Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Dear Gemma,

You. There are a lot of good things about you, like how beautiful your hair is, or how much fun it is to have you help me, or how wonderful your robot obsession is. There are also a few not-as-good things about you, like your stubbornness or bossiness. But I suppose I should focus on the good stuff for now, even though you just came out of your room after crying for 10 minutes because Ainsleigh didn't want to play with you any more after playing with you for an hour.

I love that your hair is long and that you love it that way. You don't cry enough about the tangles to warrant a haircut, and that would probably be a fate worse than death in your eyes, anyway. So it stays long and I have fun brushing (usually) and styling it (sometimes).

This year you have not only learned your letters (well, you might have already known them), but are learning to read. A few days ago you finished reading the next BOB book and, although you had stumbled on a few words, when you got to the end, you slammed it shut and crowed, "Nailed it!" Your brother and sister are constant cheerleaders and they give you an almost unhealthy level of self-confidence.

You are a stubborn one. With walking, you weren't about to do it until you were good and ready. Same goes for swimming. Despite repeated attempts of mine to get you to put your face in the water, you weren't having it. I signed you up for swim lessons, and now you're putting your face in and jumping in from the side and doing arm strokes. Amazing.
I love how much you still love robots. Any time one pops up in a book or on a show, you go crazy for it. I love that despite how girly you are, you put aside the pretty pink pajamas in favor of the blue and orange ones because they had a robot on them. I love that you have been planning your fifth birthday party for several months already and have invited many strangers at the dog park to your "Robot cupcake sprinkles party."

Going back to that self-confidence level, I'm both proud and worried at how you approach strangers. You are 100% sure that the 50-something year old man definitely wants to hear about your dream or what you did at school. And yet, when it comes to other kids, you can be a real brat. You'll fold your arms and scowl at them when they haven't done anything. I'm not sure what your thought process is here, but it really bugs me. Lighten up, will you?! Please don't be the mean girl. Please.

I wonder if part of it is because of the brat on the other soccer team of your first game? Because she called you a baby? And said your team was a bunch of losers? Which is stupid because your team was winning like 8-0, but whatever. Since then, you've made several references to, "If someone laughs at me...," or "If someone calls me a baby..." and I wonder if this will affect you long term. I tried to tell you the other day that nobody would laugh at you because would you laugh at someone else and your response was, "Well, if they looked funny I would." Sigh. I suppose that's a truthful response, but considering the situation, it wasn't the answer I was going for.
You're still a cuddlebug, though. You love hugs and kisses and when I stroke your arms or legs. Lately, you've been particularly enamored with kissing me on the cheek. You do this about 20 times at church (even during prayers) and about that much when I'm reading to you. I don't think I'm complaining. Maybe I will if you do it while I'm driving.

This year you have loved learning about the planets and stars from Daddy. He lays on your bed, playing a song on his phone while you look at his star app and pick out the planets. I love driving in the evening with you and hearing you say, "That's Venus!" I don't know if you're right half the time, but once I checked and you were right, so I choose to believe you.

Someone asked me if you were ready for kindergarten. I had to catch myself. I wanted to say, "No," but then realized that was more about me being ready than you. I have tried to set aside time each day to cuddle you. A couple days ago, I tucked you in at night and then laid there talking to you, holding Ducky's foot to my lips like you always do. As I got up to leave the room, you said, "Good night, Mom. Oh, and by the way, thanks for cuddling with me." I don't know if it was the gratitude or the "by the way," but I had to chuckle. You have no idea that I will cuddle you for the rest of your life if you let me.



Becca said...

Oh I just love these posts. Makes me so excited about being a mom one day. Maybe I can copy you and do the same for my kids?!