Goodbye, 1st Grader

And just like that, Kate the Great, you walked out the front door to your first day of 2nd grade. You wore your new, flowery Matilda Jane dress and your giant, glittery headband bow, with your sponge-curled hair and took your new Wonder Woman lunchbox from Grandma.

But before we get too far into your 2nd grade year, I need to complete the almost impossible task of capturing, in writing, my 1st grade Kate.

Let's see...where do I begin? In 1st grade, you LOVED to sing. You dressed up like little orphan Annie and sang “You’re Never Fully Dressed without a Smile” at the school variety show. You especially loved show tunes (a la Annie and Frozen), and any top 40 song you hear on the radio, happy or sad, from any decade.



You sing all the time. You sing when you’re cleaning your room, when you’re taking a shower, when you’re in the bathroom, when you’re brushing your hair. You turn questions into songs when you ask me something. You sing in the car. You sing while you play, or do puzzles, or draw pictures. With Broadway bravado, and sometimes like you’re in the opera. And you know you’re good. When I asked you if you'd like singing lessons, you proclaimed "Nah, mom. I don't need 'em."

In 1st grade, you were tender hearted and kind. You cried at ASPCA commercials, and begged me to let you send all your piggy bank money to help them save animals. You cried when you watched Edward Scissorhands, and every time you saw any character in a movie treated unfairly. Your heart feels the pain of others. It’s called compassion, and I’m so glad you have it – and that you act on it. As my Aunt Judy once said to me when I was just about your same age, I hope you never lose your little girl heart.

In 1st grade, you were also strong-willed. You rarely hesitated to tell someone if they hurt your feelings. I hope you always use your words to express how you feel, to protect your heart and the hearts of others.

In 1st grade, you learned that you loved yoga, thanks to an afterschool enrichment class with a particularly passionate teacher. You proclaimed that you want to take karate (I promise this will be the year!), declared you weren’t so crazy about lacrosse (although I’m hoping you’ll reconsider); you still say you won't play soccer (because there's “just too much running”), and you still get great joy out of baseball. Especially running the bases.

Oh, Kate, every person in the stands loves to see you run those bases. You do it like you do everything in life – enthusiastically, with your whole heart, and a giant smile – usually jumping up and down and cheering when you arrive.

I hope you keep trying new sports and testing which ones bring you joy, because I love to watch you play…anything and everything. You are strong, and fast, and whether you realize it or not, you have a natural athletic ability. I hope you’ll continue to use that ability to test and surprise yourself with all the amazing things your body and mind can do.

Your 1st grade year saw you toothless, and to your sister’s chagrin, you lost most of your teeth before she did! Dear God, I love your toothless grin! And I still cannot believe that you pulled one of your top teeth out on your own, with dental floss, and let me pull out the second one with the ol’ door trick. You’re a brave one, Kate.



In 1st grade, you made your Daddy laugh out loud every time you said “aposta,” which is your Kate-pronunciation of “supposed to.” You also made us laugh when you said we were going to “the Obama’s” for vacation, when we were going to the Bahamas. We never corrected you, because we don’t ever want those Kate pronunciations to change.

In 1st grade, you still adored Cal. You met two years ago, when on the first day of kindergarten, you proclaimed that he simply must have been a 3rd grader because he was so tall. Soon after, you declared him as your best friend, and at the end of your second year in class together, you were still eating lunch side by side and playing at recess every day. I will never forget when Cal came over for a play date, and you immediately took him to the back porch and started showing him photo albums of you as a baby, telling him your life story, while he patiently sat there, sipping on a Caprisun and waiting for you to ask him to jump on the trampoline. I love your sweet friendship and I find myself hoping that its tenderness remains as you both grow older.



As a first grader, you also still fondly remembered your pre-school best friend, Sam. You treasured your friend Oliver, and you had an innate desire to want to protect his sweet and sensitive heart.

