In two weeks you are going to graduate Preschool. Knowing you and your steel trap mind, you are going to remember every detail of it.
And so will I.
When I brought you home from the hospital I was clueless. Nursing, bath time, diaper changes. Everything was a challenge. Everything raised questions. But as you grew and developed I did too.
I learned not to freak out if, at three months, you weren’t following my neurotic schedule. I learned chores could be accomplished if I wore you in a wrap, but days spent watching TV on the couch with you sleeping on my chest, were worth the dirty dishes.
Your accomplishments were mine. I burst into tears when you gained 6 ounces after losing almost 10% of your birth weight. You crawled and I melted. You walked and I beamed. You smiled and I was yours.
It hasn’t always been easy. You are the definition of a strong willed child. Too smart for your own good. Sometimes we failed parenting you. But there was always forgiveness at the end. And you always gave it with joy. (once you were good and ready to, of course.)
During those first couple years, I often wished for a break. But when it was time for you to start school I was terrified. See, becoming a mom means taking out your heart and placing it inside someone else. I’ll never control it again. It’s yours forever, and that’s a wonderful, and scary thing, especially when I’m leaving you in someone else’s care.
Luckily it’s all turned out okay so far. We had a few rough days at the beginning of the year, but your teachers were wonderful. They saw your heart through the naughtiness. And, wow, how it shines.
You have grown so much!
You used to be quite the spit-fire. And sometimes you still are, but the maturing you’ve gone through this last year blows me away.
You are goofy and kind and curious. You care for your baby brother and are the peanut-police on behalf of your toddler brother.
I love spending time with you. Whether we’re hiking to find a waterfall (which, in New Mexican style was more of a trickle), or just sitting and talking on our couch. I can watch your mind working in everything you do and it astounds me.
You can bet in a couple weeks I will be crying as I watch you up on the stage. But don’t worry. I’m not sad. I’m just SO proud. You made me a mom. We started this journey together.