Last night, I joined a couple hundred parents in watching our kids perform their kindergarten musical.  With less than a month of the school year left, it felt completely full circle–my kid, willingly up there on stage after being peeled from my body, crying, on the first day of school just nine months ago. Although obviously more secure in her environment now, she’s still the same kid she was then.  Shy, hesitant, observant.  She was an ant in last night’s “Just Buggy” musical, an ant who intently focused on the teachers in front of her, careful to do the motions just right and sing the correct words yet still maintaining her comfort zone of blending in with the crowd.  Subtle motions, focused face.  I loved that every bit of her performance had me smiling “That’s so Lainey.”

I’ve learned a lot this year about letting my kid be exactly who she is.  No more “don’t be shy”s.  Just “be you.”  And if shy is you, then be gloriously, wonderfully shy.  And I will love you.  Your shyness, your hesitancy, your intently focused little face.  I will love you for who you are.

One of the many beautiful pieces by artist Jennifer Zetts of The Little Illustrator

While I watched Lainey’s show, our dear Nana Kate tended to Nella.  Overwhelmed by the crowds and people, Nella preferred to be far away from it all, secured in Nana Kate’s arms in the back of the cafeteria and later, taken outside where she felt free and happy to run around without a throng of people trying to talk to her.  She likes her space, and that’s okay.  She needs space and patience and in that space and patience, she comes alive–curious and adventurous and yes, sometimes stubbornly persistent.  But I love her curiousity and her spirit of adventure and her stubborn persistence.  Be you, Nella.  And I will love you for who you are.

One of my favorite things about parenting is the opportunity to teach something.  Because, in teaching them, we teach ourselves.  So, in all these little lessons like “be you” and “try new things” and “you can do it” and “be kind,” we’re reminding ourselves.  Many times, when I’m struggling with something, I imagine that I’m a grown up Lainey or Nella or Dash.  What would I tell them?  How would I encourage them?  Those words and feelings come quickly and passionately with the depth of love I have for them and all the things I hope they know true in their hearts.  How much more important it is that I know these things for myself.  And live them.  My kids help make me a better me. 

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To all the mamas out there, have a wonderful Mother’s Day this weekend.  I know how much my own mama paved the road for my motherhood journey.  I realize more having my own kids just how much she did, how much she loved us. 

Your Enjoying the Small Things moments this week:

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And a sweet treat from one of our sponsors, Bloomies Handmade.  She has two new spring lines out, and she is offering readers 30% off with the code SMALLTHINGS.

Now get out there and have a wonderful weekend.

I’m honored to share our space with Erin Loechner today.  Erin is the creator and writer behind Design for Mankind but has been sharing her mama musings at Design for Minikind since she’s become a mama. 

 Photo Credit for all photos in this post:  Woodnote Photography

Her little “Bee” is nine months old now, and Erin expresses some heartfelt mama feelings and beautiful writing in her series of letters to her daughter.  This is one of her latest:

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Dear Bee
by Erin Loechner

Dear Bee,

Today I sat down to write you a letter and my mind started ticking boxes for all the things you’re learning and doing – all the moments I so desperately wanted to document in your letters, locking them away into a virtual cedar chest of sorts. You stand on your own now – a proud, but surprised look on your face, like you’ve just baked your first cherry delight and it didn’t taste horrible. Tick. You wave wildly, welcoming friends and family into our home as they come and go. Tick. You play independently, hug fiercely and throw tantrums with vigor. Tick, tick, tick.

Ticks of achievement, sure, but they sound deceptively like the ticks of a minute hand – rhythmic and continuous – a soundtrack that’s ever-present in our days together. And I realize that while you’re changing, so is our world. There is entitlement and fraud and greed and guilt and sadness and trial – all the things that have existed before us and will continue to exist as you grow older. But there is also kindness, Bee. And heart and soul and baked goods and great music and warm sunshine – silver linings among the many storms our nation is facing, has faced and will always face.

As a kid, I was an avid swimmer – often training year-round – donning the latest Clinique scent of Eau de Chlorine. It was a grueling sport, but one that taught me the benefits of hard, honest work. There were no shortcuts when you were a distance swimmer, only flags and lane markers and flip cards. No bad referee calls or changing terrain. Because in competitive swimming, the only variable is time. It’s your mind and your body and your soul and maybe leaking goggles and choppy waves. And then there’s time.

There was an oversized stop watch on the wall of the natatorium I trained in. It was weathered, showing its age through steam-filled cracks and rusted zeroes. The second hand had been repaired many times, wrapped in different hues of faded beige masking tape, each shade revealing tales of personal bests and championships and failures. Yet it ticked on, never-failing, and my coach often joked that if we we’d endured half the trials the poor second hand had, we’d be all-stars in record timing.

I still remember those words and I often think of them when the days are long and the sky is cloudy. I thought I’d grow up to be the second hand, Bee, ticking on through trials and hard days and bad headlines. And I am, to some extent. We all are. This world is resilient and beautiful and surprising – ticking and tocking and changing-yet-not-changing all at the same time.

That doesn’t mean we’re strong, of course. It just means we have a steady supply of masking tape in our desk drawers – cures that heal, ties that bond, halves that complete.

And I guess what I meant to say in this letter is that you are my tape. Your father is my tape. Your grandparents and aunts and uncles and family friends and community and teachers and faraway mentors – they are shreds of masking tape, piecing together the broken and mangled second hands in their lives.

And you will see many things in your lifetime – things I fear and things I hope – that will tick and tock until the world has changed yet again. My wish for you is this: that you often look for the tape. That you sometimes find the tape. And that you always be the tape.

XO,

Mama

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Erin Loechner is a  a writer/stylist/impromptu designer who recently entered the world of motherhood.  She writes at Design for Mankind and Design for Minikind and is a frequent contributor at Babble Voices and Disney Baby.

Welcome to our new sponsor, North American Bear Co., a classic toy company and creator of a whole line of plush dolls, bears, accessories and more.  An oldie (created in 1978 by a new mama) but a goodie, North American Bear Co. is run by a diverse staff (over 10 languages spoken) made up of mostly moms and features new collections every season. 

We love their sweet and simple plush baby dolls…

Lainey loves the little nursery ID bracelet on the baby’s wrist
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Left: We named ours Dashy, Right: Plush Goody Bags

Lainey loves their pocket dolls.

Wizard of Oz

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A cozy welcome to North American Bear Co.