In November, my daughter went through the Target wish catalogue and slowly chose one or two things she wanted, and then she got on a roll and started putting stickers beside almost everything. She asked if she could help decorate the house for Christmas, and to keep my sanity I sent her to help my husband put up a garland on our railing.
The tree was mostly done when she came back to help me, and I gave her some snowflakes to spread around randomly on the tree, she again stared off slowly. A few minutes later, I was finding snowflakes bunched on the same branches and all in a concentrated tiny section. The perfectionist in me twitched as I asked her if she could see anything she could change up and she replied ‘no’ with a big smile.
This year, I am seeing life through the eyes of my 5 year old. I am continuing to educate myself to try to provide her with what she needs as she takes big leaps on her journey.
She started kindergarten this past fall and I have watched her grow in confidence as she becomes comfortable in that space. I have had her home on many days as her body builds up a stronger immune system by battling through multiple shared little kid germs.
After-school pick ups have ranged from ‘nothing’ and ‘I don’t know’ for 30 minutes, to non-stop stories of the day’s adventures. I’ve seen post-school dry clothes, to soaked socks, clean clothes, or a tear stained face and a sand filled head of hair.
Some days she talks about walks with classmates during recess or, at times, she sits by herself watching other kids play. After seeing other kids, she tried the ‘scary spinning thing’ (merry-go-round), so very proud to tell me she did it even though she was scared.
I see hints of bravery, and her reports card talks about how she raises her hand and shares in class. This is the same girl who, at times, will still refuse to detach herself from my leg in certain social situations. I treasure her trust in me; there are no words for knowing that my daughter believes I can be the person who will give her wings.
My dream is one where she doesn’t know fear to the point of it crippling her. Fear is an emotion that can be useful, but if you carry it in abundance it is a robber.
I do not want her to let the waves of it take over to the point that normal nervousness becomes avoidance. In my younger years, I made so many choices controlled by fear that I missed out on many opportunities that could have been wonderful. I sat comfortable in relief, but acutely aware of regret.
Fear makes things bigger than they are; it takes your breath and steals your dreams, fear whispers lies.
I have the ability to speak into her life and spirit, and that honour is not lost on me. Her Haitian mother trusted that someone out there would be the mother she could not be.
My heart, despite typical hair-raising moments of parenting, knows gratefulness. I want my words to never be flippant; she knows my humour and joy while never questioning the seriousness of how deeply invested I am. I hope to guide, and teach her so inevitably she has the confidence to make her own choices.
My girl has such a sensitive heart; she listens to you and watches everything around her. She takes in and mulls over everything she sees and hears. It amazes me how she tries to carry what she has read, or seen on TV over into life, finding parallels in her own little world.
I hear her repeating what I have said to her, to her toys, trying to cheer them on. I realize what an impact we have, how what we say and do can empower or deflate these little ones. There will come a day when what we do as parent’s will seem to have little to no impact on our children, but I believe we are always planting seeds that could be sown later.
This is the first year I haven’t been able to think of something I want for Christmas, because I am experiencing it though her.
My little girl was asked to write a letter to Santa at school, and she asked for a waffle maker – as a family gift.
As we near Christmas, she has discovered what it means to us as a family and not what she can get out of it for herself. She talks about how fun it was to put up decorations, and what next Christmas will look like for us. Her traditions continue with her love for reading “How the Grinch Stole Christmas.” New ones form as she learns the joy of opening each new door on her Lego advent calendar.
I feel the same joy she does in all the little things that look and sound like Christmas, and I will strive to put perfection aside while continuing to witness life through the eyes of a gift, my child, that none other could compare to.