I know when I started this series about our home, I said it was going to be all bungalow posts, all the time, but I am gonna pump the brakes for a minute.
Because today was my girl's Spring Program at preschool.
She has been talking about it for weeks now. "I'm going to sing on the stage, Mommy. With all my friends, I'm going to sing on the stage for you and Daddy, and Baby Brother, and Nana, and Oma…" and on she would go, down the list of everyone who had attended her Christmas Program.
(We, um, tend to roll deep to family events these days.)
And with all that talk, I will admit, I began to worry. Because, occasionally in this toddler world we reside - weeks and weeks of excitement lead to the moment we've been anticipating being one of feeling overwhelmed and self conscious and sad. (See: Santa, or the Easter Bunny, or holiday dinners or parties, or trips to see family members, or even every day errands.)
And other times, they go off without a hitch.
It's not that this Spring Program, or the Christmas one, or anything she'll ever do - game she'll ever play in, speech she'll ever make, performance she'll ever have, book she'll ever write - will ever define her for me.
But these moments are so revelatory to me.
I have been with this girl for 99.9% of her entire life. Without hyperbole, almost every moment of her life has been by my side. I know her feelings and her thoughts on varying topics, which at this point in life are rather limited, but they are all her and her "work" as she likes to say.
At programs like this though, I get the tiny glimpses of what she is like when I am not standing beside her. The person she is when she is not in my immediate company, or even in the company of some other adult who is giving her the majority of their attention.
When she is one of the many.
And today I saw a girl who listens to her teacher and pays attention. Who patiently and enthusiastically follows directions. Who has created things. Who has practiced and rehearsed and had fun while doing it.
("Singing is my favorite work, Mommy.")
Who takes her performance seriously and sustains some serious focus. Who will break that focus to wave back and smile at her crazy family. Who loves to sing and to perform. Who does so gleefully and with every ounce of her being.
And today, I am so proud of that girl.
And so proud that I can call her mine.
Evelyn Rae is two and a half, Liam is fifteen months
…and I am so going to miss this little school that has been such a great experience for my girl.