peevish mama

Devil Baby is FIVE and I feel like I’ve been hit by a falling piano. I can’t believe it. I simply cannot believe it. My baby is five. I am now standing on a new shore, looking back at the other shore, panting, dripping, not sure how I actually made it here, and not quite ready to turn around and look at the new terrain that awaits me. This feels big.

Not only is she going from baby to full-on girl, but our family is stepping into a new phase altogether: all of our kids are now “school age.” Hell, this fall we’ll even have a middle schooler! Gasp! As a mother, and a mother of this particular girl, I feel like we have crossed hot deserts, climbed ragged mountains and forded angry rivers together. She was a tough one. She would not be named Devil Baby on this blog had she not been. We struggled, we cried, we ranted and railed but I am here to say that we made it. She is officially what I would characterize as a good little girl – made of sugar and spice and everything nice (and a large dose of sass).

She’s five, which is a truly magical age, but in keeping with her extreme nature, she has taken five to a new level even though she’s only been five for a couple days. Lately, when someone new is around or she knows she’s being watched, she goes into what I call “child actor mode”. She gets really perky and loud, like one of the orphans in the Broadway Musical, Annie. It’s like she’s the child actor version of being five – extra sweet, extra happy, extra chatty. But it’s the real deal with Devil Baby. She is feeling the five thing. Boy, is she feeling it. She is five with a vengeance. Five with style. Five with jazz hands and Charleston kicks.

She is thoughtful, helpful, curious and most of all, hilarious. Oh, how she makes us laugh. She is dramatic and girlie, free in her body and light on her feet. Her pre-school teachers tell me she’s unflaggingly polite (child actor mode?). Her legs have doubled in length in the last year and I can’t tear my eyes away from her lithe little frame when she dances or rides a scooter or climbs a fence or jumps off the diving board. She feels her emotions strongly and makes sure we do too. Like her sister, she chafes at having to be alone or hang around the house. Rest time is unnecessary, down time is a bore. She loves to be with people, to play, to be out in the world. This girl is ready to fly.

And me? I look at her and feel a crushing, panicky heartachey kind of love, because if she and I got to 5 and it felt this quick when I know it was that hard, then how is the rest going to go? How do I slow this down? Now that we’ve gotten to our sweet spot, how do I slow this down?

Sweet Devil Baby – my love, my greatest challenge to date. We’ve come a long way, baby. You are truly one of a kind. You have kept me on my toes, on the edge and in tune with every emotion in my grab bag for five years. At your core you are willful. At your core you are kind. You are a treasure and I cannot wait to see what you do, where you go, who you become.

My sweet, sweet baby. My sweet, sweet girl. Happy Birthday and thank you, my little Devil Baby, for being exactly as you are.