March 10, 2005
Annie is now five and a half. As I left kindergarten this morning, I got a kiss on the cheek, an "I love you", and she was off to play with her friends. It reminded me of something I've been fond of saying: every stage she goes through is better than the last. Granted, we have a ways to go before the teenage years. I hope I still believe that it is a good stage!
God has an interesting way of encouraging the next level of development, even though there are new fears everytime a child's degree of freedom is extended. When she first started trying to walk, I'd hold her hands and she would walk around... and around... and out... and back again. My back was killing me. I'm about 6'4", and she was less than three feet tall. I had to stoop a lot, and couldn't wait for her to start doing this on her own. Of course, my initial reaction is that she's going to fall a lot, is going to start getting into things she shouldn't, etc. But the back pain provided a reason to get over those fears.
I figure when she starts driving it will be the same. I'll be so sick and tired of driving her around all the time, I'll be glad she can drive herself. And I'll have to temper my fear everytime she goes out that she'll get hit on the road, or lose control on the curvy roads... Ok, I'd better stop thinking about that right now. I have ten more years...
As we've gone through our stages, though, I do find a warm sense of nostalgia for her early years. I am proud of her independence and adaptability, but miss being needed as much. I remember getting her out of her crib, wrapping her in a blanket, and sitting on the deck to watch the sun rise. She slept through it as often as not, but there was none of this "five more minutes!" when I got her up. When I look at her there is a shimmering of images as I see the person she is, the person she is becoming, and the person she used to be. I see her eating her cake on her first birthday. She had cake all over her.... except for one of her hands, which she stuck in Soren's mouth to be cleaned. I gave her a bath, let out the water, refilled the tub, and bathed her all over again.
I see the little girl who, although she could barely walk, would get up and dance to the music from Law and Order, and get upset when it was over. There's also the girl that would cry when I left her at daycare (which resulted in me crying when I left daycare). The excited kindergartner on her first day of school. The crying baby that I used to soothe in the winter by taking her outside to watch the trees dance for her in the wind... And now, the girl who confidently says good-bye as she begins her school day.
In the jumble of thoughts and images about her growing up, though, I think I am still most fond of when she was still small enough to comfortably fit in the crook of my arm. Granted, she still likes to snuggle in my lap sometimes, but she has a tendency to grab me in uncomfortable ways sometimes. Yes, I still have some chest hair left.
I won't say I miss the way she used to talk, but it was very sweet (no backtalk). I love the way she laughs now, which she does a lot. But, there was something that made you just want to drop everything and snuggle with her when she would laugh or when she said bye to me.
Pardon my reminiscing, we now return you to the present.
Weeds have nothing on growing children
God has an interesting way of encouraging the next level of development, even though there are new fears everytime a child's degree of freedom is extended. When she first started trying to walk, I'd hold her hands and she would walk around... and around... and out... and back again. My back was killing me. I'm about 6'4", and she was less than three feet tall. I had to stoop a lot, and couldn't wait for her to start doing this on her own. Of course, my initial reaction is that she's going to fall a lot, is going to start getting into things she shouldn't, etc. But the back pain provided a reason to get over those fears.
I figure when she starts driving it will be the same. I'll be so sick and tired of driving her around all the time, I'll be glad she can drive herself. And I'll have to temper my fear everytime she goes out that she'll get hit on the road, or lose control on the curvy roads... Ok, I'd better stop thinking about that right now. I have ten more years...
As we've gone through our stages, though, I do find a warm sense of nostalgia for her early years. I am proud of her independence and adaptability, but miss being needed as much. I remember getting her out of her crib, wrapping her in a blanket, and sitting on the deck to watch the sun rise. She slept through it as often as not, but there was none of this "five more minutes!" when I got her up. When I look at her there is a shimmering of images as I see the person she is, the person she is becoming, and the person she used to be. I see her eating her cake on her first birthday. She had cake all over her.... except for one of her hands, which she stuck in Soren's mouth to be cleaned. I gave her a bath, let out the water, refilled the tub, and bathed her all over again.
I see the little girl who, although she could barely walk, would get up and dance to the music from Law and Order, and get upset when it was over. There's also the girl that would cry when I left her at daycare (which resulted in me crying when I left daycare). The excited kindergartner on her first day of school. The crying baby that I used to soothe in the winter by taking her outside to watch the trees dance for her in the wind... And now, the girl who confidently says good-bye as she begins her school day.
In the jumble of thoughts and images about her growing up, though, I think I am still most fond of when she was still small enough to comfortably fit in the crook of my arm. Granted, she still likes to snuggle in my lap sometimes, but she has a tendency to grab me in uncomfortable ways sometimes. Yes, I still have some chest hair left.
I won't say I miss the way she used to talk, but it was very sweet (no backtalk). I love the way she laughs now, which she does a lot. But, there was something that made you just want to drop everything and snuggle with her when she would laugh or when she said bye to me.
Pardon my reminiscing, we now return you to the present.
Weeds have nothing on growing children