This Is Us.

This Is Us.
This Is Us. (Couldn't Resist.)

Thursday, January 15, 2015

Thinking about Five

Sarah,

I started mentally composing some heartfelt sentiments today as I rode home from bible study.  I've been meeting with this large group for about six years, and our first study was when I was pregnant with the girl in my house turning five this Saturday.  We were studying Esther, and we've looped back around to the same study.  So I was thinking trite-but-true things about mothers and daughters and  I'm Everything I Am (Because You Loved Me) as I headed to pick up some cupcakes to bring to your preschool. And to order your Frozen cake for the party. And a box of cake mix for the family this weekend. And how absurd that actually is but who cares.

Every day, I keep a running list of all the things I should be doing better with you:

A consistent chore routine...  Scripture memory... So many books read at bedtime... How your hair looks... Getting you to say "ma'am" automatically when another adult speaks to you... If you have enough activities in your formative years... If I've set terrible eating practices for you... Why we don't have enough precious conversations about the mystery of heaven...  Should you still be having such meltdowns when you lose a privilege and hear a final "no"...

Sometimes, I lose my temper and tell you to just deal with it and I worry that you'll be completely ruin't and what if you never learn to read/be responsible/get dressed in less than 5 minutes?

These are important things and I can worry that I've just been phoning it in with you three.  Then I remember that  I've also feed you and sheltered you and affirmed you.  And that's a lot.

Plus, there's one thing we've done really well:

We've delighted together.  In some small way, usually a moment of holding hands, you reaching out; me taking a moment to break from the tyranny of the urgent to give you what you want most: my undivided attention.

We've have fashion shows and dance parties and teas and picnics and couch cuddles.  We shake our booties with some authority.

When you smile with the single dimple on your heart-shaped face, it's everything the poets say much better than me.

Here's what I want to say to you, Sarah, whether or not you read Mom's blog one day or it's just downloaded to the microchip in your head I'm sure we'll be getting in the future.  Along with the hooverboard.

When you're the next big 5-- and the next, and the next, I hope you see yourself the way I see you today.  I hope you still see me the way you see me today.  And I hope I see myself the way you see me.

Because we think the other is just the cutest thing ever.







And I hope that never changes.

 The strong, stubborn spirit, your pride in and encouragement for your brother, your mercurial way of wanting to show Sis everything and then to be.left.alone.  The way that once you are comfortable with someone, you are unafraid to be the center of attention.  It's who you are at five.  I hope to never snuff that out.


I love you oh-so-much.  Happy Birthday, Big Girl.


Mom



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