Resolve, I thought we'd go poor!
You got toilet trained then moved on to biting.
That's when things started getting really exciting!
You loved to have tea parties, and wear a fancy dress.
But then you'd belch like a trucker, while acting like a damsel in distress.
Independent for sure, you were always the boss.
You loved high heels and dresses, but looked like a HOSS!:)
If you wanted something done you'd say “Will you do it Sissy”?
And none of your siblings noted anything fishy??!
You are rarely nice to your sister or brother.
But if your voice changes slightly, they are your surrogate mother.
But then you got older and left me for school:(.
I was so sad and alone, I felt like a fool.
You didn't need me, it was perfectly clear.
You were intent on ruining your teachers career!
You listen to no one, you do what you want.
I apologize and panic, while you play debutante.
Now I plead and I beg, to get you to listen.
Ask you to cross your legs, and act more like a Christian.
But you always have danced to your own set of drums.
And you'll grow out of this nonsense, when the time comes.
You still pick your nose, and aren't sure how to wipe.
And I honestly don't even know your blood type!
But youre cute and sassy, and keep me on my toes.
Whether you'll be the death of me, only GOD knows.
You're my fashionista without any cares.
No matter how many timeouts you do on the stairs.
I love you more than you'll ever know.
And always remember these times long ago.
When I'd tell you stories about when you were in my belly.
And you'd say “Wait, I thought my moms name was Shelly”.
You're turning seven, and I'm not sure I'm ready!
It only gets crazier from here, good thing I love you already:)
Happy birthday to my baby girl…..