Letter To My Daughter on Her First Day of Second Grade

Dear One Fish,

You didn't even look back when you got out of the van this morning.

How could I be so proud and so disappointed at the same time? Last year at this time you were practically trembling with fear and I cried a little as I watched that huge backpack disappear into the crowd of children. I was in pain for you, although I knew that a big part of you was hugely excited. I worried that you would cry at some point in the day. And you did. But, your teacher patted you and reassured you and your new friend cried a little too and so it was all OK. I was so sure when you left kindergarten that you were "ready." Watching you walk away a year ago, I wasn't so sure at all. The only thing I knew for sure was that I wasn't ready. At all.

But, this morning was a different story. There was very little fanfare, save the made-to-order breakfast I made you (cheese grits and bacon) and extended conference early this morning about your wardrobe choice. It was the first day of school and you have already learned that the first day requires careful decision making indeed. I will be a lucky mommy if we agonize and giggle that way about your outfit every first day of school for the next 18 years. You are going to some sort of 4 year graduate or professional school, right? You will be calling me for advice about your outfit on the first day of classes for that too, right?

Someone told me once that a mother's bond with her oldest child is different than with the subsequent children. Not stronger, necessarily. Not better. Just different. Her theory was the Trench Theory. In the beginning, you and I were in the trenches together. It was hard. Just about everything was unexpected. We were tired and cranky at times and at times we were irrationally joyous because we were sure that we were the first mother and child in the world to experience some momentous milestone. We figured out this whole parent/child thing together. You broke me in. I muddled through as best I could and you gave me enough confidence to do it again two more times. But by then I was seasoned and your brothers got a mother who'd been around the block. You got the novice and had to train me on the job. Bummer for you, but it was a wild ride, wasn't it?


Throughout your life, I feel as though we'll always be sort of winking at one another saying in our heads, "Remember back in the day? Whew! Those were some crazy times, huh? Thank God we had each other to lean on. It's a miracle either of us survived!"


So, today when you hopped your sassy self out of the car and turned, I had my camera ready to capture your last look and goodbye at your mother. But you never completed the swivel. It turns out that the turn wasn't for me at all. Instead, you had spied a friend and just couldn't wait another minute to tell her about your fancy new bookbag and admire her sparkly new shoes. The camera click captured just a shot of your ear.


Be kind to me, dear One Fish. Some wild days are still ahead of us. You get to be the one to break me in to the teenage years too. But, we have plenty of time. For now, let me just enjoy planning your special "first day of school after-school snack." When you get home, I'll hang on your every word and try to pretend that I was there and I'll try to get more details out of you than you have patience to give me. We'll figure out what outfit you'll wear tomorrow and we'll sit down and flip through every textbook you get to bring home. You can tell me everyone in your class and we can plan who you'll have the first playdate with. I'll let you pick what we'll have for dinner. It was your first day of school, after all.


All this will come to an end someday. I do know this. This morning and the turn -that -wasn't -for -me was just the first step of many in breaking away and climbing out of the trench that was just ours for so long. But, I'll have a big smile on when you get home from school. Maybe I'll even be putting your first-day-of-school pictures in your album. The ones taken before we left the house turned out beautifully.


But, I guess my favorite picture from this morning is one of just your ear.