Let's be honest. There's so much I can say about you re: the seemingly short amount of time you've lived on this planet. But you've accomplished so much in your little life that I am in awe of you every single day. You're an expert at this whole "life" thing, and I'm not sure when exactly it happened that you became the teacher and I the pupil... probably somewhere around the time you started screaming bloody, piercing murder at about 3 weeks old. Lesson #1 - Humility/Patience.
You are my little rule-follower. It is very important to you that things are done the right way. I'm not sure if that's just who you are or if it's coupled with you being the oldest child or if I'm to blame because I am constantly taking advantage of the fact that you feel the need to obey at all times. Probably a lovely balance of the three. The other day, you were playing a board game with your little sister as I was making dinner, and I could hear you getting increasingly frustrated as she commenced making chaos out of said game. I could hear the tears building up in between every, "CC, no! That's not how you play!" I called you over to me, unsure of exactly what to say. I appreciate your desire to do things "right." But your sister is 3. And she does things with 3-year-old rules. And the anxiety you were developing at that moment was just too much for someone of your petite stature. I tried to explain to you an appreciation for your desire to always follow the rules and do things as you see they should be, but then I mentioned that there are some things in life we have to let slide. We have to learn to loosen up a little - give up some of the control - especially when we are commingling with toddlers. You seemed to understand. But who had learned the lesson, really? Again - me.
You are an incredibly smart girl. At the recent kindergarten awards' assembly, there were 6 awards given out, of which you received 5 (the one you didn't get was "knows how to tie shoes." Let's be honest - is that really something they need an award for? I'm to blame. Your shoes have been Velcro-only for years). I admit feeling a great source of pride every time your name was called. I don't take the credit, though. You're just smart. I haven't done anything extreme or intense to aide you in your learning other than read to you, try not to ignore your questions, and the occasional moment where I forget you're a child and talk to you like a full-on adult. There were definitely some beaming moments for me the next few days at school drop-off when other parents approached me with, "Is there any award your daughter didn't get?" at which I would "humbly" reply: "She can't tie her shoes." [insert feigned-complacency shrug here] Your homework yesterday was a reading assignment. You blazed through the fact that "Nan and Pat ran and ran." Of course you did, seeing as how, the night before, you sounded out the words "enormous" and "generosity" without a hitch at bedtime. C'mon, now.
They'll be testing you next month for the GATE program. I'm not worried. In fact, I haven't even told you. I'll just let you think it's another one of those random state tests they make you take every couple of months. I'm glad you're so smart. I prided myself on that, admittedly, when I was growing up and not feeling up to par in the looks' department (which is not your problem in the least). But I worry about the pressure you already place on yourself. When you do well, I praise you. When you don't (which rarely, if ever, happens) I try to make as little of it as possible. Besides, I have bigger things to worry about with you...
... like the fact that I have had 4 mothers in the last 2 weeks tell me that their sons mention you at home as their favorite girl at school. You are in KINDERGARTEN, for crying out loud! Boys should not already be "mentioning" you. And definitely not FOUR boys! You are beautiful, I know this. You are beautiful and friendly and funny and... goshdanggit!... how do I rein all of this in?! I, of course, would hate to stifle any of it. But at the same time, I am not prepared for the whirlwind that the force you are will stir. I thank God every day for the amazing little human and package that you are. And I pray to God every day that you will survive what this ill-intentioned world thinks it wants to do with that. I will have to do everything in my power to instill in you a drive to please God that will match no other so that you will be able to "overcome" these strengths and be someone who, despite being so blessed, knows who she is and where all those blessings come from.
You are so amazing with your little sister. And you are so excited for the coming of another. I have anxiety, admittedly, about adding a third child to this crazy family, but, believe it or not, one of the only things that brings me peace of mind is your existence. Ironically, it was your colic that was the cause of my PTSD, which was also a huge contributing factor to my PPD after Cecily was born. But now that I know all of this, you will also be my biggest help. You are always so willing to do as I ask and you are amazing with babies and you are so patient with that little in-house tornado we call CCLemon. I'll do my best to remember that you are only 6, and try not to ask too much of you.
There are multiple times I have to say to you, "Malia? Don't boss your sister!" and then I have to stop myself as I realize it's my fault you do so. I am constantly asking you to get things for her and do things for her, and I even occasionally ask you to tell her what not to do. And then there are those moments you take initiative and I lecture you for it. Talk about mixed signals! I'll work on asking less of you. It's just so hard when, despite your <25th percentile stature, you are such a capable child. You are teeny-tiny in size, but you are ginormous in accomplishment, capability, and most importantly, love. I have yet to come across a more forgiving child than you.
