Today Ellie ripped off her diaper, pooped on my bedroom floor, and dug through her poop with Luke’s toothbrush.

I didn’t take any pictures.

You’re welcome.

This past week I took my little girl to see the family doctor.   I took her in for her well child check.  For some silly reason, I am always a little excited about these appointments.  Our doctor has been my doctor for nearly as long as I can remember.  He saw me when I was young, he’s been my doctor through my pregnancies and the births of my children.  He is now their doctor as well.  When I take my kids to see him for their well child checks, it’s almost like show and tell.  I get to show him how much the kids have grown up, what they have learned, and how darn adorable they are. 

He always sings their praises, acts impressed and amazed at their accomplishments, and asks me sincerely how I’m doing. 

That’s why I was excited.

I couldn’t wait to show him how my adorable baby girl has turned into a spunky little toddler.  My grandma volunteered to babysit my two boys so it was just me and the little princess.  She was perfectly charming and very well behaved while we waited in the lobby.  Then when the nurse weighed and measured her she didn’t put up a fight at all. 

I was thrilled.

Then Dr. O. walked in.  He was excited to see her and immediately commented on how big she had gotten.  Then he playfully got down to business.  “Hey cutie, can you show me where your eyes are?”  I was grinning on the inside because she has known the answer to this basic question since she was a year old. 

She immediately pointed directly to the ceiling in response. 

The ceiling? 

I quickly piped in saying, “you know this, where are your eyes?” Another enthusiastic point to the ceiling.

He moved on.

Where is your tummy?  She had shown him that trick the previous year when I took her in for her 1-year check-up.  This time she didn’t point to the ceiling, instead she triumphantly slapped her knees.  She had a big grin on her face as I urged her to try again and show Dr. O. where her belly was.  Another slap on the knees.  

I couldn’t believe it.

Finally he asked her where her ears were to which she responded by pinching her cheeks.  I didn’t bother trying to help.  She didn’t say a word the entire time, and spent most of the visit sitting on the exam table with her tongue sticking out.

She was crazy.

By the end of the visit, Dr. O. was explaining what the signs of autism were and what I should be watching out for.

He told me that she should be able to say simple words like cat, and dog among other things.  I tried to assure him that she did, but when I asked her to repeat it she made some unintelligible sound then stuck her tongue back out.

Soon the visit was over and Dr. O. left the room.  Immediately my little princess picked up a magazine, proudly pointed at a picture of a dog and exclaimed “puppy right there!  woof woof!”

Oh well, I guess there’s always next year.

Today my baby turns two. 

I can hardly believe it. 

Is it possible that on this very day she has suddenly grown up?  This morning she had a full conversation with my mom on the phone.  It has taken her a long time to develop her speech, so to hear her carrying on a conversation, as simple as it may have been, just about blew me away.  Today her baby girl pig-tails look like little girl pig-tails.  Today she has suddenly transformed from my baby to my little girl.

Crazy.

You may have noticed that I titled this post “Guilt,” at this point, you just might be asking yourself what on earth that has to do with my little girl’s 2nd birthday.  Trust me, the title is appropriate.

When my kids celebrate their birthday, I do my best to make it a special day.  I try to let them do just about anything (within reason) that they want to do.  I try to shower them with praise and love and special attention, and most of all, I try really hard not to get upset with them. 

 Well, unfortunately for both my little girl and me, today hasn’t quite gone as planned.

I have mentioned before that I work from home.  I work from home on my computer.  I don’t have an office, my computer sits on a desk in the middle of the kitchen.  I don’t have a nanny or a housekeeper, or a stay-at-home husband, it’s me. . .at work. . . with my kids. 

Most of the time it works out fabulously.  The kids are great to stay busy putting together legos, playing with their hot wheels, or drawing.  I can step in and referee an argument every now and again, I can change a diaper and refill a sippy cup, and I can hold my baby girl on my lap while I type.

Today is just like any other in the fact that I am once again working.  I am trying hard to make the day special for my little birthday girl, but as I mentioned earlier, today she has transformed.  She has transformed from a baby to a two-year-old, and that has proven itself both good and bad. 

Today instead of letting me hold her on my lap while she just sits there being comforted, she feels the need to repeatedly bang the keyboard with her tiny toddler hand.  Today, on her very special day, she has had three massively foul smelling diapers, she has colored on my dining room table, tried to shave her legs with a razor I was certain was well out of her reach, unfolded every single towel in my house, and threw multiple hand-fulls of noodles on the kitchen floor.

I have done my best to be patient.  I have done my best not to get upset with her, I have done my best not to hate myself because she was able to do many of those random acts of destruction while I was working, but what it comes down to is that I am doing my best. 

So is she.

I am confident that by the time she wakes up from her nap she won’t even remember that I pointed my finger at her and sternly said “No, No!” as she threw the noodles to the floor. . . but I’ll remember, she most likely won’t remember the special pink skirt I, or the  pom pom garland, or the dandelion night light that I have spent hours making her for her special day. . . but I will .  But there is one thing that I hope she does remember, that I love that little girl more than I could ever possibly express.  I love everything about her, ever-single-thing.

Happy Birthday Baby!