My Dearest Kindergartener...

I can't believe this day has arrived.  Oh girl, I prayed for it. 

Do you remember all of those nights that you insisted on screaming your head off and not sleeping at all?  I do.  I remember sitting next to your crib just praying for 20 minutes of silence.  Or 10.  And Lord, I'll settle for 5.  Just make it stop screaming.  Man, it'll be so much easier when she is five years old.

Or how about those potty training years?  And I do say years because it literally took me years to potty train you.  I remember mornings that you would take your diaper off and decorate your crib with the contents, and oh boy, did I wish for the day when you'd be school age.

 How about when you started telling strangers everything?  I had to tell you not to tell the grocery store cashier everything that happened to you that morning because quite frankly she really doesn't care.  And you really don't need to loudly announce to everyone in the doctors office as you touch my legs that they are prickly.  So I didn't have time to shave today.  Now everyone knows.  Thanks, kid.  Man I bet she won't do that when she is five.  (You still do.) 

When you were a baby, you used to hate to ride in the car.  You'd scream bloody murder everywhere we went.  I used to pray for green lights.  People used to claim you'd get tired and quit.  I laughed at them.  And thought... when she gets old enough to go to Kindergarten, everything will be different. 

And it is.  But in a lot of ways it is the same.  You are still my baby.  I always think of you as the child of my youth.  Because I think I was still growing up and figuring things out when you were born.  And you taught me a lot.  And you still do.  Because when you are a kid, you think your parents know it all.  And that is a lie.  They are totally making it all up as they go, and hoping it works.  You may be embarking out into the world now, but you are still my first baby.  That won't ever change.

You are still the strong, determined, spirited, dramatic child I've always known.  You'll do so well in school.  You are confident and not the least bit worried about making new friends.  I can't wait to see what you accomplish in the next year, and many years to come. 

You still like to snuggle and think that having your mom watch a movie with you, or sleeping in my bed is the best thing ever.  And I love that you still need your blankie with your thumb through the tag.

Things really are different through.  I've seen you become a little girl from a toddler, and it happened right before my eyes.  You still teach me things... and your wisdom sometimes astounds me.  I love it when I overhear you singing songs you've learned at church, or when you remind me of a truth you hold in your heart.  I like to watch you mother-hen your sister, and I smiled when you lost her for ten seconds at McDonalds and quickly organized a search party from the kids in the playplace.  And you commanded their attention, and they listened to you.  You are a born leader.  You will do great things.  I love your compassionate heart, and the way that you truly hurt when others hurt.  This is a gift.  Use it.

It sounds so cliche but it really seems like just yesterday you were marching around in the house in a pull-up and rainboots and declaring "Me do it!" about everything, and getting up so many times at night that I wanted to list you on Ebay with free shipping included.  And now you are strapping on a backpack, and heading off without me.  And though you look a little shy (I know its just momentary nerves), you don't cry or cling to me.  You proudly head off for your very first big adventure.  I'm so proud of you. 

We have a lot more adventures ahead.  Thank goodness.  Time goes way too fast.  But being your mom is the true adventure, and I'm loving every minute.  Okay, that is a lie.  I do not love it when you are nocturnal or when you tell everyone after you misbehave that I'm going to beat your booty when you get home.  But overall, I love it.  And I love you.  I'll be waiting to get you off the bus, and I can't wait to hear about your day.  And I'll probably miss you and think about what you are doing 2498573486 times until then.

Xoxo,

Momma