My daughter is five-years-old this year, and will be starting her first year of kindergarten. I’m all excited for her, but also for myself. I have this serious obsession with writing and school supplies, so this is like Christmas for me. Sad and pathetic, I know, but I don’t care. I love to shop!!
Today, though, it was all driven home that my baby girl is taking her first step to being an independent little girl. I’m excited that she’s taking that first big step, but I’m scared to let her go. I don’t want her to grow up too fast.
This year is a year of firsts for her, and for my family. This year was the first big separation from Daddy. No, we didn’t split. I just went to my parents’ house for a month because my husband couldn’t get that amount of time off.
Besides taking a break from daily life to visit Grandma and Grandpa, my daughter has gotten her first bike. My parents’ purchased it, and my sister purchased an adorable helmet to go with it. My daughter is so tiny, though, that the toddler size one is actually a little big on her. Poor little tiny thing.
I’ve been spending some time reminiscing over when she was a baby. She definitely wasn’t the easiest baby in the world. She had a major milk-protein intolerance that forced me to put her on formula (and caused lactose-intolerance problems in me from having to cut milk out cold turkey). She ended up with colic until she was almost 11 months old.
The pains with having a baby like that was far out-masked by the fact that when she smiled, the world seemed brighter. When she took her first step, or cut her first tooth, or said her first word, my husband and I were over the moon. With every smile, every milestone, all the hardships just faded away.
My daughter taught me the true meaning of love. She taught me the meaning of life. She showed me how sweet and precious life really is. My family is what keeps my feet planted firmly on the ground.