Dear 5th Grader,
Eleven years ago today on a snowy Valentine’s Day afternoon, we nervously bundled all six pounds of you into a carseat and headed home from the hospital as a family of three. I’m not sure your dad has ever driven more cautiously on the interstate. We had no idea what we were getting into as new parents or how sleep would elude us for months years to come. But, we knew for sure that our lives had just changed for the better.
We blinked and you’ve somehow turned into an official “tween,” which officially makes me nervous. In my mind it was only a few months ago that you were learning to sit up:
I cannot believe how quickly even just the past five years have flown by. You’ve gone from a kindergartener to a 5th Grader in a flash. Sometimes when I’m in the classroom with your sister I can still see you sitting on that rug for circle time. What worries me is how fast the next five years may go, and I’ll soon be seeing you in the driver’s seat of a real car instead of the electric one you like to squeeze into and drive around the yard.
You’ve spent the past few years trying different sports and activities and enjoying them for the most part. But, this past year you found something that makes you truly come alive. It’s not the tennis court or the swimming pool or any of the activities I pushed. Instead it’s the dance floor. I may not understand what a relevé or an inversion is, and I will never be a great dance mom. But, I do understand how important it is to have an outlet for your energy and an interest that makes you feel stronger and braver every time you go. Dance is that for you, and I love that you’ve found it in spite of me.
You and I are so headstrong that we often clash. Firstborns tend to do that. We’re bossy and determined and absolutely must have the last word on everything. I expect more of you and have thrust you into the “oldest sister” role since you were a mere eighteen months old. I cannot count the number of times I’ve been distracted when you were trying to show me something or tell me about your day. But as much as we frustrate each other I think we also need each other in a special way. You help keep my expectations in check, and your love language of quality time reminds me that sometimes just being present and attentive to someone is enough.
You keep me humble by reminding me when it’s time for my highlights or self-tanner. Last week you told me that my preference for a more flavorful barbecue sauce is probably due to the fact that “people lose tastebuds as they get older.” Most days I can appreciate your honesty and sense of humor.
One of my biggest fears related to raising three daughters is mean girls. I’m afraid you all will be hurt by them. Some days I’m afraid you all will become them. But this past year as you’ve inched toward adolescence, I’ve seen glimmers of hope that relieve those fears. I see you forming friendships that are sincere. I see you looking out for those who are left out. I see you being quick to smile and unafraid to meet new people and try new things. Even as I make mistakes and miss opportunities to encourage you, I see you becoming more confident in who you are.
My hope for you this year is that you will grow stronger, wiser, gentler, and ever more aware of how much the Lord loves and pursues you.
And, of course, I pray you’ll always know how very much we love you.
Ashley’s middle child was born on February, Interesting that your first daughter went home from the hospital on Valentine’s Day. Swift is a word that applies to all of our children. . . .you trade the diaper stage, to more challenging days, but they are all rewarding, if frustrating and exhausting! And the Teen years are more anxiety-ridden when they begin to date and drive. I believe it was your Mother that said: ” I am stayed up on praying!” and she is right!
The years get better and better as you move on in life, and I think you will embrace them all with grace!