Nan Louise,
I'm not quite sure how we arrived here so quickly, but you're SIX! I was looking at you on the morning of your birthday, just studying your face from every angle, and noticed how you're changing. You're looking more like a big kid, and your eyes have a depth to them that seems new and more nuanced than before. And yet, there is still a twinkle of mischief and naivety in them-- well, probably more than just a twinkle. You're constantly telling me to think about something "in your mind, keep it in your head, trapped!" And that is what I am trying to do when I look at you right now-- still so small, yet capable of so much, strawberry hair whipping in the wind.
This was a big year for you: you started KINDERGARTEN and you were bursting at the seams to do so. You could hardly wait all summer to be able to head out the door with your sisters in the morning. Like most things you face in this life, you went full steam ahead and were all in from day one. You have the same, wonderful teacher your sisters had in Kindergarten, and just like when she taught them, she can do no wrong in your eyes. You love her dearly. Things have started clicking for you more recently, and you're wanting to read little books to me. You really want Sloan to allow you to teach him, but he's not always as into that setup as you are. You also are growing in the "that's not fair" department, but still struggle with wanting every single little thing to be even. I often repeat to you an axiom I often said in my classroom: "What is fair is not always even."
You have made so many new and fun friends this year. A few months ago I asked you who your best friends were, and you listed SIXTEEN people: some from your class, some from our church, all your siblings, and some family members. And then you said, "Oh, and me! I like me too!" At recess it seems you most often can be found running around wildly with all the boys in your class. Just this morning you put on your rain boots and ran through the kitchen. You came back and asked me where your tennis shoes were because, you were "going to have to chase some boys at recess and the boots aren't very good for that." You are incredibly social and have no issues engaging with most people. You can be pretty commandeering once you're comfortable, so we're hoping to help you navigate that into leadership abilities rather than bossy tirades.
You are a never-ending fount of funny commentary. I know eventually I probably won't have a section in your birthday letter where I get to remark on some of your hilarious sayings, so I am going to capitalize on that for as long as I can. This year was exceptionally good, and I know I didn't even get to write them all down. Last year on Mother's Day you came up to me with tears in your eyes, and when I asked what was wrong you said, "I just really want to be a mom but it takes too long to grow up!" Once you fell and hurt your knee and Sloan came and kissed it and, while still crying, you said, "That wasn't really a kiss-- that was just a SMUDGE on my knee! You've got to make the kiss sound!" Another time you asked me about one of your friends who was in dance class if she was "going to get to be the knuckle cracker?"
You have a knack for saying things in just the right exact way as to get the point across. One morning you poured Becks's cereal for her and then yelled out, "Come quick! It's gonna sog up!" Another time you told me, "Sometimes my nose gets all crinkly, and it feels kind of spicy... but then I don't achoo!" I knew exactly what you meant. When I asked what you wanted for your birthday you said, "I want a crown... and to be queen of everything!" I said I didn't think that was possible and you said, "Fine. A drone." You never miss a beat. It was similar to when you got a dollar for losing your first "real" tooth and, while holding the money, said, "I'm going to buy a horse!" Your dad said he didn't think that would be enough money to buy a horse and you immediately said, "Okay. I'll buy a bug!"
I think the most telling thing you've expressed lately though was after school one day. That morning had been particularly difficult for you, and you had barely managed to get ready in time because everything was making you emotional and you were crying a lot. I was talking about it with you over your snack, and asking what was going on that morning, and you said, "That wasn't ME making me cry, it was my heart: it was like a man was wrestling my heart and I HAD to cry." I felt like that was pretty profound language for you to be able to express yourself that way. And while it made me giggle, I think it also taught me a lot -- you tend to roll with your emotions, highs are high, lows are low. The saying, "wears her heart on her sleeve" is very accurate for you. I am glad you can express yourself so well, even if in the explanation you confess you don't really know why you were crying but simply needed to. We've all been there. I pray I can help you navigate these big feelings well over the years.
You love to play outside, and if you're inside you are most likely drawing, coloring, or playing with some small dolls or figurines of some sort. You absolutely live for our once a week, special family movie night. Every once in awhile you ask to just have some time to play by yourself in your room, which in a family of six is considered quite a luxury. You do have your own room again though, as sharing with Becks didn't quite work out; you never could quite figure out how to stop talking to her long enough to go to sleep. Maybe in a few more years we can try again. You're determined to learn how to ride a bike this year, and if we can help you figure out how to get your feet and body to slow down enough to meet your brain then I'm sure you'll master it in no time. You absolutely love to play on the ninja course Nini and PopPop got you for Christmas, and I can often find you in our backyard wobbling through it's obstacles. At the end of last summer you really took off as a swimmer, jumping of the diving board and swimming to the side all by yourself, so you're really looking forward to pool season again!
You loved visiting Hawaii this year! While we all love our usual trips to Colorado-- and you do love hiking mountains-- Hawaii and the salty air seemed to suit you quite well. Your hair took to the extra humidity in beautiful ways [mine did not!], and you were quite adventurous which shouldn't have surprised us at all. You were determined to be the first one to the top of our big hike, and the first one down. When anyone asks you what your favorite part of the trip was though, you say "Shaved ice!" It was pretty good, I'll admit. But you also loved playing in waves, flipping over on the boogy board, seeing sea turtles, and hanging out Lauri and Charles. Charles's military uniform did nothing to stifle your tenacity in ordering him around, and you loved playing all his silly games.
Last year in your letter I mentioned that there is something untethered inside you-- a fire burning that is unique. Your dad and I are still praying for the wisdom to know how to keep that fire from being a wildfire, but also recognize it for the gift it is and teach how to stoke it at the necessary moments. You're inquisitive yet process things emotionally first, and foremost. I always say that I could walk in a room and shout in an angry voice, "NAN! I'M GOING TO GIVE YOU A COOKIE!" and you would burst in to tears because you would only hear how I said the words and wouldn't even be able to process what I actually said. This is very, very different than how I operate, and so it has been a unique gift to be your mom.
YOU are a unique gift, Nanny Lou. Your pregnancy was a wild ride-- from your dad getting Zika to my pelvis separation at the end. And it brought up to you, the wildest ride yet ;). You have a drumbeat inside you that is wild and free, untethered to any song that has ever been played before. I absolutely love how God made you, and am learning more and more how to have a heart that is wide open to this life and to all people simply from watching you do it so well. I pray often that you would have eyes to see God, ears to hear him, and a heart that loves him, and I am excited to just sit back and continue to learn from you in all these areas.
As I have ended all your letters, I want to end this one: We hope you understand the why behind our no-s. We hope you feel safe in the boundaries we set. We hope you feel freedom in the wide open places we leave for you. We hope you see God in our actions and in our words. We hope when you leave our little home for good and go out on your own that you'll look back on this simple little life we had together-- chaos and mistakes and messes and all-- and see that it was Grace that held us together; that you see that it was God's daily bread that provided it all.
We love you, Nan Louise. There is nothing you could ever do that would make us stop loving you.
Happy sixth birthday!
