{Letters To My Kids} Too Grown

Dear Ayanna,

In a little less than a month, you turn 3. So why am I writing you a birthday letter so early? Well, 1) because your mom is scatterbrained lately and wouldn’t remember her own name if she didn’t have to write it every time she wrote a check, 2) the house is quiet and I have a minute to write and 3) you do everything ahead of schedule so I figured I return the favor.

You just amaze me every day, little girl. Honestly, you do. Sometimes I catch myself talking to you like you’re a teenager, because the things that come out of your mouth have me reaching up into my brain, trying to remember was it honestly only 3 years ago that I was pregnant with you?

For instance, let’s say I give you something for dinner you don’t like.

What do most little kids say when they don’t like something? “I don’t like this.” EXACTLY MY POINT.

What do you say? “Mom, this isn’t working for me.”

“Excuse me?”

You look up at me with those big brown eyes with an expression that clearly reads, “This woman’s a moron.” You push the food around on your plate. “This isn’t working for me. This food is….old.”

“It is not old; I just got it out of the fridge.”

“Um, yes, it is. I think it’s old.”

“Ayanna, eat your dinner. Eat the salad.”

You don’t like the salad dressing I’ve selected. “This salad dressing is not working for me.”

Dee-vuh!

But I say it with love. You are so much like me that it scares me. I don’t know what I’ll do when you get to be a little older and are really capable of the eye-rolling, deep breath taking, door slamming behavior that is oh-so-typical of teenagers.

But for now you’re three and excited with the possibilities of everything. You like your preschool class and already you’re the smartest one there. Every day you come home and tell me something new. You know the months, colors, shapes, the days of the week, the alphabet, your numbers up to 20 (some days a little higher), how to spell your name AND all your classmates’ names, and unfortunately, a little ditty you like to call, “Shake your booty!”

It scares me how fast you’re growing up. Honestly, it does. It scares me because honestly, I thought I’d be much better at this motherhood thing by now. I thought I would have more patience with the chaos, more understanding through the tantrums.

I’m still a work in progress as a mom and you’re 3! But I want you to know that I am trying to be the best mom I can be. I want you to always be happy. Always, always, always. If you’re happy, then I’m over the moon. If you’re sad – well, let’s just say Mommy is even more sad.

I want you and your brother to always think of me as one person in this whole wide world who will always be there for you. I know that seems like a big promise – always – and it is. But I don’t make promises to you that I know I can’t keep so there you have it. I will always be there for you, no matter what it costs me. I love you so much there are no words.

So you enjoy being three and I’ll enjoy being your mom. Is that a deal?

Does that work for you? *smile*

Love, Mommy