Grandpa’s Lemon Tree

Dear Eva,

For the past several days, I have been here in Brisbane alone while you and mummy were down in Melbourne, and I was amazed at just how empty the house was without you here. Your laughs and screams and toys and drawings creep into all the corners and spaces, brightening them up with little bits of your personality. Without you here everything was a little colder. A little emptier.

But then you stepped off the plane into the airport, ran into my arms, and filled up my world again.

Welcome home, little girl.

Love,

Daddy

26 July 26 Permalink

Dear Eva

Today you are 22 months old. Almost two! Recently I’ve found myself completely in awe of the little girl you are becoming. So much personality. So big.

Just the other day, I cradled you in my arms, just as I had done when you were a newborn. Only now, your long legs drape over my arm and you wriggle and fidget, filled with energy as I steal a kiss before releasing you to run off.

Everyday you change a little more and I’m starting to find it hard to imagine how small you once were. Every time you pipe up with a new word or show off a new skill, I couldn’t be more proud. 

Today, you are still a toddler, but maybe tomorrow or maybe the day after that, you are going to become a little girl. I know that it will creep up on me. I know that I am going to turn around and there will be a little girl standing there telling me all about her day.

It’s so exciting!

Love,

Mummy 

23 March 26 Permalink

Dear Eva

Dear Eva, 

You haven’t entered tantrum territory yet, but you have mastered a “fake cry” (which when asked will do on cue). You have also mastered the art of manipulation. When ever you know you’re in trouble or doing something you know you shouldn’t, you flash us your infectious smile and let out a giggle in the hopes of creating a distraction. 

Just today while we were at the pool, I told you to stop running. You turned around, smiled, proceeded to walk a few steps and then checked that I was still watching. You are definitely testing the boundaries and it took all my strength not to laugh or smile at your antics. 

Your cheeky and quirky nature has us constantly laughing.

Whether it be the way you fall asleep — often with something in your hand (a book, an iPhone, or yesterday it was a lion finger-puppet) — or how you insisted on wearing your sunhat inside. Or when we spend an hour putting you to bed and you are almost asleep, when suddenly you roll over to jump up and push your toy pram down the hall. 

I feel incredibly lucky to have such a spirited little girl. You are truly a delight to watch — ever inquisitive, ever beautiful. 

Much love. Always and forever,

Mum

11 November 26 Permalink

Dear Eva,

Where has the time gone? Too fast, you are now my little girl and no longer my baby daughter. I am torn between anticipating your next steps and missing those days of your first little smiles. Torn between pushing you forward and wanting you to slow down.

But you are never go to slow down, are you? Already, I can see that’s not you. Already, you are skinned knees and running as fast as you can. You are climbing anything in your path and scabby elbows. You are as wild and daring as I hoped and feared you would be. It’s so scary and so exciting to watch.

Will you stay this way? A little girl who drags her hovering daddy to the highest part of the jungle gym? Will you always be so adventuresome? So lovingly reckless? I see us in the future stalking the path to Machu Piccu. Exploring the grandeur of Angkor Watt. Hiking the basin of the Grand Canyon. 

But that’s not all who you are. You are curious and pensive. Loving and empathetic. A little bit bookish. A little bit precocious. And a lot goofy (cheeky, your mummy would say).

I see so much of your mummy and me in you. And I am seeing so much that is just you. Perfect in every way.

I love you.

Daddy

2 November 28 Permalink

Dear Baby Magazine

The latest issue of Dear Baby Magazine finally here!

If you have a look at the past issue, you might notice my little Eva on the front cover! When she was 10.5 months old she “modelled” for the magazine and we received free professional photographs of all the the images used. 

I also somehow convinced Johnny to be a contributor to the magazine. In this issue he shares a few of his letters to Eva, written when she was 3, 6, 9 and 12 months old. You can read them on pages 68-72. 

But since I haven’t posted all of these letters, I thought I’d share them here as well.

Letters from the First Year

 Dear Eva,

I don’t think that you noticed, but this past Sunday, you turned 3-months old.

For you, it was just another day of lights and shadows and movement that you are still trying to understand: vast sheets of vivid colours and meaningless shapes spreading unevenly in front of you.

Some of those shapes are beginning to have some significance. Your Mommy’s beautiful face smiling down on you. The puffy, orange lips of your favourite stuffed toy dangling from above. My face, stubbled and tired, but all smiles when I come home to find you and Mommy snuggled together on the sofa.

But it’s all still too overwhelming for such a little thing to comprehend.

So I don’t think you marked this Sunday as particularly special.