In 1st grade you adored Grandma -- and cried every few days, at random times (but mostly at bedtime), because you missed her…even though you always see her multiple times each month. Although you started sleeping in your own bed when you were 3 years old, you at some point decided that it's less lonely to sleep smack dab between your daddy and I. So every night for the past year or more, you have brought Pillow Pet and Mousie and Teddy (and sometimes an odd assortment of additional characters) into our bed. You neatly fold Pillow Pet's bumble bee wings flat, lay your head down on top of him and ask "Momma, will you tickle my back and sing me some lullabies?" And you almost always say “I love you mommy,” as you drift off to sleep.

1st grade Kate discovered the Disney Channel (I held out as long as I could); and although I only let you watch one or two shows, you would watch back to back to back to back to back episodes of Good Luck Charlie and Girl Meets World....for days on end, if I let you.

1st grade Kate LOVED dresses. If given the choice, you would wear the same five or six dresses in rotation, ever more. The bright pink fit-and-flare. The red-white-and-blue fit-and-flare that is so short it that almost shows your bum. The purple and pink dress that you think makes you look like a teenager. Your ‘lemonade’ dress and the orange flower skirt Grandma made you.

You loved your cowboy boots, too. And Wonder Woman. You loved your hair accessories, particularly headbands. You started out 1st grade with an adorable, short bob that cradled your lovely, contagiously smiley little face; and you finished the year by asking me every few days how much longer it’d be until your hair would be as long as Ella’s.



In 1st grade, your big sister Ella is your biggest nemesis. It's Ella who elicited the majority of your eye-rolling...your most dramatic sighs. Your loudest cries about the inequities of life. But it was also for Ella that you emptied your entire piggy bank to purchase a $12 bouquet, to give her after her performance as 'a chick' in The Little Red Hen. It's also Ella with whom you will play blocks and Shopkins and ‘house’ and a million make believe games, for hours on end.

1st grade Kate loved catching lightning bugs and butterflies. Jumping on the trampoline. Devouring gummies and gushers and chocolate and any other candy you could find.

In 1st grade, you hugged me all the time. Your arms wrapped around my hips, your head rested on my belly or side, and you always said “Mama, you’re so warm!” Your little hand confidently grabbed mine when we walked across the street or in the grocery store. I love the feeling of your hand in mine, and I love how willingly and how often your hand reaches out to me. I know this hand-holding is fleeting, and I savor it.

If I'm sitting on one end of the couch, trying to work on my computer, you always want to sit right next to me, hugging my arm, rendering it impossible to type. And I hate ever having to tell you to scoot over. I wonder if you will ever know how perfectly you fit by my side and in my arms.

In 1st grade, you told me that you loved me, all the time. You kept your room tidy (perhaps because you never slept in it!) and loved to color and paint – for hours and hours. I have boxes upon boxes filled with your artwork…your rainbows and lions, your coloring book pages and stained glass windows and beautiful starry skies. I hope you always remain a confident artist, and that you always feel the kind of true, rare joy you felt as a first grader, every time you would create.

1st grade Kate was the pickiest. eater. ever. You ate waffles, blackberries or raspberries and yogurt for breakfast. Nutella and peanut butter sandwiches for lunch. And for dinner? If wasn’t noodles, grilled cheese, mac and cheese or Quorn brand chicken nuggets, it was a melt-down.



In 1st grade, you started reading chapter books, and you loved the fairy series that Grandma passed down from summers a decade ago or more , when cousins Olivia and Molly read them. During the summer, you would read your 20 minutes a day, sitting on the kitchen counter, or laying on your bedroom floor. You’d excitedly proclaim that you’d finished another chapter. I loved the look of complete pride on your face when you realized, again and again, that you could, and were, reading chapter books.

My 1st grade Kate was truly exceptional at loving and caring for younger children. You couldn't resist them. You sought them out...at the park, at the pool, at PTA meetings, at swim meets...wherever we were. You cared for them like a tiny mother. Talking to them in the sweetest of voices, saying the most encouraging things. Smiling at them and laughing with them and taking joy in every funny or sweet thing they do. You would gently touch their cheeks and talk about how badly you want to squeeze them. You would color with or play with or otherwise care for them for hours, even while other kids your age were busy playing with each other. You’re a born nurturer and protector, Kate, and I love that about you.



