You went to preschool this week. FREEGING PRESCHOOL! And you have taken this step with the sauce that only you possess. I can't even. I just can't believe how you conquered this.
Wait. Yes, I can. Me? I might have been a mess, sweet babe. Here's a recap, because you won't remember this even though I always will...
Yesterday you came down and proclaimed yourself ready for your first day. You looked amazing in your wig and Minnie Mouse robe. You really did. But the 90 degree heat of the day had me a bit worried about your comfort. I asked you to consider a new outfit. Something looser and more comfortable for such a hot day.
Well, I did the best I could. I'm no expert with your wild curly hair, that's for sure. But you were gracious and told me it was beautiful.
Here's the secret, little lady, you made it beautiful. Not me.
I have, up until this week, been granted a bit of a reprieve on such heart squeezing realizations that you are so very much bigger now. Until this week, I was allowed to hold you closer and for longer.
You. You are my little plum pudding. You are my smallest. My tiniest. My last. My sweet girl, you are the final piece of my heart walking around in this great big world and that stings a little. Forgive me, baby, but sometimes I want you to stay small and never grow. And now, my love, you are sharing yourself with a bigger world. And you are thrilled to be doing it, too.
You are gunning for life. It's what you do.
There is this bizarre thing that happens with mamas where we weep a bit on the inside even when we are proud as all Hell. Darling Plum, I am proud as all hell. I am. Yet still I wept. I never want you to cry. I never want you to hurt. And yesterday, for a few seconds I saw that you could hold your own. I saw it. I was damn proud of you.
Do you know that he needed you to do that? Because he did. He needed to be your big brother in that moment. He needed you to need him. It helped him to feel safe.
Part of me thinks you might have known that. You're a smart girl.
School starts at 12:30 PM sharp so, thankfully, you were ready but you had a sniffle in your nose and lots of sneezing. When I suggested that you could stay home, you were quite distressed. Who am I kidding? You were straight up pissed and told me to immediately get your hair ready for school. "I meed a poof on the side of my head. RIGHT here.", you dictated while pointing to the right side of your lil noggin.
Kind and well-meaning friends of mine might suggest that I had something to do with this. They will say that because they know it helps a mama heart to feel included and important and part of this process. It's nice, of course, to hear things like, "Way to go, mama!" or " She is ready because she is secure in your love!" or "You raised her well!" but you know what?
It's not true.
My darling girl, this is all you. You have always done your thing. You have always led with your heart and owned your life. I mean, shit, you stopped letting me dress you at 20 months old. You are YOU. You are a force in this world. You have ideas. You have "that something".
And, to be honest, I'm honored to be a part of YOU. Not the other way around. Sure you have some of my characteristics, like always needing a microphone and a stage. Or glitter. I'll go ahead and take credit for your love of sparkles. I know I have nurtured that. I can't help it.
But I can't take credit for you, babe.
Nope. That's you. I am just proud as hell to be along for your ride.
My Plum, my last baby, I love you through all the dimensions. Keep on taking on this world. I know more than anything I have ever known that you can do it. I have never been more sure of anything. Go get 'em, love.
Love. Forever. Always.
I'd kiss you if I could. xoxo, Mama Pants