I love you, Malia Renee. And even though there are days that the smallest upheaval brings you to, what can seem like unnecessary and, inconsolable tears, you are pure peace of mind for me. Peace of mind because, despite my many flaws, and despite your being the oldest child on whom I make the most mistakes, you are growing up to be so amazing.
And that's reassuring.
Love, Mommy
You are my little rule-follower. It is very important to you that things are done the right way. I'm not sure if that's just who you are or if it's coupled with you being the oldest child or if I'm to blame because I am constantly taking advantage of the fact that you feel the need to obey at all times. Probably a lovely balance of the three. The other day, you were playing a board game with your little sister as I was making dinner, and I could hear you getting increasingly frustrated as she commenced making chaos out of said game. I could hear the tears building up in between every, "CC, no! That's not how you play!" I called you over to me, unsure of exactly what to say. I appreciate your desire to do things "right." But your sister is 3. And she does things with 3-year-old rules. And the anxiety you were developing at that moment was just too much for someone of your petite stature. I tried to explain to you an appreciation for your desire to always follow the rules and do things as you see they should be, but then I mentioned that there are some things in life we have to let slide. We have to learn to loosen up a little - give up some of the control - especially when we are commingling with toddlers. You seemed to understand. But who had learned the lesson, really? Again - me.
You are an incredibly smart girl. At the recent kindergarten awards' assembly, there were 6 awards given out, of which you received 5 (the one you didn't get was "knows how to tie shoes." Let's be honest - is that really something they need an award for? I'm to blame. Your shoes have been Velcro-only for years). I admit feeling a great source of pride every time your name was called. I don't take the credit, though. You're just smart. I haven't done anything extreme or intense to aide you in your learning other than read to you, try not to ignore your questions, and the occasional moment where I forget you're a child and talk to you like a full-on adult. There were definitely some beaming moments for me the next few days at school drop-off when other parents approached me with, "Is there any award your daughter didn't get?" at which I would "humbly" reply: "She can't tie her shoes." [insert feigned-complacency shrug here] Your homework yesterday was a reading assignment. You blazed through the fact that "Nan and Pat ran and ran." Of course you did, seeing as how, the night before, you sounded out the words "enormous" and "generosity" without a hitch at bedtime. C'mon, now.
They'll be testing you next month for the GATE program. I'm not worried. In fact, I haven't even told you. I'll just let you think it's another one of those random state tests they make you take every couple of months. I'm glad you're so smart. I prided myself on that, admittedly, when I was growing up and not feeling up to par in the looks' department (which is not your problem in the least). But I worry about the pressure you already place on yourself. When you do well, I praise you. When you don't (which rarely, if ever, happens) I try to make as little of it as possible. Besides, I have bigger things to worry about with you...
... like the fact that I have had 4 mothers in the last 2 weeks tell me that their sons mention you at home as their favorite girl at school. You are in KINDERGARTEN, for crying out loud! Boys should not already be "mentioning" you. And definitely not FOUR boys! You are beautiful, I know this. You are beautiful and friendly and funny and... goshdanggit!... how do I rein all of this in?! I, of course, would hate to stifle any of it. But at the same time, I am not prepared for the whirlwind that the force you are will stir. I thank God every day for the amazing little human and package that you are. And I pray to God every day that you will survive what this ill-intentioned world thinks it wants to do with that. I will have to do everything in my power to instill in you a drive to please God that will match no other so that you will be able to "overcome" these strengths and be someone who, despite being so blessed, knows who she is and where all those blessings come from.
You are so amazing with your little sister. And you are so excited for the coming of another. I have anxiety, admittedly, about adding a third child to this crazy family, but, believe it or not, one of the only things that brings me peace of mind is your existence. Ironically, it was your colic that was the cause of my PTSD, which was also a huge contributing factor to my PPD after Cecily was born. But now that I know all of this, you will also be my biggest help. You are always so willing to do as I ask and you are amazing with babies and you are so patient with that little in-house tornado we call CCLemon. I'll do my best to remember that you are only 6, and try not to ask too much of you.
There are multiple times I have to say to you, "Malia? Don't boss your sister!" and then I have to stop myself as I realize it's my fault you do so. I am constantly asking you to get things for her and do things for her, and I even occasionally ask you to tell her what not to do. And then there are those moments you take initiative and I lecture you for it. Talk about mixed signals! I'll work on asking less of you. It's just so hard when, despite your <25th percentile stature, you are such a capable child. You are teeny-tiny in size, but you are ginormous in accomplishment, capability, and most importantly, love. I have yet to come across a more forgiving child than you.
I love you, Malia Renee. And even though there are days that the smallest upheaval brings you to, what can seem like unnecessary and, inconsolable tears, you are pure peace of mind for me. Peace of mind because, despite my many flaws, and despite your being the oldest child on whom I make the most mistakes, you are growing up to be so amazing.
And that's reassuring.
Love, Mommy
