And all should cry, Beware! Beware! Her flashing eyes, her floating hair! *

Dear India,

While this is less than flattering, I feel like your 14th month is most characterized by your SHRILL SCREAMING.

You are lovely and joyful and hilarious, yes, and you have such a strong and charming personality, but this month I dedicate to your screaminess. Oh, and your hair. Your hair!

Your hair refuses to be tamed, and I love it. It stands straight up and waves in the breeze and it's just delightful.

But the screaming. The endless screaming.


I don't even know quite how to describe the sound. It's a combination of nails on chalk and sheets of metal being wrenched and a fork scraping on glass with some shrieking eels thrown in for giggles.

It is a noise that you pull out at the slightest indication that we are not hopping to meet your needs fast enough. I know you are frustrated because you know what you want and can't communicate it and this comes out in this song of Satan.

It is a noise that causes my blood pressure to rise, my shoulders to tense up, my temper to shorten, my ovaries to clench, my hand to reach for the wine glass.

It is the very noise that I am afraid will make every single person on the plane to Denver tomorrow loathe us for the entire four-hour flight.

Because yes! We are going to Denver! Daddy is going to a conference and we are going to see so many friends and family and yay it is going to be awesome!

Jordan is so excited. Every night we tell a story in bed, and Goldilocks and the Three Bears has slowly evolved and expanded to Goldilocks and Her Brother Jordan, Who Go to the Airport and Fly on an Airplane to Denver, Colorado.

Last night the story included Goldilocks, her brother Jordan, baby India, their mommy and daddy, their nana, their Lucy, and Molly and her daddy. All going to Denver.

If we add many more people we're going to have to charter a flight.

But this is about you. You have no idea what we're about to do, and while I think you're going to have a blast hanging out with friends, I am pretty terrified about flying with you. And shifting your time zone. And getting you to sleep in a hotel room.

Basically, the whole trip. I'm afraid you will scream and not sleep and we will not sleep and then we will all be crabby and there you have it.

You and your brother are just so different.  I was told by so many people that girls are easier, less busy. You are far more busy, and you always have an agenda. You are always headed somewhere, walking with a purpose.

Your preference during meals is to have one foot on the table, and it is enough of a struggle that at this point I just let you. So after meals I wipe your face, your hands, and your right foot.

You and Jordan are my joy, and we run around like lunatics and snuggle and giggle and have so many delightful moments. I love that you are strong, and I want to foster your strength, particularly because you are a girl.

But dear Lord, the screaming.

Love,

Mama


*Apologies to Coleridge