But I did. I thought about how much you have grown. How every day, I see more of your personality unfolding and blossoming. I thought about how today you are 3-months old and tomorrow I will turn around and you will be a little girl.

I thought about how I need to try and hold onto these little memories: the way you purse your lips when contorting into the most yogic of morning stretches (while simultaneously letting loose with shockingly loud farts); the way you raise one eyebrow quizzically; or how you smile like I do, sort of drunkenly lopsided.

And even though for you, Sunday was just another day. And even though by the time you are old enough to understand days of the week, and calendars and birthdays, 3 months will seem like a ridiculously small amount of time to get excited about.

For me, Sunday was a milestone. And I was so proud of you.

Love,

Daddy

Dear Eva,

Six-months old and already you seem so grown up. I look at the photos we have from the day you were born, and I can’t believe that you were ever that small. Or ever that fragile.

And now you can sit. Completely unaided and with perfect zen focus for 20 minutes at a time while contemplating (i.e. chewing and gnawing on) your toys. And now you can push yourself across the wooden floors. Working hard to get where you want to go. 

We see more and more of you each day. Your little preferences for a particular toy or song. Your ways and means of doing things. You have an unfathomable but undeniable logic in everything you do. I can sit and watch you for hours, just imagining what you are thinking.

Only 6-months old and you have already changed me so much. Changed me for the better. Made me a better person, a better man. And I promise to always do as best I can by you. And I may not always be able to give you everything you want, I will always give you everything you need. I know that you will take that and make the best of yourself.

Because you are doing that already.

Your mummy and I love you forever and always.

Love,

Daddy

Dear Eva,

You are 9-months old and bounding your way to toddlerhood.

I am already finding it hard to cope with. I see little girls laughing and playing in the park, and I can’t help but think about how soon that will be you. Running up the slides. Chasing other children around the swing set. Sneaking off to have private conversations with a best friend.

But for now, you are at least content to pull yourself up on the coffee table. Standing tall and proud, but already contemplating taking that first step.

And you are such a curious little one. Into anything and everything. Squeezing your small body into anywhere it will fit. I love picking up your room at night and just seeing what you got yourself up to during the day.

And as much as I want to freeze these moments and hold on to them forever, I am so excited to see what you do next. What your next triumph is. And this is how it is going to be your whole life. I will always be there to gush over all your triumphs, at times to your great annoyance. 

But someday, when you have your own children, you will understand how much I love you and why every little accomplishment makes me so proud.

I love you so much.

Love,

Daddy

Dear Eva,

You are now 1-year old.  No longer a baby (and probably already annoyed that I still think of you as one). Almost a little girl. Trying to do things for yourself. Trying to explore the world around you. Pushing a little further and farther everyday.

I wonder how long it will be before you no longer turn around to make sure I am still there behind you, ready to catch you. How long will it be before you race off into the world ready to take it all on by yourself?

You are already so proud and confident and headstrong. Already trying to run faster and climb higher.

And I am so, so proud of you.

One day all of your achievements in this first year will seem so little compared to what you are doing then. Rolling over, sitting up, crawling, standing up, saying your first words. These will seem small and pitiful. But to us these achievements have been like climbing Everest. Huge accomplishments that we celebrated and documented and will never forget.

One day you will be somewhere, possibly halfway across the world, calling us to say that you have gotten that job or you are getting married or you are having baby. And those will be amazing, fantastic, life-changing moments for you and for us.

But you won’t remember that you felt the same way the first time you clapped your hands together. And the first time a puppy dog licked your outreached fingers. And the first time you noticed the rain falling onto your face.

I’ll remember all those moments for you.

We love you more than you can ever imagine.

Happy birthday, little girl.

Love,

Daddy

26 September 21 Permalink

Dear Eva

Dear Eva,

You are now 1-year old.  No longer a baby (and probably already annoyed that I still think of you as one). Almost a little girl. Trying to do things for yourself. Trying to explore the world around you. Pushing a little further and farther everyday.

I wonder how long it will be before you no longer turn around to make sure I am still there behind you, ready to catch you. How long will it be before you race off into the world ready to take it all on by yourself?

You are already so proud and confident and headstrong. Already trying to run faster and climb higher.

And I am so, so proud of you.

One day all of your achievements in this first year will seem so little compared to what you are doing then. Rolling over, sitting up, crawling, standing up, saying your first words. These will seem small and pitiful. But to us these achievements have been like climbing Everest. Huge accomplishments that we celebrated and documented and will never forget.

One day you will be somewhere, possibly halfway across the world, calling us to say that you have gotten that job or you are getting married or you are having baby. And those will be amazing, fantastic, life-changing moments for you and for us.

