Dear S –
Five years ago today you came bounding into our world quickly and confidently. Looking back, we think you were probably giggling rather than crying when you were born. When you learned to smile you didn’t stop. Your eyes have been vibrant and full of mischief since we met. You’ve grown from a beautiful baby, to a terrific toddler and now to a precocious preschooler. You’ve started quoting your favorite movies, “Lone, Lonely, Loner.” and you’ve got your My Little Pony frustration stare down to a science. You are a super fast skater and hockey player, a very graceful dancer and a fearless swimmer. You love animals of all kind, especially you’re sweet pup, Bug.
It’s hard to believe you’re already 5. But then I look at you and see you in another year, in five, in ten. I can say I’m looking forward to every moment, every cuddle, every super-girl-hug.
Happy Birthday, baby girl.
I Love You,
I’m joining Erin for a year of 52 weeks. And I’m behind. Again.
These weeks you:
• threw multiple parties, including one with “confetti”
• went to open skate (twice) and skated faster than I’ve ever seen you skate, laughing the whole time
• brought me to the coffee shop where you picked out Peanut Butter Chocolate Cheesecake
• played chase with Daddy and Luna over and over and over
• taught the younger girls at dance class how to throw and catch a ball… gently…
This weekend I pulled a new book off the shelf. I’ve had it for a while, and I’ve read bits and pieces of it, but somehow it ended back on the shelf. So when I say New, it’s New to me, again. For those of you that know me, you know I’m not religious, so why read a book with “god” in the title? It was the subtitle that grabbed me, actually: “Reflections for Mothers in a Hurry.”
I realized last week that I was always rushing. And not just myself.
“Get your boots on.. Jacket, mittens, into the car, outta the car, let’s get going, it’s cold.” (Can I blame some of the hurried-ness on the fact that we’ve had 50 days below zero this year and frankly, I’m frozen?)
But I don’t want to be that Mom. The one that’s always rushing to the next thing, the next place, when really, what we need is to just drive until we find Peanut Butter Chocolate Cheesecake and Pumpkin Bars.
Which is exactly what Daughter and I did Sunday afternoon.
We gave Daddy/Husband a quick break (after he threw confetti from the loft into the living room dozens, maybe hundreds of times) and we drove. I let Daughter tell me which way to go. Which coffee shop to find. She didn’t want the one with the play area. She wanted the one that’s in a red brick building on a corner. What she obviously knew is that that coffee shop has “bakery” in it’s name and is full of all things sugary and sweet and chocolatey and heavenly. The car seemed to find it on it’s own.
And we found a quiet booth and shared our treats: Cheesecake for her; Pumpkin Bar for me.