Sometimes I call you my baby girl, and you rightly respond, “but I am not a baby!” (while rolling your eyes in a VERY unbaby way), and I equally rightly respond “but you will ALWAYS be MY baby”.
That pretty much sums it up. You are this little spitfire of a human – precocious beyond belief, and yet you are my only daughter, and even if only figuratively, I will always be there to hold you.
This year saw the start of elementary school. There were nerves (mine) and anxiety (mine) and excitement (yours). And while you may have also had some reservations about a brand new place with brand new people, you walked right in and rocked it.
Nevertheless, despite your rocking it, it wasn’t long before I started worrying that perhaps this awesome language immersion program might be too hard, and asking too much of you. I mean, none of us speak Spanish, and you are receiving 50% of your instruction in Spanish, and what would it be like if ½ of the time someone spoke to me during the day it was in a language I did not understand??? – that would be IMPOSSIBLY hard, I would freak out and feel like I was failing and my brain would be in a constant loop of self-doubt!
How could I do this to you? You are so brilliant!
I immediately worried we should pull you out so that you could be in a “regular” class where it would be easier. I scheduled conferences, wrung my hands, stayed up at night. And yet, when I asked you how school was going, you were like “great!” and when I asked how it was learning in another language, you seemed to like it – genuinely like it. It was bewildering to me for a while, until I realized that, believe it or not, you are NOT me, and the things that give me anxiety, nerves and insomnia are things you can roll with, adapt to and embrace.
Once again, Daphne, I find myself in awe of you.
Another example – we had your first at-our-house birthday party this year. It was a spa party, with 9 other little girls. We had a relaxation station, and stations to make your own face mask or accessories, or get you make up, nails or hair done. I was highly anxious before and during, worrying about how we would spend all 120 minutes, and how I would find something to talk to the other moms about during any “down” time, and hoping I wasn’t noticeably sweating.
You were the center of the action, and right in your element.
I looked at you and wondered if we were even related. Oh, to be so cool!
You have grown into this little lady – you are tall and lean, and so incredibly beautiful. Your dimple remains lethal, your eyes sparkle with mischief.
You have a strong sense of fashion. Each night you thoughtfully select what you will wear the next day. And thank goodness we do this the night before, because if you pick a shirt, and then can’t find the pants you have in mind, we cannot sub in some other (completely fine) pants – OH NO! we must go back to square one, and rethink the whole thing.
You are an avid reader, and knew pretty much all the kinder sight words before stepping foot in the school. And now you are a bilingual reader, saying your Spanish sight words with the right pronunciation and, even to my layperson ears, a ridiculously accurate Spanish accent. It is both really remarkable and ADORABLE.
You are oh so very “girly” right now – all sequins and play make-up and shopkins.
And you are remarkably tomboy right now – never wearing dresses, digging in mud and hanging with your brother.
(According to the world) you are my mini-me, and yet nothing like me.
You are barbies and football.
You are constantly crawling in my lap and never wanting to hold my hand.
You are “I love yous” and (mostly goodnatured) eyerolls.
I couldn’t have imagined you in my wildest dreams, and yet, I get to raise you.
And so, while I can’t imagine how it could be, I hope this year is even better than last, and I am so glad to be along for the ride.
