Dear Emma Gracie,

That big *sigh* you heard today was from your Mommy. You have leap-frogged over the age of 4 and you have gone straight to age 14.

You told me today that when you grow up you and Sam are going to get married. Little Sam is your sweet, (very cute – you do have good taste!) little friend that you play with at Kids Klub while Mommy works out. You just told me as we were walking out, “Mommy, when I get bigger like you, Sam and I are going to get married. And he’ll get bigger too so we can get married!”

What happened to marrying Daddy? (Not in a sick, Kentucky-inbred sort of way – but a sweet little FOUR-YEAR OLD way.) You are not supposed to be planning out futures with little boys named Sam (or boys by any other name, for that matter.), you are supposed to be running around having a fun life free of worries or cares.

All I’m saying is, keep this up and you are going to give your Mommy a heart-attack. Come on! You know the plan:

• No dating until you are 18.
• You’ll get married at 26 or so.
• Have little grandbabies around 28, or maybe 30.

So, Sam, hit the road. You can come around knocking in 14 years or so.

All my love,
Mommy

If the art thing doesn’t work out for Emma, she will make a fantastic lawyer.

J. and I have been astounded lately with her knack for debate. She uses her negotiation skills for everything. Five more minutes of coloring before bed? Five, four, three more bites of her dinner. And she is famous for ONE more story before bed. I noticed the other night when I went in to tuck her in (Denise had put them to bed), that there was a stack of books, we are talking maybe 10 or 12 books next to her bed. I guess she found a tactic that works on Denise. She definitely has one that works on her Daddy. (Not so much on Mommy.) 🙂

For a time she would pose it as “Hey, Mom – I have a great idea! Let’s….” and so would begin her request. I loved it when she said this, she always said it with such enthusiasm, it almost didn’t matter what she was asking for. (Almost.)

But lately she has resorted to pleading…okay, let’s call it what it really is…whining. And what is the one thing Mommy cannot stand?

Whining.

I think, however, that we have found a great tactic that is helping tremendously with the whining. (Listen up – all you Mamas with whiny 4-year olds!) I think J. actually started this with her.

E.: “But….(whiny, whiny, whiny little request).
M. (or D.): “Would you like to try again?”
E.: “OK! Mommy, may I have (insert request here) please?”

I am not kidding you…it works every time! And not only that, she is starting to censor herself! She will start and before I can even say anything to her she says, “Mom. Let me try again.” It is like a little game, and it is so beautiful. And it also makes me smile every time she does it.

Obviously we are not a whine-free household. Yet. But, I’m holding onto the fantasy. Someday.

My little Em is going to be a great artist someday. I am convinced she will be an amazing painter or writer. And I try to encourage it whenever I can…however I must draw the line at composing the next great American novel or impressionist painting on my SHEETS. On my BED!

I tried to make her take a little nap last week while Lauren was here – so I put her in my bed for her rest. She asked if she could draw in her little notebook, and I, of course, told her that would be a great, restful thing to do.

Ha.

I am about to get into bed and our bed is littered with post-it notes. I mean, the entire pad was scattered around, on top of the sheets. I made a joke to J. about how instead of a bed covered in rose petals, I get a yellow, sticky paper covered one.

But as I started to pick up the paper, I uncovered the sheets. And this is what I saw…

Sorry for the poor quality of pics – it was very dark and I couldn’t get the sheets spread out really great – but if you look, you will see on my white sheets, written in blue ballpoint pen, “Emma, Momma, Daddy” and a few other unintelligible words.

I’ll admit it was kind of funny after the initial shock wore off and my anger passed. When I asked her why she did it, she said “I put the paper over it to cover it up!”

Of course.

Never did get an answer on why she wrote on the sheets. She has had privileges taken away. And she was just about to get her dog game back – when I went upstairs this morning and she had drawn all over her toybox! At least this time it was in pencil.

So the doggy game is going to be mine until Friday. We’ll see if she can control her artistic impulses until then.

So it took days to prepare and a day and half to recover…who knew throwing a little princess party for a 4-year old was going to be so much work.

I know it seemed like more work than it should have been because I have such high expectations for everything. I really wanted the house to be perfectly unpacked and in order (which it wasn’t), I had a picture of a grand castle cake in my mind (which turned into a horrible ordeal and mess), and although we had Uncle Jeff and Wendy and our very close friends here…it was a little hard not having all of our family and friends here. It was our first birthday that the grandparents, Aunt Meesh and the cousins couldn’t attend.

But despite all of this, we had a great time.  Emma was the most gracious, sweetest little Birthday princess, and I was very proud of her. And I think everyone else had a good time, too. I just put up all of the birthday pics on flickr – including ones that Em took with her new little FisherPrice digital camera. (A Birthday gift from Nena and Uncle Jeff!)

I think it just sunk in. She is really four. Wow.

Dear Emma Grace,

At this moment, four years ago I was working through some pretty good-sized contractions, thanking God that despite some pre-term labor scares, we had managed to keep you in your little cocoon until you had reached 38 weeks. I was also wondering if it was possible to keep you in for another 38 weeks.

I was so scared.

I was just so unconvinced that I was ready to be a mommy. I was so worried that I wouldn’t know what to do or what to say or how to raise you into a smart, productive member of society.

And four years later, even after having practice with you, and now your sister, too…I still don’t know what the heck I’m doing. I’m still scared. There are many days that I’m not sure I can be a good mommy. And I’m constantly questioning my ability to challenge you and nurture you into an upstanding young lady.

But I do know one thing – I wouldn’t trade one moment of it for anything. You have given your Daddy and I so much happiness and joy, we simply cannot imagine life without you. You have also made me a more patient person (well, at least a little more than I used to be). You have helped me to stop and experience the little things in life, the important things. And you have challenged me to be the best mommy I can be.

As I watch you grow into a charming, funny and sweet little girl I can’t help but feel so proud that you are my daughter. And with your new house, your new school, and your new friends, I just know you are going to have your best year yet. I am so happy to be here to experience it along with you.

Happy Birthday Sweet Gracie.
I love you,
Mommy

Really, you would think I was performing a hand amputation in our bathroom with no anesthesia this afternoon from the sounds of Em’s screams. I am talking blood-curdling, “help me I am being murdered”, screams that I am positive Daddy could hear sitting in the terminal at LAX (a good 15 miles away!).

What was the problem, you ask? A splinter. Not even a deep, you-have-to-dig-for-it splinter. It was a pretty good chunk of wood, but it was sticking out pretty far, so all I had to do was pluck it out. Easier said than done. I am literally holding Emma down so I can just get it out. She is screaming. Addie is standing next to me, thinking I am hurting Emma and she is screaming…it was quite the scene. When I finally got it out and got everyone settled down – Addie down for a nap, Emma on the couch with some cold water, we have this little exchange…

E: Mama. Aren’t you going to say “sorry?”
M: Um….for what, honey?
E: For hurting me!
M: I was just trying to get the splinter out so it wouldn’t get infected, Em. I didn’t make it hurt!
E: But it really hurt me.
M: Well, I’m sorry you GOT hurt – but I’d never hurt you on purpose, honey.
E: Okay. It’s ok. I’m sorry for making you hurt me, too.

I love that she realizes the importance of saying sorry when you hurt someone, but it broke my heart that she thought I somehow hurt her. If only she knew….