The summer of your 1st grade year, I watched your beautiful skin grow more golden each day, under the summer sun...and your brown hair grow beautiful streaks of blonde. You had a chocolate milk mustache the majority of the time. And an ever-present, gigantic smile that radiated joy.

While I will always fondly remember my 1st grade Kate, I’m so excited to see how your heart and mind and many talents grow in your 2nd grade year. I feel like the luckiest person in the world to have a front row seat to the greatest show on earth – seeing my Kate the Great grow and shine.

Good night, 2nd grader

Here we are. When I started writing this post, it was the beginning of the summer. "The summer of Ella and Kate, 7 and 8." And now, I sit here on the night before the first day of school, telling myself I just can't get to a single thing on tonight's 'to do' list before finally finishing this post.

Because tonight, Ella Bella, when I was putting you to sleep, you said softly, but enthusiastically, to yourself, "Goodnight, 2nd Grader." And I realized...before you wake up to your 3rd grade year, I need to capture just a little bit of the magic that was Ella Bella, my 2nd grader.



In your 2nd grade year, I watched my 'little girl' transform into more of a 'big girl.' You're not quite a tween...not yet. But you are tall and lean and strong. Once what I would've called a 'girly girl,' you now call yourself a 'sporty girl.' You're a little feminist, believing that girls can do everything and anything boys can do, and reminding me again and again of lessons about fairness that I've tried to teach you along the way. Lessons I too often forget myself.

In 2nd grade, when you asked what you should wear to a fancy dinner, I off-handedly said "I don't know honey, one of your girly dresses," and you corrected me. "Mom, do you mean one of my fancy dresses? Because 'girly' can mean sporty or fancy. There's nothing necessarily 'fancy' about being a girl."

"Touche, my smart girl," I thought. "You're right." And I thanked you for correcting me.

In 2nd grade, you discovered your love of soccer -- or, maybe better put, you discovered that you love competition on a field. You played on an all-boy baseball team last year and joined a girls' softball team this year. You loved swim team, and playing soccer at recess and chasing boys -- mostly to prove to them that you're fast, and you can catch them. In 2nd grade, without hesitation, you climbed to the top of a rope in a grown up gym -- a rope that neither I nor your Daddy can climb. You had the time of your life at Camp Mary Orton, and didn't think twice about spending the night in a tent. In 2nd grade, you discovered just how strong and fast and capable your body is. You love to use it. Your confidence with every inch of your body -- how it looks and how it works and the amazing things it can do -- fills me with joy. I hope you hold onto that confidence as you continue grow into the lovely grown-up woman I know you'll someday be.

In 2nd grade, you became a voracious reader. You sometimes read 4-5 books at one time. You read graphic novels and C.S. Lewis series and biographies on political leaders. You were perhaps most partial to books about strong female characters like Hillary Clinton and Susan B. Anthony and Helen Keller. You again wanted to be a strong female character for Halloween, and you chose Maleficent...not the evil version from the cartoon, but the brave, strong, powerful and kind Maleficent from the movie of the same name. You also love jokes and magic tricks and making people laugh.



In 2nd grade, Ella Bella, you listened. You listened to every word I said. And for now at least, my words matter to you. I know this because I hear you echo my words -- weeks and sometimes months after I say them. Like the times we've talked about what words you can use to respond to a classmate who's being unkind...and I've heard you, weeks or months later, use those exact same words to deal with a tough situation, when you don't even know that I'm listening.

In 2nd grade, I saw my own facial expressions in your face, every day. The funny ones, and the angry ones, and the exasperated ones. The sarcastic ones, and the expressions that say "are you serious?" without saying a word. And each one makes me laugh.

In 2nd grade, you developed a very strong internal barometer for fairness and social justice. When you hear or see someone in a movie or in person or on TV, doing or saying something unkind...you look at me to confirm what you feel and know in your heart. That their words or actions are wrong. And you almost always want to talk about the best way to respond to those injustices. I love that you feel that compassion. That you know that compassion is God's way of telling you to take action. And that your first response is almost always to want to use your words to intervene.

