Dear Lulu,

It’s been quite a long time since my last letter to you, love, but I want you to know there were only good intentions behind my decision to keep you a bit further away from the public eye. As another year is coming to a close, I thought it was about time I wrote you a little something, before my memories begin to fade and I’ve forgotten this year completely. About the time I stopped writing to you, you began a strange transformation from little angel baby to big girl. In fact, I am no longer allowed to call you my “baby.” When I do, you promptly furrow your brow in to a very serious expression and say, “I am NOT a baby.” When I’m in a giddy mood and respond with “Yes, you are, you’re my Lulu baby,” you get right up in my face and say sternly, “No, I am not a baby. I am Lucy Goosey.”

You are right, Lulu, you are definitely not a baby. And when I went to the grocery store yesterday, I walked up the baby/toddler aisle and for the first time in over two and a half years, did not buy anything. There just wasn’t anything I needed. You’re out of diapers, you don’t use a sippy cup, you refuse to eat Gerber toddler food anymore…so I slowly walked down the aisle, contemplating how quickly things had changed. Wasn’t it just yesterday I would rush to the store in need of baby food and diapers and wipes and anything that could make my life one iota easier? And now that aisle is obsolute to me.

You have taken to preschool like a fish to water, and it seems to be the place you truly thrive. You love your teachers, your friends, and every day when we drive up to your school, you freak out like you haven’t been there in ages. “I see my school! My school!” you’ll shout as we pull in to the parking lot, and then you almost leap out of the car to get to the entrance. School has been such a great thing for you and me. For you it seems to be teaching so much about socilizing, education, friendships and creativity. When I see art hanging on your classroom wall it’s not hard to find which one is yours. While everyone else colors a few scribbles on the page, you cover the page in crayon. When each child glues one magazine photo that they’ve cut out, one can hardly see your paper as it’s completely covered in clippings. It’s good to know that even with a structured, educational environment, you’re still my silly, crazy, creative Lulu.

For me, your school has given the freedom to really work hard at my career with little guilt. I see how happy you are to be there, how much you enjoy it, and it helps me overcome the sad feeling that I’m not the one with you all day. You still come home and hold me tight each night. You still wake up in the morning with the first words out of your mouth being, “Mama, I love you.” And not just a quick, “I love you.” It’s drawn out, full of feeling and happiness. Jeez, it’s incredible.

With your newfound status as a “big girl” have also come some challenges. You know how to work a room, which is exceedingly frightening. You have learned how to manipulate most adults with a charming smile and a warm hug, giving your father and I a hell of a job keeping you grounded. Now, when you are mad at me or I won’t give you what you want, you stick out your bottom lip and say sternly, “You can’t come to my party.” If that still doesn’t get you what you are seeking, you’ll follow it up with, “Daddy can come to my party. Grammy can come to my party” and then you’ll stomp off. It’s hard to take that threat seriously, Lulu, as without me, your party would be totally lame. I’m the only parent who remembers to bring cupcakes or presents, and without those, your party would be a bit of a bust.

I think my favorite thing about you, Lulu, is that I can see you are probably the coolest kid on the planet. While I aspire (and usually fail) to be a cool, young, geeky hipster, you succeed without even trying. You love great music and movies (Thomas the Train excluded, I love you, Lu, but I freaking hate that stupid train), and dress like a kid straight out of Kansas City’s art district. When you pick out your own clothes, the theme is usually stripes or pink, both of which could never be pulled off by me, but you look like you’re straight out of a J. Crew catalog. You even love to perform, something I could never have the guts to do. This was proven in it’s entirety by the fact that while at Grammy’s for Christmas, you not only figured out how to turn on her kareoke machine, but how to turn on the microphone and belt out some of your favorite Christmas classics. You even did a throaty rap to Mary Had A Little Lamb. Good thing you seem to have a heavy dose of geek in you, or else you could end up as another Paris Hilton.

Lulu, thanks for continuing your streak of awesomeness this year. 2008 began with my baby, but is ending with my daughter. The future holds many exciting things for our family, but I know you can handle it. You will just smile and laugh and hold my hand, we’ll make it, love.

Yours,
Mama