Dear Emma,

Kindergarten is drawing to a close for you, and what a year it has been. By the time you get to read this, I'm sure you'll have an understanding of how overly-sentimental I am and can probably predict that I've been a little emotional about you finishing Kindergarten. Because of course I am.

It wasn't an easy year for you by any stretch of the imagination. You happily existed in the comfortable bubble of your in-home daycare for the 3 years before you started elementary school, to the point that you somewhat ruled the roost. You were a headstrong, independent, confident child who could be bossy and mean at times. You tended to find the more passive kids and try to control them. Kindergarten changed that. The transition from your bubble to the classroom was exceedingly difficult for you, to the point that you threw up two days in a row within the first week of school. You had a belly ache every morning and cried and clung to me when I'd drop you off at the before-school program. I'd leave the parking lot with tears in my eyes and a knot in my stomach and I'd worry about you all day long. I even left work early a few times just to "rescue" you from school. You finally started to get used to things and the tears in the morning almost completely subsided, when the hurricane came. A week and a half of no school pushed us back about three whole weeks in regards to your adjustment. But onwards we went... and then grandpa died.

My darling girl, I know it was difficult for you to deal with grandpa dying. You were so close to him, and often told me that he was the funniest person on earth and that no one was sillier or funnier than grandpa. I think you were right. You shared such a special bond with him, one that was unique and will never be replicated. Grandpa loved you very, very much. Explaining to you that grandpa was going to die was beyond difficult for me as a mother, because I knew my words were breaking your heart and that goes against every fiber of motherhood. I want to protect you from anything that will hurt you, and yet there I was, sitting on the floor in your bedroom at daddy's house, looking you in your huge bluish-green eyes, and telling you that grandpa was going to die. You didn't understand at first, but seeing the tears in my eyes made you understand that it wasn't good. I took you for a final goodbye with him at Hospice. Only time will tell if that was a good decision or a bad one, because his appearance frightened you. On the way home that night, you asked a lot more questions about death and finally it clicked in your head what it meant. And then you started bawling your little eyes out. One of the most difficult things I've ever done, was to keep driving while your heart was breaking in the back seat. My heart was breaking too, and I just wanted to hold you but there wasn't a safe place to pull off the road. 3 days later, he passed. I came to see you at daddy's the next afternoon, and told you that grandpa had died. It took you a while to digest that information. You are too young to be able to understand your own emotions most of the time or to find the words to explain how you feel. You hit a classmate in the face in line the day before grandpa died, which was unlike you. I explained to your teacher what was transpiring and they were lenient on you, because they understood that grief is difficult for a 5-year-old to process.

So there we were... you were adjusting to the fast-paced life of kindergarten and dealing with an immense loss at such a young age. We were both in it together. And we made it through.

You amaze me, child. You have become a timid, highly sensitive, emotional child who feels the weight of the world on her shoulders but refuses to stop loving anyone. There was a girl in your class named Madison who was a bully to you (in fact, she's the one you hit in the face) and was very abrasive and controlling. I told you one day that you should try staying away from her since she was so mean, to which you replied "Madison is mean to me, but I still love her." And you do... you still love every kid you meet. Sometimes you may not like them, but you're still kind.

And you feel all the things. Every one of them. You are 37 pounds of pure emotion. I must admit, it's unfamiliar territory to me because I'm generally a bit more closed-off emotionally and function more in the realm of logic and reasoning. It's going to take some time to help you learn how to navigate your feelings without letting them control you, but we'll get there. In the meantime, I feel for you, because you being so sensitive means that you struggle a lot when you think someone doesn't like you or when I redirect you on something. You need a ton of reassurance from me after I get frustrated with you for something, to make sure that I still love you (which of course I do). But I've never known another 5-year-old to have as much empathy and compassion as you do. If you're ever in your own bubble, or angry about not getting your way, and see that you've upset me, you instantly snap back into empathy mode. Seeing me sad about grandpa passing away was difficult for you, even when you didn't fully understand what it meant for someone to die.

The fact that you ooze with empathy and compassion, struggle to adjust, and experienced a huge loss in your little life has manifested in some tics and twitches. For your sake, I hope they get better, because you are so sensitive to others' perceptions of you and I'm afraid that you'll be made fun of eventually. Kids can be so cruel. Your tics (a doctor said Tourette's) and your excessive amounts of anxiety prompted us to have you start seeing a counselor. We've been working on mindfulness with you to help you calm down a bit. You're way too stressed for a 5-year-old.