Because in 2nd grade, you grew even more confident in your voice. You know who you are and you know right from wrong and you have learned not to be afraid to use your voice to stand up for yourself, or someone else. I pray that your voice and your convictions continue to grow stronger.

In 2nd grade, you still loved hot dogs and waffles, yogurt and berries. But you also learned to love shrimp, even shrimp scampi. And you won't complain if we ask you to eat chicken or steak. You'll try new foods without complaining...with a sincere interest and open-mindedness that I would never have thought possible just a year ago.

In 2nd grade, you finally lost some teeth -- and you were brave enough to let me pull some out with the good ol' door trick. You adored and doted on your younger cousins Camden and Kenley, Greyson and Lachlan. And you loved every second you got to spend with your older ones, too. You loved sewing with your Nana and visits with Gramps and Grammy and being spoiled and doted on by your Grandma and Papa.

In 2nd grade, you became cool and confident. I watch you in school, and you are a leader. You have an easy way about you. You are comfortable in your own skin. You like who you are. I am grateful.

In 2nd grade, you became even more of a sparkling conversationalist. You can talk to your grandparents on the phone for an hour. You can discuss current events, or history, or your favorite book, or what's going on in your life. And you already know to ask questions so you can learn what's going on in the lives of others, too.

In 2nd grade, you shed (most) of your interest in hairbows and frilly dresses. You like Under Armour sweatshirts and asked for "tall socks" (like the boys wear), and fell in love with your white, Converse high tops I got you for Christmas. You enthusiastically played a "baby chick" in the 2nd grade musical, and you cheered on your friends who joined you on stage.



In 2nd grade, you were a good friend. On the last day of school, you brought home an award from Mrs. Burmester. It said "Kindest encourager." My heart filled with a mix of pride and joy and I thought to myself...there simply isn't any award on earth I'd rather my girl earn. Not just in 2nd grade. But in life. Mrs. Burmester also wrote "Enthusiastic learner!" on the award -- because she saw, like I did, that you went to school every single day with a big appetite to be smarter than you were the day before.

In 2nd grade, you loved your American Girl dolls, your shopkins, your princess barbie dolls, your doll house, and playing with teeny tiny things in your room. You loved carrying bags -- backpacks, shoulder bags, messenger bags -- and filling them up with small but random things you might need -- like pencils and journals, a random assortment of small toys and sunglasses. You happily played in your room, alone, for hours on end...creating little worlds in its corners...worlds that only you understand. You played with your friends for hours at a time, too. You've grown more diplomatic with time, but in 2nd grade, you still loved to be the director...the one in charge of determining the game that'll be played. I pray that I, and your teachers, and the other grow ups in your life, continue to nurture that leader in you, even as we also remind you that sometimes, being a leader means working extra hard to carve out roles so everyone can play, and everyone can shine.

In 2nd grade, you still adore your Poodle. Just today, you brought him to the movies and to our 'back to school dinner.' And you sleep with him every night. Your art teacher Miss Koontz says you managed to work Poodle into almost every single art project in your 2nd grade year. (Just as you did the two previous years.) And you still bring him most places we go. You pack a suitcase of seasonally appropriate clothes for him when we go on vacation, and whether it's Halloween or Christmas Day or a baseball game, you always dress him for the occasion. You are such a responsible pet owner and best friend. When we went to the Chicago Field Museum in your 2nd grade year, it was you who realized that we had misplaced Poodle, and it was you who calmly ran by my side to search for him, before we (GRATEFULLY!) found him in coat check, moments before the museum closed for the night.

In 2nd grade, you adored your home. When we briefly considered moving to a house just down the street, you insisted that we promise never to move, because you love your house just the way it is and you love sharing your backyard with your best friend Lily. You reminded me that to want something 'bigger' or 'fancier' is silly. Because in every way, we already have everything we need, right here, right now.

My precious girl, your 2nd grade year was amazing and inspiring and beautiful and funny and, like you...a dream come true. I thank God for letting me have this gift of being your momma. And I can't wait to see the you that 3rd grade shows me.