To Stella (who was 20 months old and is now) 21 months old

Dear Stella,

I thought for much of the past month that I would just write your 20 month letter late and pretend that it was on time and not that I've been working a hell of a lot lately and haven't managed to sit down and complete the damn thing. The truth is, I did start one but I never finished it and after awhile I realized that I should not pretend that I am perfect and always responsible with my priorities properly in line. But, rather, I should embrace my imperfections as a mother and that you will know regardless that I always did my best even if I sometimes came up short. And so in honor of that acceptance (which I hope you share with me someday and I apologize in advance for those ways in which I fail you) this is the first ever combined months letter. And it will be a doozy because the past two months have been pretty extraordinary.

I believe that our primary job, mine and Dad's, as your parents is to raise you to be independent, to leave us and go live your own beautiful, rich, meaningful life. (I know already how these very words will come back to haunt me.) I hope Daddy and I will get to share in it it a lot but, ultimately, we gave it to you and it's yours, however hard it may be for us to accept that. And I must say, I expect it will be very hard. Indeed, I am certain of this because, at 21 months, you are a startlingly independent little girl and it is already a challenge to let you go up or down a flight of stairs without holding your hand or hovering close behind. But when I go to do either of these things, you emphatically shriek "No" until I clear out of there. You really like to do things for and by yourself. Sometimes if something is particularly challenging (like attaching a large shopping bag to your tiny doll stroller) you will get enormously frustrated and I will ask "Do you want to do it yourself or do you need help?" and you will answer "Hep". And help you I will. It's not only shopping bags that you like to attach to your stroller. At any given time you have a number of pocketbooks on there too which you call "pockaboolia" and which make you very happy, especially if there is make-up, money or a cellphone inside them. You also show your independent streak when it is time to get dressed. Already gone are the days where I could pick out anything and you would let me put it on you. Now when it is time to get dressed you demand "Dress. Dress." Sometimes I can convince you that I have a really really cute pair of pink shorts for you to try on instead. But if it is something you don't want on, there's little I can do to talk you into it.

You love to try on my shoes and are suprisingly adept at getting around in them. Yesterday you tried to convince me to let you go outside wearing my sandals but I was forced to lay down the law. For my birthday, Grandma got me an amazing new pair of shoes which you took an immediate liking to. It kind of makes me look forward to the day when we can really share shoes and clothes. Having a daughter is fun.

















Last month I took you to get a haircut and decided to try out bangs. The thing is your hair was constantly in your face and I was always obsessively making sure that I had a barrette for you in our bag. I knew bangs would take care of all that but I also knew they would really make you look more like a little girl and less like a baby. My eyes teared up as the nice lady at Doodle Doo's cut them. But they really did look so adorable. And you had a really good time standing in the car getting your hair done. You refused to sit down or wear the smock but other than that, you were really easygoing about the whole thing.


















This month you needed a little trim and I did it myself. You were very patient and stayed completely still as I cut your bangs. And later you happily proclaimed "Haircut. Mommy" and we both beamed with pride.

You are talking so much now. In three word sentences all the time like "Cuh huh uh" which means "Pick her up" and "I don't wannoo". When we go out and I ask if you want to walk or go in your stroller, most often you will answer "Carry Tella" and, therefore, I now have pretty buff arms. Grandma Helaine and I were sitting with you one day last month and Grandma asked you a question to which we both swear you replied "I don't want to talk." We looked at each other like "Did she just say what we think she said?" I think she did.

You are still really into books and building towers and drawing (especially with markers). Grandma Helaine gave us a puzzle awhile ago where you match a parent animal with a baby animal -- The duck piece fits with the ducklings, the kangaroo fits with the joey, etc. You absolutely mastered this. For awhile you could find the right pieces but couldn't make them fit together though you'd walk around holding them and saying "fit. fit" but now, you can finish the thing in no time flat. You probably love climbing more than anything else but I guess everybody likes what they are good at. Seriously, you will climb on anything and everything. The other morning I made you pancakes and you demanded to stand on top of one of them when they were finished. I did tell Daddy about this feat before he ate it. You love to climb on all the jungle gyms at the playground -- especially the ones that are designed for children over seven.















Daddy had a great idea awhile ago to set up an obstacle course in the living room showing you how you could climb up on the couch and then onto the arm of the couch to get onto the piano then across the piano and onto the air filter, across the air filter onto the window sill and then from the window sill across some boxes that we still haven't upacked right onto our nice, new Ligne Roset chair and over that chair onto the floor. I'm so glad Daddy taught you this because it is such fun to spot you while you do it over and over and over and over and over and over and over.

You also love to play hide and seek. You will go into a hiding spot which is often tucked away in your closet or in a little nook in the kitchen by the window and Daddy and I will go searching for you: "Is Stella in the refrigerator? Is Stella in the overn? Is Stella out the window? Is Stella in the cabinet?" until you come out of your spot or we spy you there. As soon as we find you, you demand "Gen!" and we do it again. One time, you decided you wanted to play while I was in the middle of changing your diaper.















In the past six weeks I have been working a lot. I am directing a new play by Neil Labute and it's been a really tough job. I have been away more than usual - and it's been a long preview period so I haven't put you to bed except on weekends in awhile. This has been hard for both of us. The other day I came home before the show to hang out with you and right before your bath I told Daddy that I had to go soon. You obviously understood this because a couple minutes later you started throwing a real tantrum, crying hysterically. I know that I am always leaving you in good hands but it is still heartbreaking to go. I'm lucky that I have a job I really like because otherwise I don't know how I could get out the door. The upside is that I think having a full life away from you helps me to be really focused and happy when we are together. And now that my schedule is slowing down, we are having so much fun.

We've had a few great days in the playground with Daddy. Now that it is hot out, they have turned the sprinklers on and you took to the water immediately. You love to fill your pail up and pour water over one of the hippos.













You told me that you are washing it which is probably a very good idea. God knows what that poor hippo has been through. You also freaked your father out when you climbed up inside another one of the hippos and came out its mouth.














Often in the morning, we will go for a walk to Georgia's where I will get a coffee and you will get a "muppa" or a croissant (which you pronounce perfectly and man, was I shocked the first time you asked me for one of those (thanks, Mom and Dad). Now you no longer like to sit on my lap but prefer to take the chair across from me. You also no longer like to share. Everything is "mine. mine. mine" which is okay. I don't want any of your lousy muffin anyway, kid. You have also had a couple rides on an old-school horse outside of a drugstore on Broadway. Someone told me the horse used to play music but it doesn't anymore. You don't seem to mind.

















One evening, we were outside on the street when you asked for my sunglasses and I gave them to you. Within seconds I heard "uh oh" and looked down at my sunglasses which had fallen were broken. It was sad but you cheerfully told me "Daddy. Fix it. Tape." Later, Daddy did indeed fix them with tape. Now they are yours which is who you thought they belonged to all along. The truth is, you are such an angel, such a precious little girl, so kind and cuddly, smart and funny that I really don't mind sharing all my things with you. If you were a brat, forget it but since you aren't, you can borrow my blackberry anytime.

Love,
Mommy