Since our last trip to Australia, Kaia has definitely indicated an interest in wanting to interact with Amazon Alexa (at our home) and with Google Home (Chris’s parents’ device at their house). In Melbourne, she successfully got Google to recognize when she would yell out “Google,” but her command after that was always so muddled that it wouldn’t recognize what she was saying. But she’s gotten better at enunciating her words more clearly, and she’s also gotten more detailed with her asks, whether it’s to a device or to us. Instead of saying “I want plate,” now she says, “I want my blue plate.” Instead of previously saying, “Play ‘Wheels on the Bus,'” now, she says, “Play ‘Wheels on the Bus’ by Mr. Ray (or Coco Melon).” This weekend, she successfully summoned Alexa two times: the first time was when she heard me ask about the weather, and she repeated me and said, “Alexa! What’s the weather today?” Alexa actually responded back with today’s weather report! And then a few minutes later, she yelled out, “Alexa! Play ‘Wheels on the Bus’ by Mr. Ray!” And Alexa obeyed and did it! Kaia’s reached a new toddler milestone in a day and age of voice-activated, AI powered devices! No one would have thought this was a big deal previously, but this does actually mean something: it means Kaia’s speech has become clearer and is understandable to the average person instead of just those who know her. My sweet baby is growing into a tiny human who can have a pseudo relationship with a device now!

The other day, I was changing Kaia’s diaper at our changing station, and she was being extremely unruly. It’s clear that she hates having her diaper changed now, and she’s increasingly becoming more self conscious of wearing a diaper as well as her poops. She was moving around precariously and squirming everywhere, which wasn’t fun for me considering it was a huge poop diaper. She ended up smearing poop on the changing pad cover and all over her legs; this was not fun for me. She flipped herself over, butt in the air, and just lay there, staring up at me as though she was just a little angel. I looked at her sternly, then tapped my finger on her back firmly.

“That is very naughty, Pookster,” I said to her.

Kaia looked up at me with a serious face. “Don’t hit me!” she exclaimed, turning away from me. “Don’t do that… AGAIN!”

Wait, what? Did she seriously just say that I HIT her? I tapped her back, and she thinks I actually hit her…? My child thinks that I hit her….!!!!

And then it occurred to me that this was probably language the teachers use at school when the kids get chaotic and start hitting each other. And Kaia was just parroting her teachers. But it still didn’t make me feel good. What if one day, she randomly decides to tell a teacher at school that “mommy hit me,” and then they call Child Protective Services on us, and someone has to come “observe” us at home? Talk about a nightmare waiting to happen!

The Atlantic recently published an article entitled, “Why We Long for the Most Difficult Days of Parenthood.” It’s about how parents of older children always tell parents of younger children to cherish every second because time will pass all too quickly. Your child is born. You blink. And suddenly, they are off to college or starting their very first job. Everything in between very quickly becomes a memory in the back of your mind. While all this is true, every parent can attest to the fact that the first few years of their child’s life tends to be the hardest; you are caring for a tiny human who is 100 percent helpless and thus 100 percent dependent on you, so you don’t get much time to yourself. And so these parents of older children reminisce on those tough times, those sweet times, and say they wished they had cherished those moments more.

I can relate to this a lot. Parenting a young one is no joke, especially when you’re exclusively pumping in the first year or so. Even towards the end of my pumping journey, right before bed, instead of reading or listening to podcasts, I would sometimes just watch videos spanning the previous year, when Kaia was just a newborn, a babbling baby, a crawling baby, and eventually a pulling-up-and-cruising-along-furniture baby-becoming-a-toddler. I would marvel at Kaia’s chunky little face, made fat from all the breast milk I pumped, and her chunky arms and legs that I always said I wanted to eat. I would tear up when I’d hear her first babbles and giggles or when I’d relive her first smiles and stuck-out tongues. I partly took so many videos because my friend said exactly this, that she wished she had taken more videos to just record the SOUNDS her kids made as babies because she missed the sweetness and cuteness of it so much. Even now, as Pookster is learning new skills and saying new words every single day, while I love it, part of me is a little sad that my baby is growing so fast, almost too fast. I just want to bottle her up, cup her face in my hands, and pause this moment to enjoy her in her sweet (yet rebellious) toddler phase of life.

