Dear Stelly,

This week, you turned 5. Five. Years. Old.

It is exciting, nostalgic, almost surreal to realize that it has come this far this quickly. I don’t want to be the cliché mom who tells you how it all went by so fast, but IT ALL WENT BY SO FAST! I am torn between missing your tiny little fingers & nuzzle-riffic bald head, and being excited that you and I can sort out an emotional upheaval by talking about our feelings. It is so easy to get caught up in wishing through some of the tough stages (cough, your brother right now), and being able to appreciate the great things despite the chaos. It has taken me the better part of 5 years to be able to put this into practice, but I am also in the great position of realizing that your challenging moments these days are manageable and understood and realistic. I guess what I am trying to say, Stella, is that you have rounded the bend between todder/girl to full on girl. And it escapes words to relate how amazingly awesome that is.

So, about Kindergarten. This year we decided that you are going to wait the extra year, and officially become a member of the class of 2022. Although this was a difficult decision to make, we realized in the end that it had its fair share of upsides. First and foremost it will give us that whole extra year to replenish all of the college tuition we have heretofore squandered on beer and fancy shoes. And even though we explored all of our options, even going so far as to have you evaluated at the school you will eventually be attending, my gut has always told me to wait. What is the rush? I just can’t reconcile in my mind how being catapulted into college a year earlier could be considered some kind of blessing. Oh, and if you can’t tell from my subtle references here: you are going to college, even if we have to sell your father’s blood to do it.

And speaking of educational prowess, this is officially the year you began reading – and are able to do it with frightfully increasing ease. Although this is primarily an issue I find positive and exciting, it is also making my job a bit harder, as noted when I try to paraphrase books or shield your sweet young eyes from the inappropriate terminology and concepts included in the average greeting card. It is becoming more difficult to get anything past you these days. You listen more intently and absorb the world around you like a gigantic reef sponge. I have to watch everything from the words I say to the songs I listen to. And although your writing skills are improving daily (recent quote: “hey mom, remember when I was three and I used to make my A like a Q?”) your writing still does resemble that of the average ransom note, with letters all cattywhompus across the page, and an eclectic mix of upper and lower case typography.

This would be the part where I discuss those things that irrefutably qualify you as your father’s daughter. Don’t get me wrong, your brother will defniitely be the one writing the book on what it means to be Mr. Doorknob Toucher, Jr., however you have inherited many of the exquisitely profound qualities that make it undeniably clear that your father gifted unto you a healthy dose of DNA. There is the obvious physiology – including height and cheeks and athletic prowess (you started soccer this year and rocked it), but there is also the ability to see and think and understand. Your conception and interpretation of numbers and logic are constantly baffling me. I know adults who can’t tabulate with your speed and accuracy. Girls aren’t good at math, my ass.

Which leads me to our relationship. Let me just get this out there right now: the things that drive me the craziest about you are the things that I can most closely identify with my own personality. There. I said it. No, I am not trying to take some demented sort of credit for this, or tell you how you are just like me but rather, I have come to the harsh reality that each and every time you do something outrageous and emotional and instinctive and reactionary I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE FEELING. All those times that your exuberance overrides your rational response? Been there. All those times I have asked you, “why did you do that?” I ALREADY KNOW THE ANSWER. But this is also my angle. My ability to understand you and do everything in my power to make you understand that I understand. Because Stella, I really do.

You are growing into the most cool and unique and completely typical kid I know. You possess an equal affection for the gross and scientific as you do for the frilly and pink. Your 5th birthday party was a healthy dose of Princess with a side helping of turtles. You put malt vinegar on your corndogs and insist that the crust be cut off your sandwiches. You buckle yourself in and wash your own hair, but can’t manage to gather the courage to go to the bathroom by yourself. Your duplicity is what I find to be one of your most charming qualities because it shows me that you aren’t afraid to just be you. And as a mom, I couldn’t wish for anything more.

Happy birthday, sweet girl.
Love,
Mom