In the last year Loney has done nothing but surprise me and show me just how dumb I was for thinking I knew her. In her first year of life I was convinced Loney was the most chill, sweetheart, mellow baby who ever lived. She slept 12 hours a night, ate anything, smiled at everyone, and loved to bounce and snuggle. I thought she would be just this sweet, smiley girl who toddled around behind her sister and adored her dad.
Boy, was I wrong.
I mean, she does toddle around behind her sister, and she does adore her dad. She’s sweet and smiley, too. Don’t get me wrong. I was just so naive to assume that was ALL she would be. I was wrong to underestimate how powerful a little person can be. How full and deep.
Let’s start with her patronus. I picked a llama, but even then it never felt as solid. Reese? Panda. Panda all the way. Watch Kung Fu Panda 3 (a documentary film all about the fundamental, natural truths of pandas) and tell me that’s not Reese. But Loney’s llama never felt spot on. It was cute. It was everywhere. It was sweet, and quiet, and adorable, the way I pictured this baby in my belly.
Nope, this girl is a freaking raccoon down to her bones. She’s a scavenger, a shameless mooch, with these tiny little dexterous hands and a greedy little grin. She is the messiest child I have ever encountered, but it’s somehow endearing and perfectly adorable. She gets into literally everything; it’s actually impressive. She runs around all waddle-y on these little tippy toes. She crashes into everything, climbs everything just to fall off of it, and let’s absolutely none of it phase her. She tumbles back up mumbling “I’m ok! I’m ok!”
She is sneaky AF. Thankfully it’s just now that she’s learned to open doors. Probably because she’s finally exhausted all of her options of stuff to completely wreck. We once found her in the kitchen surrounded by an emptied bottle of Soft Scrub and we completely panicked. You don’t even want to know how many crayon fragments I’ve found in her diapers, you guys. She eats her way through any wrapper she can’t open. It’s just an additional obstacle which WILL NOT STOP HER.
She is much more affectionate than her big sister, and we love every second of it. Lately she’s been grabbing my face/head (sometimes by handfuls of hair) and yanking me in for a big, open-mouthed, messy, wet kiss. Complete with a big “MMMMMMMWAAAAHHHH!” and sometimes she bites me. She loves to hold hands. She gives slamming knee hugs, with a surprising amount of force. She asks me so many times during any given day to “nuggle” and it melts my heart every time.
Loney sings at the top of her lungs, and bounces her shoulder at every single song. She screams anytime she sees Mickey Mouse, Ariel, or the Grinch. I love that she says “Yaesth” to pretty much anything you ask her and I will cry the day she starts pronouncing it normally.
Reese & Loney’s relationship is special. Loney loves Reese and takes every ounce of attention Reese deigns to give her. But Loney also body checks Reese to the ground, like, every day. Somehow they never fight alone, and that means a lot to me. They were both happier (although more destructive) when we moved them in together, and they never fight or hurt one another alone in there. They just play and snuggle and sing so loudly we can’t even hear Netflix. I think they love each other slightly more than they hate each other and I call that a win. My girls are feisty and even the fighting means care.
I feel more guilt with Loney than I ever did with Reese. Even that sentence gives me guilt because I shouldn’t define Loney by constant comparison with her big sister!!!! Loney doesn’t get as much of me as Reese did. I didn’t cosleep with Loney as much (I can’t decide if she’s a terrible cosleeper because I didn’t cosleep with her as much or if I didn’t cosleep with her as much because she’s a terrible cosleeper). I don’t read with her like I did with Reese. Because she sleeps with Reese I think sometimes she doesn’t get as much sleep as she normally would. She chipped her tooth, splits her lip open regularly, and hurts herself on my watch all the time! I’m awful.
Loney was the most perfect, sweet, and angelic baby during my anxiety fog lasting a year. She was, at times, my only solace. She literally brought me peace when nothing else could. I can’t write this without tears, because she was exactly who I needed; I could not have survived any other child. She was an absolute balm to a broken, wounded soul. My Loney. And I worry every day about repaying that service. I feel guilt every time I push her sticky paws off my arm, ignoring her “pom on, mom! pom on!” because I’m trying to make dinner or work or pee. I owe her so much more for saving my life.
Malone will always be important to me. Not like, duh, she’s my daughter important. But Malone Katherine is a particular person that is meant to fit into my curves, fill my gaps, push me forward. I’m still figuring out who she is and what she’ll be to me. I’m still trying my very best to do better for her.
She’s something, this kid. She’s somethin’.