The other morning, I coughed and ran into the other room to grab a tissue while she was eating breakfast in her high chair. As I blew my nose in the other room, I heard Kaia yell, “Are you okay, mummy-dear?” I came back into her view and smiled at her.

“Yes, mummy is okay,” I assured her. “Mummy just had to blow her nose, but I’m back now!”

I just dissolve into a puddle when she expresses love and concern. I just want to squeeze her nonstop in these moments. My baby is slowly but surely learning empathy. She’s also been especially affectionate this week, constantly asking Chris and me for hugs and kisses. She’s also repeatedly asking for kisses and hugs at bedtime, which I’m obsessed with.

I am not able to capture every single moment in photo or video, as it would be nearly impossible considering how quickly they all happen. But to fill in the gaps, I am writing about these moments in this blog so that I can document her development in a written manner to revisit them one day, and to one day have her revisit them from my perspective, as well.

About a month before we left for Australia late last year, Kaia randomly came home from school one day constantly calling me “mama-ji.” She continued to say this while we were in Australia, which cracked up Chris’s mom because “ji” is usually added to the end of a name as a sign of respect in India. It’s why you oftentimes hear people say “baba-ji” in India. And since coming back from our trip, she stopped saying “mama-ji,” but now it has evolved into “mummy dear” or what occasionally sounds like “mummy-daah!” For Chris, she greets him by saying “Daddy-ma! Daddy-ma!” “Daddy” now always ends with a “ma.” We’re not sure if one of the books they are reading in class is doing this or if she heard another one of her classmates call their parents by these terms or similar ones, but we’d assume so since we definitely do not hear these things in what we expose her to.

It’s been really cute to see how the way she addresses us has evolved. What I hope will never happen, though, is that she won’t start calling me or addressing me as “Mother.” That would annoy me to no end. It already sounds annoying to me when Chris refers to his own mom as “mother.” It feels very cold, formal, almost borderline hostile, as though you don’t feel any warmth or endearment towards your parent if you have to refer to them so formally as though you just took the dictionary term for them and slapped it on.

The evolution of Kaia’s laughter, and of course, her growth, are things that I’ve truly cherished since she exploded out of my uterus and came into my life just over two years ago. The very first time she smiled and laughed, it felt like everything else in the world didn’t matter other than seeing her with those feelings, in those moments. But what has been really cute to observe and witness is how her laugh has evolved, and what things she seems to find the most amusing.

Certain things I have said repeatedly have elicited much laughter from her. One of the things I used to say (and occasionally still do) when she was initially starting solids was, “Bite, chew, CHEW!” to encourage her to take small bites and chew her food well before swallowing. I would model this to her, then say this to her, and from the very first time, she would smile and giggle. As her laugh became more defined, she’d laugh more heartily until her laughter became almost explosive. She seems to like it when words get repeated because when we were teaching her to kick a ball and watch football (soccer), Chris’s mom would say, “Run, run, KICK!” with an emphasis on the “kick!” part, and Kaia was just roar with laughter. It didn’t seem to matter how many times you said it, but the more you would say it, the more she would laugh and demand you say it more.

She loves it when I stretch or when Chris is on the floor, stomach down, stretching. She immediately starts laughing and runs to jump and climb all over us. And tonight, I created a new little game for us that involves her Habbi Habbi books: I take her wand, have my back facing her, and slowly say, “Habbi….. HABBI!” while jumping and turning around. Then, I shake the wand at her, and she goes crazy with laughter, slamming her hands down on the bed and knocking her whole head back from excitement.

A lot of people say to me that it must be hard having such a young child and not having as much time to myself anymore. The Trader Joe’s cashier who rang me up today said this after he learned I had a toddler (he is child-free by choice). To be honest, even before I had Kaia, I always wished I had more free time; I don’t know anyone who doesn’t have this sentiment, with or without kids. I think everyone always says they want “more free time,” and it’s impossible for anyone to really feel like they have enough of it. I think what matters more is that we make the most of the time we have with things that truly fulfill us and give us joy. And with Kaia, even in her difficult toddler/tantrum moments, I find an immense amount of joy even just in these short spurts of play and laughter with her that I know I’d never feel if she didn’t exist in my life. And that enriches me.