Otherwise, you are a hilarious and intelligent child who makes me laugh on my worst of days. You love making people smile and laugh. I'll often times open your backpack after school to find drawings and cards that you made me, with "I love you mommy" written on them. You also like making cards and drawings for the other important people in your life, and you thoroughly enjoy helping me whenever possible. You were recently grounded for stealing (twice) and lying, and the resulting boredom led to you asking to help me with chores. When we go to the grocery store for a couple of things, you offer to carry a bag or two so that I "don't have to do all of the hard work". Of course, your attention span for chores is pretty short, but I'll take what I can get. And you do them because you truly want to help me out. And lately you've been my number one fan, telling me that I'm the best mommy ever because I make good dinner and take such good care of you. I've been showered with tons of hugs, kisses, and cuddles. Sometimes they hurt, like when you come up behind me when I'm sitting on the edge of the couch or on the floor, and wrap your arms around me for a squeeze because you just love me so much. Except, you wrap your arms around my neck and squeeze my jugular, and I'm surprised I haven't passed out yet.

You are still waffling about what you want to do when you grow up. Most days you say you want to be a Weeki Wachee mermaid. I think you should be a nurse or a doctor, because you absolutely love to help people and make them feel better. Anytime I have a boo-boo, you offer to get me a band-aid and you really love when I give you permission to put it on me. You are apparently not afraid of blood whatsoever, because I shattered a glass bowl on my foot once and when you saw me rinsing the blood off my foot in your bathtub, you instantly became concerned and grabbed some princess bandaids for me.

For most of your kindergarten year, you were obsessed with the color purple, mermaids, and unicorns. Just after I switched your bedroom from pink flowers to purple and blue mermaids, you decided unicorns were your most favorite thing ever. Since I'm not made of money, your room has remained decorated with mermaids. You LOVE to swim, and you must be part fish. You started swimming on your own when you were only 3, without lessons, and it is still your favorite thing to do. It's the perfect summer activity for you, because it wears you out and you sleep so well. You got your first (of many, I'm sure) mermaid tail for your 5th birthday and always amaze the old folks at the pool in our apartment complex with your skills. You sometimes enjoy drawing and coloring, but it has to be on your terms. You HATE coloring for school work and often just scribble it. Your handwriting is not good, because you try to go too fast instead of taking your time. And you are still an ipad zombie whenever possible.

Your favorite food is probably still pasta with fresh chopped tomatoes and parmesan cheese (which you call shaky cheese). You also like pizza, buffalo chicken sliders, ravioli, salads, sweet potatoes, Chick-fil-a, popcorn shrimp, hot dogs, and tacos. You aren't the biggest fan of meat for the most part, and you definitely don't like onions. You'll eat almost anything that is cheese, but you have a sensitivity to dairy so we try to limit that. Carbs are your best friend. And you LOVE ice cream, candy, and Doritos.

Physically, you're teeny-tiny. Not the smallest, or even the second smallest, in your kindergarten class, but you are still comfortably in a size 5 in clothes and you're almost 6 now. You are about 37 pounds and 43.5" tall and very skinny. You have the most beautiful freckles on your face, especially the one on the 'boop' of your nose, and you're getting all kind of new little moles popping up on your body on a daily basis, it seems. Your eyes are turning more and more green (yay!) as the days pass, and you have mostly fair skin that tans easily. Your hair is a very light brown that gets bleached to dirty blonde in the sun during the summer. You love when I put your hair in a sock bun or a french braid and almost always put a headband or big flower clip in your hair before going to school or going shopping. Your sense of style is impeccable and you like to dress your best, even if we're just going to publix. But much like your mommy, you prefer to be in comfy jammies if you're just chilling at home. You somehow tend to stain every single article of clothing you wear on the first time you wear it. Oh, and you have really stinky little feet lol.

I love you more and more as each day passes, my baby girl. Being your mother has been a magical journey for me and I've grown so much as a person in order to be the best mommy I can be. We've been through a lot together already. This was the year that you gained a stepfather, which was a decision that was exceedingly important for me because it would affect you so much. So far, the two of you get along great and share a special bond. My only goals are to give you the most enriching childhood possible, and to help mold you into a successful and happy adult. I may not be able to buy you everything you want, or spend a ton of money on extra things for you, but so far you don't seem to mind beyond some temporary disappointment when you can't have a new toy every time we go to Target. Yet somehow you still manage to convince me to buy you something every time we're there. But it seems like overall, you love me as much as you do because I love you as much as I do. I can't buy your love; it seems you have the strongest bonds with those who buy you the least amount of material items. You just want people to spend time with you and be present with you. I swore I'd never get into the habit of sleeping with you, but lately I've found myself laying in your bed for 15-20 minutes at night while you drift off to sleep in my arms, because I really enjoy those moments with you. No matter how stressful my day was, or how much your 5-year-old defiance frustrated me in the evening, listening to your breathing start to deepen and feeling your little arms twitch just reminds me of how lucky I am to have you.

To my darling miracle, my spunky little ball of emotions... I love you so much, and I'm excited for the years to come as you grow and learn and we can start doing more things together. You are my whole world, and the most important thing in my life.

Love,
Mommy