Happy Birthday, Sissy Doll

12 years ago, I gave birth to my darling Monica.  She's my darling now, but I worried for a while.

First of all, I was pregnant for a while before I knew it.  I continued to have my....(edited for my male readers.  Sorry Russ and Jim.) Anyway, I didn't have the usual "signs" of being "with child."

By the time we figured it out, the doctor could only estimate my due date by measurements.  They measure the HEAD, the bones of the leg, and something else.  Anyone who has met my family knows that we have BIG heads.  Whoppin' ol' beans.  Due to this, we later realized that they probably induced her 2 weeks early.  I get pregnant by passing Kevin in the hallway.  I carry a child quite well.  The problem is that I can't give birth without medical help.

So, we go to the hospital, and I get the pitosin (sp) drip, and later, Monica is born.  Then she started crying.  She cried and cried and cried.

She had some asthma issues, but that may be from being induced 2 weeks early.  She has long since outgrown it.  Other than getting sick a lot, she cried.  She cried and cried and cried.

My firstborn didn't cry unless he was hungry or needed a diaper change, so this was a whole new problem.  She cried during the day, and she cried during the night.  Kevin and I would take turns walking with her.  Kevin has always gone to bed early, so I'd walk her, and talk to her, until midnight or so.  By then, Kevin would wake up and take over...walking her and talking to her.

We would tell her what a light switch was, how the remote worked, what the square root of 9801 was (99) and other such nonsense.  Then, one day, she realized she could sit up on her own.  For the first time in her life, she was HAPPY!  She cooed and played and slept well and laughed.  She was SO happy.  For a few weeks.

Then she cried.  She cried day and night again, until she learned to crawl.  She crawled with her hands, one knee, and one foot.  It was the funniest thing, but she was happy.  For a few weeks.

Then she cried.  She cried day and night again, until she learned to walk.  From then on, she was independent and happy!  We finally realized that her brain was ahead of her body, and she just wanted to move on.  Everyone who met her knew she was advanced, but who would have guessed that she was THAT far advanced.

Monica was potty trained by 18 months.  Mom taught her to write her name at 2 years old.  She was reading by 3 1/2.  Yeah, this kid has what it takes.  She's an A student, all the way.  She's funny and intelligent and beautiful.  She is so much fun to have around.

Monica, I love you, dear.  You are the cat's meow, as they say.  I am so proud of you, and excited about your future.  Enjoy your last year before you're a teen.  Your last year of elementary school.  Your last year before Daddy and I start freaking out.  Enjoy it, my dear.