Dear Nathalie, Love Mom

Dear Nathalie, You did it. You broke my heart.  Today is the last day of 1st grade and I really thought I'd handle it well. I had you stand at the door and took your photo. You know, so I could compare your first day with your last day.  I drove you to school, dropped you off.  Everything.  Was. Fine. Then I got home. I pulled up my handy "Instacollage" app, pulled your first day photo and your last day photo into the fancy frame and WHAMMO! Instant tears. You have grown SO much in this past school year. Not only are you TALLER, but you have developed such a sharp wit. You're smart. You're a critical thinker. You're reading like crazy. And I'm so proud. And heartbroken.  It's such a joy to watch you grow and really, that's what it's all about. Raising our children so they can become good people and contribute to the world around them in positive ways. And I know you'll do just that.  But it hurts to think back to those days where you were s...

Dear Nathalie, As we were finishing dinner last night, Ron and I were talking about how great you are at being seven. I can't recall exactly what sparked that conversation (mostly because I'm extremely tired and getting older) but right on cue you came over with your little paper fortune teller thing (we used to call them "cootie catchers" when I was little) and told me to pick a color. We went through the whole thing and at the end, my fortune was "You will be a princess." You then went on to read aloud all the fortunes. That you wrote.  You will have xray vision. You will have rainbow vision. You will have an extra arm. You will have an extra eye. You will be a queen. You will be a king. You will be a princess. You will be a prince. You, my dear, are excellent at being seven.  Some of these things I have to start capturing on video because they are much to complicated to translate to mere written words. It's all in how you communicate. The words you us...

Dear Nathalie, Your Wizard of Oz play is this evening. My plan was to drop you off and run a few errands before the play started. I was informed by your teacher that it would be wise to head over and get in line for a seat. So, here I am. I've been sitting here for close to half an hour already. On the floor. Of an elementary school hallway. It's incredibly uncomfortable and in the end, I'm almost certain that I won't even really be able to see you anyway. But, you've been working hard for this play. And even though you wanted to be Dorothy, in your mind "Oz Person" is just as sweet a role. I caught a sneak peek of you in costume heading to the stage with your friends. You look about as adorable as I expected. Break a leg kiddo. Meanwhile, I'll break my back here on the floor. Love, Mom