But you won’t remember that you felt the same way the first time you clapped your hands together. And the first time a puppy dog licked your outreached fingers. And the first time you noticed the rain falling onto your face.

I’ll remember all those moments for you.

We love you more than you can ever imagine.

Happy birthday, little girl.

Love,

Daddy

24 May 29 Permalink

Dear Eva,

My sweet baby girl. Today we celebrated another milestone — you turned 9 months old. And in these few short months of life you have changed so much from your days of being a newborn. 

Sometimes I catch myself staring at you — amazed that you are really mine. I’m in awe of your beauty. And I’m in love with your spunky little personality.

You are a curious little one — crawling anywhere you can squeeze your small body. I know that you won’t be crawling for too much longer as you are eager to stand and become more independent. You are constantly pulling yourself up onto the furniture to explore new and undiscovered surfaces or to simply retrieve something that had be taken away — remotes, power cords or an iPhone. 

I feel incredibly blessed to have you in my life. To be able to call you my daughter. And to be able to proudly say that I am your mother.

You have already taught me so much about what it means to be patient and selfless. But I want you to know more than anything, that you are loved. 

No matter how many times I say it, or how many ways I try to write about it, you will never realise how truly loved you are until you have a child of your own to hold in your arms. 

With all of the love in my heart, 

mummy

xxx

23 February 24 Permalink

Dear Evie (Guest Blogger)

Dear Evie,

What sort of person you will be? Are you going to be like mommy: cappuccino and wholefood and melodious? Or will you be like me: shots of espresso and provincial and lo-fi?

I wonder if you will like to travel as much as we do. There are so many places we want to show you. 

There’s the temple in Kyoto, Kyomizu-dera, at the end of the Philosopher’s Road. Its ancient wooden platforms soaring above the old capital of Japan. There’s the streets of Kuala Lumpur. Bustling with street vendors, and housing stalls dripping with strange and fantastic fruits. There is Mont Saint Michel. Where you can watch the tide, faster than a racing horse, rush in from the horizon. There is the grandeur of Rome. The romance of Paris. There is the New World with its great stretches of highway.

Then there are the places we will explore for the first time together. The stark bushland of Australia’s interior. The endless corridors of Angkor Watt. The bridges of Budapest. The sands of Oman. The long winding tracks to Machu Pichu.

There are so many places for you to see. So many things for you to do. So many people for you to meet.

And I am so curious and excited and anxious to see what you will make of it all. Of what you will bring to this world.

I wonder about all of this all of the time.

Love,

Daddy,

5 April 1 Permalink

Dear Evie (Guest Blogger)

On our fourth year wedding anniversary, my very talented husband wrote this letter to our unborn child. Reading this has made me realise just how lucky I am. 

Dear Evie,

This is a special week for you —you started dreaming. As you get older, those dreams will become amazing and fantastic and beautiful. And sometimes, a little scary.

But for now, I imagine that your dreams are about simple things. Warmth and shades of color. The rhythms of your mommy’s heart or maybe even daddy’s voice calling your name from some place completely unimaginable.

You don’t yet have any stories of your own to dream. Those will come later. So for now, I will tell you one of mine. This one is about how I met your mommy.

I was living in a country called Japan. An incredible place, that is sometimes very confused by its own self. It is electrical and tranquil. Centered and riddled. Hyper-modern and traditional. It is the same place that your cousin Hitomi and Auntie Miwa were born. And a place that I will always think of as home.

Your Uncle Jamie lived there, and we were good friends. Your uncle and I liked to go out to clubs and bars until sometimes very late at night. Sometimes we would even see the first rays of the morning light creeping across the tall buildings of the city where we lived.

One of our favorite places to go was called Ryan’s. It was a loud place with big wooden tables. And the people who went there had come from all over the world. From places so cold that even in the summertime, you shiver in the evenings. Others were from hot, desert places where the men dress in long robes. And others were from places with the old buildings that you sometimes see in picture books.

One night, your uncle came in to Ryan’s with his sister, your mommy. Your mommy had come from Australia to teach in your uncle’s school for one year.

When I saw her, I thought she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Her hair was long and spun into tight ringlets that spilled down her back, and her smile was cheeky and mischievous. I spent the entire night talking to her and trying to impress her.

Over the next several weeks, your mommy and I saw each other several times around the city. At cafes and clubs and restaurants. But it was not until Saint Patrick’s Day, March 17, again at Ryan’s, that we both knew that we were falling in love.

That was seven years ago today, and I have been happy ever since.

Sweet dreams, little one. We think about you all the time.

Love,

Daddy

17 March 1 Permalink