46 months or so

Hannah,

I started writing letters to you long ago because of a blog I love to read, dooce.com. I don't know her, but her letters to her daughter are an honest and beautiful reflection of specific moments of motherhood. She has inspired me, among countless others I'm sure, to keep a record of this time in my life and yours. But more importantly, this process has helped me reflect on who YOU are and try to understand, really understand you; your fears, insecurities, joys, loves.


This stage in your life reminds me of when, as a little girl, I saw my mom reading a book with the phrase "strong-willed child" on the cover. I not-so-innocently asked her why she was reading it, and she just paused, looked up from her pages, and said, "Why do you THINK I'm reading this?"

This summer has been a move into a difficult and new territory for me. I think I can easily say that up until May or so, you've been a fairly "easy" child. I cognitively understand that you are growing up and trying to establish more independence, but to help you work this out on a day to day basis has been rather trying.

Of course, my own personal agenda for each moment and day, is our main point of tension. Like right now, as I sit with my computer on the patio, you are trying to narrate to me every move you make.

"Look mom. Look. I'm riding my horsey."

"Hey, mom. The baby is riding in the car with me. Look. LOOK."

That word, LOOK, is a loaded word. In fact, it's probably a glimpse into what you really want from me. Don't just glance my way, I want your FULL attention!

And now, out of desperation and because you know it gets me most every time, you've just asked to cuddle with me. And in my hard-hearted way, I say, "In just a minute."

To be fair though, MANY times you've used cuddling and kisses as a distraction from what you know you should be doing. Like SLEEPING, eating, going potty, SLEEPING, picking up toys, SLEEPING.

Well, despite what you think at times, I AM looking and watching. You've been fun to watch. Your little quirks and preferences come out and that just make those around you giggle...which you rarely appreciate....or maybe it's just a lack of understanding.

For instance, we have this morning ritual of reading the comics. I didn't realize how easily you catch on to random vocabulary until I overheard you reading to yourself later that morning,

"And then we'll go drink some margaritas! Won't that be fun?"


You LOVE reading. You'll sit on the couch for a long time, reading book after book after book. Calling it "reading" may be the incorrect term...more like "creative writing." Both your dad and I wonder if, after learning how to read, you'll grow tired of the actual storyline.

You still love clothes, hair, etc. You never miss telling me that you like my hair down whenever you see my ponytail.
One evening, we went to a Ronald McDonald magic show. You really weren't all that impressed with Ronald's string of scarves, or multiplying balls....but throughout the ENTIRE show, you kept whispering in my ear, "What COLOR are his SHOES?! I want to SEE his SHOES!"

It's very clear that you are an extrovert. You don't want to miss anything and in turn, don't want others to miss anything either. It is exhausting at times, but you clearly got that from me, not your father.

As a teacher, I had two dear and wise friends, Sue and Donna who somehow had this ability to get to the heart of the child and his/her behavior. Their influence transformed my heart towards my students and allowed me to especially love those who are at times challenging. I should reconnect with them and ask how I can better do this. I have a feeling they'll simply tell me what I already know: Listen. Slow down. Put YOUR agenda aside.

And if I'm honest, isn't that what I want? What we all want? Someone to take the time to understand, listen, and get to the heart of who I am or what I'm trying to communicate?

I want to understand you like that, Hannah. Being a teacher was just an eight hour job. But you and I are with each other all day, every day. And you want my FULL attention.

I know there is a valuable lesson in teaching you the appropriate time to ask for my full attention, but I don't want to miss the lesson you're trying to teach me. I truly hope, Hannah, as you look back on your childhood, you'll remember me truly looking at you, paying attention, listening. I'm sure you'll also remember times when I've let you down as well. But my hope is that you'll have more memories of the former, not the latter.

I love you,
Mom