2 (!)

 We Bentz gals (and Grandpa, Wolfman, and Mads) celebrated the littlest Bentz gal the day after her actual birthday, which she spent with The Goods, eating way too much sugar (as one should, though sleep that night did not happen easily or at all, according to her mother).  Ella may have been suffering a bit of sugar hangover when we saw her on the 20th, or perhaps she just couldn't wait to test the Terrible Twos waters.  Whatever the reason, Ella was less interested in opening presents and eating cake than hoarding animal cookies and, in general, not following suggestion or direction (even when those suggestions and directions would've led her to lots of fun!).  Ella was frustrated by the suffocating guidance of adults, Sierra was a bit frustrated with Ella's transformation into the Cookie Monster, and I was frustrated with my camera because photographing two constantly moving toddlers is asking too much of it.  (I cannot manage to get a picture of either of these kids these days without at least a slight blur.) And, this has nothing to do with the party per se, but Wolfman warned me my new striped tent-dress was unflattering before we left the house ("It makes you look big," he said, "and you're not big"), but I either didn't believe him or didn't care until I saw the video and photos from the day.

 

I hope I don't sound like I'm complaining.  I'm not, exactly.  My family's inability to ever pull off a good party is something I find kind of charming about us.  We always mean well, but never quite manage to make something seamless and beautiful and unforgettable.  Maybe on Ella's 3rd?  Mads had fun, at least.  (All those balloons!)

Ella Lois

 Dear Ella,

You are two years old today, I am astonished to say.  You'll get tired of me telling you this one day, but I saw you born, and because of my particular view, I may have been the first person to see your little face.  I sobbed, because the moment was so intense and you were so precious and so here.  You were the most spectacular thing I had ever seen, and I felt honored to be in the same room with you.  Since that moment, you have given me a whole heck of a lot of firestarter looks, you've ripped up a few of my books, and you've even slapped me a handful of times, so you may be skeptical when I say I still feel the same way about you, but it's true.  I am honored to be your Aunt, to have you in my life.  You are special.  You are funny and weird and singular and beautiful beyond words--like, seriously, hands down the most gorgeous little girl in all of existence.  It is safe to say I am a big fan of yours, and I will continue to be in the years to come.  You and me, baby girl, we are going to have so much fun.  And, also, there will be a few more firestarter looks from you to me, I'm sure of it.

I love you.  Happy Birthday!

Aunt Mimi   

In answer to the question: how is the baby liking the snow?

 

 

It's not exactly a marshmallow world; I've only seen North Carolina turned into a marshmallow world twice in the twenty years I've lived here.  The ground and trees are dusted prettily, though.  The snow kicks up when we venture outdoors.  Most people want to know how the baby's liking the snow.  The truth is, I think Mads is less impressed with the snow than I am with the way he looks in his snow suit.  Since getting all this weather the past couple weeks, Mads has taken to dragging his snow suit off its hanger in the foyer, laying it on the floor at my feet, and then laying on top of it--letting me know he'd like to venture outdoors.  But it's the outdoors he wants, not the snow, certainly not the ice.  After about fifteen minutes experiencing actual winter, he will begin to fuss and hold his arms up to be held.  The wind cuts his face and his fingers probably hurt, though when he realizes I am carrying him toward the house, he will throw a fit.  He doesn't want to be inside, exactly, he just doesn't want the outside to be so harsh. He'd like me to do something about this, and I have no way of explaining to him yet that I don't control these things.  Even if I did, though, I might still let it snow.

 

 

Here's a flashback to last January, the babies' first snow. Also: last February's snow.