Thursday, May 29, 2014

It was the best of ages, it was the worst of ages

Five was an all-encompassing age.

It was learning to read slowly, then click, devouring words. 

It was opinions.

Her Big Five
It was pure gratitude, it was not knowing it was possible for a child to be so delighted. It was unsolicited thank yous.  

It was abysmal ingratitude, going to bed wailing an hour after getting a special present or not getting her way.

It was words like "unfortunately."  It was "calepittar" still going strong.

It was begging for high heels and grown-up make-up. It was scraped knees and dirty fingernails. 

It was freckles on her face, and I wanted to kiss them all.
It was wearing these yard sale boots every. single. day.

 It was the dubious question every day of whether she looked particularly big or particularly small. 

It was conversations with her friends. Real conversations. 
It was goofball, it was grace.

It was daily outfit wars, it was can I let my belly show, can I get my hair cut short like Nera’s.

It was begging to sleep up in Theo's bunk. It was nights of them reading to each other to sleep cuddling, and nights of hysterics and someone ending up in my bed.
It was Kindergarten. It was center of the cliques in the front yard in the morning, it was tears when someone didn’t like her shoes. 

It was frustration learning a language she didn’t understand, it was breaking into random Spanish phrases at home. “No se!”

It was treating me like a celebrity when I picked her up from school.

It was, "Does it hurt when you put your eye-tacts in?"

It was being "such a girl" but a knack as "one of the boys."

It was co-ed sleepovers.

It was refusal to eat breakfast, it was that special request for cherries and plums.

It was startling manners here, astonishing disrespect there.

It was the year she finally started singing because Frozen swept the Little Girl Nation.

It was I’m not your friend anymore, it was a new sister in all her family portraits. 

It was switching from gorgeous, elaborate artistic swirls to hurried stick figures to tell a story.

It was piano lessons with Grandma.

It was good grades and mutual fondness with her teachers. It was behavior disciplinary charts and her teacher having "talks"with me.

It was "This is for you, mom. Make sure you don't lose it." with every rock and flower found on the street. It was "But this is special to me" with a cry when asked to share with friends.

It was a new love -- and talent -- for improv. It was dancing wherever and whenever she could. 

It was chess, ballet, hip hop, tap.
It was hours playing Wii with Theo, and being good at it, too. 

It was asking for help with spelling on some words, and the hilarity of the words she assumed she knew. 
It was comforting a sad or bruised friend, it was laying down the dramatics for bruises of her own.

It was spontaneous love letters to her family.

It was sounding like Bart Simpson when she laughs.

It was monthly packets of drawings and books and how-tos she wrote that she brought home from school that had us in stitches.

It was carrying the cat around for hours, and it was tears of pure betrayal if she was scratched.

It was training wheels coming off.

It was charm, it was a nickel in the jar whenever she said "penis." 

It was taking care of me when I was sick. 

It was cooking with me, it was ditching me mid-project.

It was "you sound like a real singer, mommy."

It was compassion, it was empathy, it was infuriating selfishness. 

It was contradiction, disobedience, testing us, testing herself.  

It was the color blue replacing "all the colors of the rainbow" as her favorite. 

It was changing mommy and daddy to "Mata and Tapa." And sticking with it.  

It was my big girl at Broadway shows. It was her face in daddy's chest during scary parts of movies.

It was playing Belle's Beast

It was never wanting to take this hair out.

It was growing close to her brother Clay.

It was these curls

It was a brief but intense stint with Monster High

It was the first lost tooth
It was the first day of K

It was Flower Girl Perfection.

It was her extreme comfort spending hours in the Dominican Republic making hats with this guy

It was performing

And more performing

It was preschool graduation

It was going to school like this
It was insisting on "side hair"

It was this face

It was over too soon. 


Judith said...

What a wonderful blog - it brought back memories of parenting a five year old!

Grandma IceCream said...

What an amazing tribute to Melody's fifth year of life. :)

Grandma IceCream said...

I have been so lucky to share in my beautiful granddaughter's life. Can't wait to see what "6" will bring!