The Letter

So Lillian got a letter today.  The letter.  It actually wasn't addressed to her.  It read, to the parents of.  An official looking letter.  It might as well have been a college acceptance letter.  Because that's what it felt like.  But it wasn't.  It was a kindergarten acceptance letter.  My child is quite advanced.  She  was accepted into her first choice of schools.  So maybe our neighborhood was the deciding factor.  Not my advanced child's wit.  We'll just pretend this was a competition.  And Lillian won. 

Within this letter was a name.  The name of Lillian's kindergarten teacher.  I cried when I read the teacher's name.  It sounded nice enough.  I did a background check on said teacher.  Okay, so it was  a background check via facebook.  Through a friend we have in common.  Is this considered stalking?  Lurking?  Am I creepy?  I am creepy.  Who cares, I got the goods. 

She looks nice.  Is she nice?  Will she adore my Lil as much as I adore her?  Will she make sure she eats her lunch?  Gets onto the correct bus?  Maybe I should pick her up?  Will she protect her from bullies?  Teach her how to read?  Give her a hug when she's feeling scared?  Will she know when she's feeling scared?  Or sad, or mad, or happy, or excited?  Will she send her to the nurse's office when she doesn't feel well?  Will she call me if she has concerns?  Will she appreciate Lillian's jokes?  Her thoughtfulness and her craziness?  Will she understand that Lillian is simply a loud child?  She doesn't know how to contain her exuberance for life.  Will she embrace this?  Or try to squash one of her best traits?

I feel like I've been raising babies my whole life.  I've only had five years with Lillian.  Three with Grady.  And Dempsey, for only eighteen months.  But I can't even remember what I did without them.  I can't remember not loving, kissing, hugging, whispering, chasing, teaching, preparing and loving, kissing, and hugging.  I can't believe I actually had a life without them.  What the hell did I do with all that free time?  Was I smart?  Was I interesting?  Did people like me?   I surely never uttered the words mommy milk, poop, pee or potty.  Unless of course you count the time I busted Sean peeing into the Tupperware container, holding 40 pounds of dog food, after he had drank too much 'mommy milk.'   Maybe he was preparing me.  For all the poop, pee, and pottying that was to come.

Lillian is my first baby.  I love her with all my being.  I reminded her the other day that she will always be my baby.  "Even when I'm 80?"  She asked.  "Yup, even when you're 80."  I told her. 

Dear Teacher,

Please love my baby.  Take good care of her.  Watch out for her.  Teach her to read and write.  Make sure she eats her lunch and gets onto the correct bus.  Don't let anyone pick on her.  Remind her to say please and thank you, and treat everyone how she would like to be treated.  Tell her she's special and smart and can do anything she sets her mind too.  Everything I would do.  If I was still lucky enough to spend the whole day with her. 

Sincerely,

Lillian's mom



Dear Lillian,

Don't leave me with the babies!

Love, Mom
xxxxoooo