Growing up too quickly

In the beginning, it's all about making it to the next milestone.  That first smile, rolling over, sleeping through the night, crawling, saying their first word, walking...  And for a long time after that, it feels like you are just looking forward and making plans for them.  It's a whirlwind of viruses and playdates and preschool... and, life. 

At some point, your attention has to be more evenly spread between an outside job, more attention to that husband that you hardly remember seeing that first year or so other than to pass off the baby for a break, and eventually, maybe even a new baby.  You might not be able to imagine how your love can be spread between two (or more) children, but seemingly miraculously, your capacity to love increases proportionally.  Because what you really didn't understand, is that you'd love them just as much, even if in sometimes differing ways.

They get more active, signing up for pee-wee cheerleading, Brownie Girl Scouts, soccer, gymnastics, academic team, piano lessons, band, basketball (and that's just a partial list of my daughter's many activities over the elementary school years alone).

I'm not sure exactly when it happens, but somewhere along the way you stop looking forward quite so much, and start looking back, wishing for your child, maybe especially your firstborn, to be young again.  Since that can't happen, you at least want time to slow way down. 

You finally regret starting her in Kindergarten early, because that is now one less year that she could have lived at home.  By the time you debate coming up with any possible excuse to hold her back a year, it's too late.  When she talks about the fact that she could possibly even graduate early, at least you can put your foot down about that, but it's small consolation knowing that she will be going off to college at only 17 years old.

And she's always been the independent one.  Your son may beg to live at home during college.  But your daughter, your firstborn, has been ready to move out on her own (at least she thinks so) since about age 4.  You suspect that she talks of college in California just because it's the furthest continental state away from home.

Ah, my daughter, my beautiful, headstrong, independent, strong young woman.  There are so many things I want you to know before you venture out on your own.  Two and a half years doesn't seem long enough to make you realize everything I want you to know.

Forgive me when I look at you, and still see this little girl instead of the nearly grown woman you're so quickly becoming:

You are beautiful.  You are loved unconditionally, not just by me, your father, and yes, even your brother, but most importantly, you are loved by God.  You can do (almost) anything.  I push you hard sometimes because I know that you can go further than your father and I ever did, or could.  I expect a lot from you, probably more than is expected from most of your friends.  But I believe children live up to expectations.  I went to college because I was expected to.  I made good grades because it was expected of me.  I expect all that of you, and so much more.

You are the child I learned on.  I don't know if that means I'm a better mother to your little brother, of if knowing that I've made mistakes is a good thing.  I know I could have done better raising you, but I could have done much worse as well.  Hearing positive comments about you from your teachers, peers, and parents of your friends...  Just looking at you, I know that you will go far.

You are strong.  You are sometimes fearless.  You are honest.  You are amazing.  You are my daughter, and by that I've been blessed beyond measure.