Dear Maggie -
I dropped you off at school yesterday morning, and we were both frustrated because we were running late. You lost your temper. I teared up. It's not my norm. And when you noticed you lingered outside the car with such a concern in your eyes. You apologized and asked me if I was okay. You wanted to stay I could tell. But we locked eyes in understanding and love and inadequacy, and we gave each other a weak smile and both went on to face our day.
As I drove away I realized you were growing up and growing into the kind of empathy that only comes with a willingness to let go a bit of childhood innocence. I remembered at that exact moment that I owed you the ten year old gift I gave your sisters - a letter celebrating and reflecting on our first decade together. But in that moment all I could think about was a fall afternoon when you were not quite three and I woke you up early from a peaceful Saturday nap to go pick up one of your sisters from a birthday party. I realized that day that the world does not revolve around babies as the narrative goes. Your life from day one can never be completely about you when you are the youngest. At two weeks old I dragged you to Avery's first parent teacher conference because both your dad and I felt we should be there, and we couldn't exactly leave you at home. An older parent or grandma tsked at me in the elementary school office and then chastised me for taking an infant out as young as you were. But this was not your first or last infant outing. You came to a Girl Scout meeting later that week because I was troop leader. We have pictures of you sleeping in strollers at Big Surf and in shopping carts at Sam’s because by the time you were born our lives couldn’t pause because babies nap two hours each afternoon. While your sisters spent their toddler weekends with library mornings followed by primary color compartment plates featuring a protein, fruit, and veggie topped off by an afternoon tuck in, yours were spent on the sidelines of soccer fields, in the bleachers for CYBA, or as the audience at TRYPS - and your lunches were often tossed to you in your car seat as we rushed off to another scheduled event. Everyone says I spoil you, but maybe my willingness to have laid with you longer than I should have for more years than I should have to get you to sleep at night were one big apology for the way we asked you to bend your little life and needs around ours. Your life never got the structure it deserved.
But then I think of other pictures - the one where you aren’t even two and you have your own ice cream cone the size of your head because you had just let us know our Virginia vacation would be ruined if we thought you would be satisfied with a few bites of our concretes… or the one where you weren’t quite three and you marched into your first dance class beaming from ear to ear. The rule was that you had to be three by summer to start regular classes at CPAC but I asked for an exception. They said they had to meet you first, and you marched in there and shouted, “I’m Maggie and I want to dance on your stage!” You started class the next week. There was no way your sisters were going to continue to do things you couldn’t. You have had to fight a bit for the time, energy and experiences you want and deserve, and it’s made you feisty and makes us exasperated at times - but I take comfort in knowing you won’t let this world pass you by. Also, you won’t let me not love you with my whole whole heart.
Last night you asked me to lay with you again (a habit we finally shook some time this past year.) You told me that turning ten was a reminder you wouldn’t be little forever. As I scratched your back and made you listen to my newest song obsession I thought about something you have been teaching me for a decade now - the youngest somehow grows up so much faster and slower than the others. Your request that I lay with you caused me to be still and present for the first time in days, and I realized what a gift it was to have one that clings on as you do to me and how good it feels to cling back. I know with certainty that you will be by my side for whatever lies ahead for both of us. Somehow, despite all my inadequacy you continue to look to me with love and understanding and a pleading to be still and to be a mom - the most important and rewarding job on my list. Despite the structure I couldn’t give and the bends we couldn’t and won’t always be able to make, you bent and twisted to squeeze your little self into our lives - filling in the holes we left to make us whole and loved and better people. Thank you for being the force that you are.
All our love always.
Mom
