My sweet bug

Oh, my little baby bug. You allow me to call you 'baby' because I've convinced you you'll always be MY baby, however mature and grown-up you look to the masses. This is aided by my showing you baby pictures of yourself and reminiscing of how head over heels I was (and am) for you. A single tear will bring a flow of compassion from you and you'll declare I can always call you baby.

Today you are six. You've already lost six teeth. Your reading has improved exponentially although you're juuust shy of reading the word 'exponentially'. You fall asleep when your head hits the pillow and you have always been a beautiful sleeper. Not that I ever watch you sleep; not that I ever lay there beside you and stroke your sleeping forehead, attempting to pray away future heartaches and pain. You still like to dress up and you still drink with your tongue out of your mouth. I wonder how long you will drink like that and how much I'll miss it when you no longer will.

You ADORE your baby brother. It is not an over-statement to say you're his little mama. While others (COUGHDADDYGRACIEMARYANDSOMETIMESMECOUGH) get frustrated by the sound of crying when he cries, you have a mama's heart and are concerned with the reason behind the crying. You do everything you can to help him feel better; not just to shut him up (although that's a looovely side-effect), but because you simply want him to be happy. Thankfully, he is generally a happy baby; he knows he is well-loved... and that's not in small part thanks to you. You call him 'gun-nuh' which I dislike. But it has grown on me. A little. It started because you made up a little song to sing to him when he cries and 'gun-nuh' is how it begins. Just watch, you'll someday be a world-famous lyricist and I'll make sure to always keep your feet on the ground by the retelling your first original medley.

It both pains and delights me to think of you growing up. The quandary of motherhood. You have so many beautiful qualities, qualities that will only grow richer as you age. There could be an entire show called 'Coco Says The Darndest Things' because you really do say the darndest things, more than any kid I know. You're such a character.

You don't listen well, which is by far your biggest flaw. This is not new (nor is your lovability!), as evidenced by last year's birthday letter, and dare I say it's gotten worse. We really need to figure out how to better parent you in this area because lately I have found myself literally yelling at you then watching your big brown eyes fill with tears. It shames and disappoints me in myself. You deserve so much better than that. You have the 'in one ear out the other' syndrome - you're not actively trying to disobey - so it's hard for me to discipline you in that manner... like I said, I need to get this figured out for both of our sakes. I get incredibly frustrated because nothing seems to work. I love you wholeheartedly and detest that I sometimes can't see past my frustrations. You are a beautiful, wonderful, perfect blessing and I'm so grateful for you. Please forgive me when I fail you. Then please forgive me when I fail you again. That's the beauty of Jesus - unlike me, He will never fail you. That's also something I pray for when I'm (not :)) watching you sleep; that you will know and love Him. He loves and forgives, even mamas who let frustrations get the better of them (THANK GOD. LITERALLY.). You are also very forgiving which comes in handy when you don't listen after I've gotten very little sleep, had a long day and before I've had a glass of wine. I wish I always felt/dealt like I do after a glass of wine. We'd all be happier. Sorry, kid, that's the kind of mother you have - one that refers to superior parenting as a direct result of wine drinking in her six year old's birthday letter. Do you in any way find that charming?

Sometimes I wonder what you'll remember from your childhood. Will you remember the way I brought cupcakes and balloons to your class? Will you remember how I let you chalk up the walls in the backyard? Will you remember the countless dinners I make or the countless times I hug and cuddle you? Will you remember oh so vividly how I sometimes lose it and yell? Will you remember the soft, kind times of correction? Will you remember the belly laughs around the dinner table? Will you remember the one time I was late picking you up from school or the hundreds of times I wasn't? Will you remember family game nights? Will you remember play dates? trips to the zoo? the park? baths? vacations? singing in the car? living room forts? being shhhhed? fights? trampoline jumping? daily swims? homework? impromptu dance-offs? laundry covered couches? bad dreams? bad dream soothing? mandatory quiet-games? brushing out tangles? toenail painting? playing in the sprinklers?

My guess is that you will remember a smattering of all of them. I hope there are infinitely more good than bad. I'm happy you have a huge chunk of your childhood to go. With the help of the good Lord and the good vino, I pledge to make it as good as I possibly can... and sometimes the 'good' will be stuff you may not like. Someday you'll understand.

Despite all of my flaws, you have a mama who truly, totally and utterly adores you. And despite the previous paragraph, nearly always loves to be around you and smiles at the thought of you. I see so SO much good in you; I always have and always will.

Happy Birthday, my special girl.

You're worth every sacrifice and then some,
Mama

PS: Stop growing up immediately. See? You never listen!