Thursday, March 29, 2012

Grace - Five

Fingers, toes, senses, vowels. All things that come in fives. Now, we can add you to the mix because you are FIVE years old! Five. Maybe if I say it enough, it will cause the last 1,825 days to seem longer than 5 minutes, 5 blinks. Five.

One blink and you started walking. Two blinks and you were talking in novels. Three blinks and you learned to be compassionate. Four blinks and you were writing your name. Now, after five blinks, you are an independent, sassy, dramatic, hilarious, nurturing five year old. You have always been a handful, but now, Gracie Grace, you are indeed a WHOLE handful.

On the morning of your fifth birthday, Daddy and I woke you up singing “Happy Birthday” to you, and you greeted us with a smile and a squeal. In some ways, you have been at least five your whole life. You were an early walker, skipped right past babbling and went to conversations. At four and a half, you became a big sister again. Apparently, in Grace World, almost five years old is big enough to be your baby brother’s second mama. The other day, as I was getting ready, Reece started fussing. Like the big girl you are, you pulled him in your lap, situated him, and started singing and rocking him. He feels comforted by your arms, you sweet spirit. You have always been independent, definitely always sassy, and wise beyond your years. And, I guess that because of your maturity, I have come to expect it out of you. But, then comes along a sentence such as “I catched the ball!” or “We goed to the store” and my heart smiles remembering that maybe five isn’t so old, maybe not too mature.

Five. A mere five years ago, you became my first born, my teacher. You taught me how to juggle a baby, a telephone, a diaper bag, and several other items at the same time. You taught me that sleep is a treasure not to be taken for granted. You taught me how to give a newborn a bath, how to clip the tiniest nails I had ever seen, how to potty train. You taught me to love princesses and plastic meals of oranges, lettuce, and hotdog buns. You taught me the joy of the word “mama”. You taught me that going to work with baby food, spit up, lip gloss, or a plethora of bodily fluids on my clothes is a reminder of the most important job I will ever have. You taught me how to measure moments.

There are so many times when I should have handled something differently, done something, not done other things. So many times as a mama that I would like to revisit. But, Daddy and I must have done something right because you are one awesome five year old!

My precious girl, you are special. You are kind. You are beautiful inside and out. You matter. I want you to always remember those things. Stuff will happen. Good stuff and bad stuff, but as long as you keep being you, rely on God, and remember that Daddy and I will always be here for you, you will soar. I am so proud to be your mama.

Happy High Five, Baby!



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