My Achy, Breaky Heart

Tomorrow is my 5^th grader’s Learning Celebration/Graduation.  I can’t believe she is done with elementary school!  She has had a hard year and is so excited to be done with school and to move on to middle school and I am glad for her.  She is anxious by nature and I am glad to see her looking forward to a change rather than worrying about it.  Lately, she has had to dress up for activities at school and I am stunned by how tall and grown up she looks.  She looks much older than 11 and that has been an eye-opener.  I have also learned never to shop for clothes with her at the same time.  Ugh. 

A sweet note I had to save

We were talking the other night about how she and the 3^rd grader will be in different schools next year and the more we talked, the sadder he got.  She has been his constant companion for his entire school career.  Finally, near tears he said “I can’t talk about this anymore; it is making me feel fragile.”  To be honest, I am feeling fragile about the whole thing too.  I like her in grade school, among friends I know and the parents I know.  I like that she is well cared for and has a good group of friends and that they all treat each other well.  I am dreading the shifting of friends and activities as these kids branch out to find themselves and grow.  Blah!  The drama of “she is my friend, she isn’t my friend, she said, I said, I think she said”.  My tender-hearted girl is in for a wallop, I know it and it makes me sad.  I just want to tell her that friends will disappoint you, that boys at this age are not worth worrying about or EVER waiting at home for them to call.  I want her to apply herself and to be passionate about something.  I want her to continue to be so kind people remark on it and I get to tell them that kindness, like height, seems to skip a generation.  I want her to remain the person who befriends the new kids.  I want to her to be self-confident.  I want to tell her not to worry about being cool; no one is cool right now.   I want her to just be herself, because she is so amazing.  She is kind, she is beautiful, she is smart, she is funny and she is interesting.  She relays a story with so much enthusiasm and emotion you feel like you were there too.  She loves children and animals and they love her back. 

Best work, ever.

I have this slide show of her going through my head as I think about her heading to middle school and it makes me feel so happy/sad.  I see her as a newborn when I held her and thought: “This.  THIS is what I want to do for the rest of my life.”  Or at age 2 throwing a fit at Target that was so lengthy and loud in its duration that a woman came up to me and said “Don’t worry, this really does pass.”  Or at age 4, singing “Go Tell it on the Mountain” so exuberantly in the Preschool Christmas Program, that the man in front of me turned around and said “It’s been told!”  There she is at 5, running, skipping, leaping, and galloping all the way to kindergarten.  Or at 6, reading her big chapter books, Hank the Cowdog almost exclusively.  Second grade, trying to be so brave while changing schools and looking out for her brother.  Braces and braids and the last year she would ever wear skorts.  Third grade and Girl Scout vests, DI tournaments and giggling, SO much giggling with girlfriends.  Fourth grade and zip up sweatshirts despite the heat to hide her changing body.  Fifth grade, a hard year – slumped shoulders, angry eyes, sad faces, angst written all over her.  And now, at the end, of fifth grade, taller than me, smiling so that her eyes shine, she gets ready to step into this next chapter of her life while I am trying to hold onto her childhood with one hand and help guide her into her teen years with the other.  When they are little, you hold their hands to steady them or to keep them on the right path or to encourage them to keep moving and you are always a little bit in front of them.  Now I feel like it is her hand that is one step ahead of me and that I better run to catch it.