Dear Giovanna,
The day is finally here. You’re 5!
Turning five brings the end of your preschool days. You are swimming on your own, running free at the park and not looking back to see me, unless of course, you want to impress me with something you’re doing, like crossing the monkey bars without help and showing me all the things you can do without help. You choose and put on your own clothes. You make your own bed. You get your own snacks from the fridge. Five means you’re still a child, but yet you’re so independent.
You feel less like my baby and more like my girl. Maybe it’s that you’re my only child, but 5 feels so wonderful and bittersweet.
They say that five is the golden age of childhood – life is fun, full of adventure, giggles and glee and gloriously uncomplicated. It’s the age when everything is crazy fun, fascinating beyond belief, and adventure is around every corner. And I know it will be for you.
It’s hard to explain what it feels like watching you grow up.
It feels wonderful. It feels amazing. It feels too soon. It feels too fast. It feels like how are we here already?
You are my first love, my first baby, my first partner in crime, my first buddy, my first crack at being a mom. Your birth was my baptism into motherhood; my entry into the great unknown; my passport to the best adventure of my life.
It’s hard to explain what I felt the first time I laid eyes on you, and it’s hard to explain what I feel when I look at you now.
It’s hard to explain what it feels like to watch you grow up. It feels like unwrapping a present every single day. It feels like being completely unsure of how to parent “this stage”. It feels like awestruck wonder at the person you’re becoming. It feels like wondering if I’m doing things wrong. It feels like quietly crying when I realize how fast it’s going. It feels like cheering for every little and big aspect of your life. It feels like worrying too much. It feels like hugging you a little longer. It feels like staring at you when I think you aren’t looking. It feels like dreaming and imagining the adventures you will have. It feels like letting go and wanting to hang on at once. It feels like being so proud of your independence and heartbroken over it at the same time. It feels like clinging on to the moments you still call me Mama. It feels like the best adventure I’ve ever taken. It feels like magic.
Every year, you grow more into who you are destined to be. I see flashes of your personality which surprise me and excite me. I love seeing you grow. Even though, I would love you to be little forever. I want you to know who you are and to remind you there is more to come for the next five years. And above all else, for you to know I love you so deeply I could not possibly express it all in words.
When you walk into a room and talk to someone new, you bring a smile to their face. Your joy in life brings joy to others. And it pours out to every person you interact with on a daily basis. Everywhere we go, someone stops to talk with you. You ask their name. You tell them yours… “Giovanna is my first name. Sofia is my middle name. Koontz is my last name”. You love to engage with people, especially if they have a dog you can love on. You show them your animals (or whatever toy we are lugging around that day) and you tell them all of their names as well!
You have grown so much and made me so proud, yet you, my love; you have forced me to grow. To make you proud. When I feel defeated and overwhelmed with life, there you are, a sturdy and resilient little spunky trooper reminding me that there are so many beautiful small things in life that truly are big things. You remind me to stop and smell the roses. You remind me to bask in what is and to stop for a few minutes worrying about what is not. The last night you were four, you chose to get donuts and catch the sunset on Siesta Key. On our walk back to the car at the end of the night, we had our arms around each other and you said “Mama, are you going to cry?” I said, yes (as I was crying) and you very wisely reminded me “it’s ok Mama. It’s good to just get it all out!” You are listening…even though sometimes I think you aren’t!!
Every moment of your childhood, I have cherished the opportunity to be your mom. To have someone to call “my daughter.” Every day I strive to help make you the best you. And as I help you become the best you, you make me a better me.
I love the way you look at me like I’m your favorite person on the planet. I know you think that I hung the moon. It is my hope that I can still be someone you’re proud of, someone that makes you happy, someone that you’ll still want to share everything with when you realize that I’m NOT perfect. Because that day will certainly come. (I just hope not too soon!)
You are brave, strong, smart, independent, stubborn, strong-willed, loving, bold, selective, warm, bossy, difficult, easy, cuddly, and tough all in one. You are perfectly you. As you grow, you become more defined. More yourself. More beautifully you.
Your 5-year-old world is so wonderful, I never want to leave. I just want time to stop this very second. To pause long enough that I can remember every little thing you said and every little thing that you did. Many think I’m crazy writing to you daily, but it’s my way of hanging on to every piece of you so nothing is ever forgotten. Sometimes you scold me and tell me to turn off the video or stop taking pictures of you. I just can’t help it. When I look back on them, I cry tears of happiness and nostalgia. Already. And you are only 5!!!
Sometimes when you’re playing, I find myself admiring you. You are beautiful. Your curly hair, cherub face and your big, beautiful eyes lined with thick eyelashes — just wow. You are angelic. But more importantly, your heart is beautiful too. You have kindness at your core and are the most compassionate kid I know. If someone is sad, you want them to feel happy. If someone feels scared, you reach out to hold their hand. If someone is hurt, you want them to feel better. And if you don’t know what is wrong with someone, you want to find out. I love your heart for people. I want so much to lift you up into the light and teach you to embrace every single thing about you that makes you you.
This is especially important as you get ready to head to Kindergarten in the fall. You’ll begin creating a life for yourself that is less dependent on me every day. Your world will expand to include new teachers, new friends, and new experiences that won’t include me.
And that’s wonderful!
You’ll meet new people and face new challenges. Enjoy these moments, sweet girl. Daddy and I will be beside you every step of the way. We can’t wait to keep seeing the world through your eyes and from your perspective. Blaze your trail and show everyone how far you can go when you keep kindness in your heart.
I envy the fun you’re going to have, the things you’re going to learn, and the people you’re going to meet. To you the world is fresh and new, and something to be amazed by. Learning something new every day comes naturally to you because your heart and mind are so open to the wonder around you.
I will hold my breath and hope even more. I will hope the world is kind to you when my eyes are not watching you. But not everything you experience is going to be happy. You will find that not everyone you meet is going to be kind. You will have to learn this the hard way, by having your heart broken and your trust broken. You will become a little less open, and a little more cynical. You will trust less, and guard yourself more. We will not be able to keep you from the sadness in the world, but we will help you learn to cope with it. Although there will be sadness and difficulty, you won’t have to face it alone.
People will say mean things and make you feel as though you’re not enough, or that you have to change to fit in. They will exclude you. They will be cruel. They will try to lead you to make bad choices, to go against what we have taught you, and you will make mistakes. Lots. And lots. Of mistakes.
Part of me wishes I could spare you from the pain that you are bound to experience. The part of me that wants to rush to you when you fall down also wants to rush to your defense when you encounter mean girls. The part of me whose heart aches with yours wants to protect you from everything bad.
Of course, I can’t do those things. I cannot keep you from all bad things. I cannot spare you from pain and suffering because those experiences have value, too. You will learn how to handle adversity and become an unstoppable woman. You will handle the mean girls and become a better person for it. You will have your heart broken and learn that you deserve better.
We learn more from our mistakes than we do from being right all the time. We become better people when we are faced with those who seek to tear us down. We join a sisterhood of strong, confident, kick-ass woman when we survive our childhoods.
But through all of this, I want you to remember one thing baby girl.
To me, you are perfect.
To me, you are everything.
There is nothing you can do, nothing you can say, to make me think otherwise. You will always be my sweet daughter. No matter what happens in life, I will always love you. And there will NEVER be anything which will change this for me.
I will always be here to listen when you want to talk. You will always be heard. I will be here to hold your hand when you need a boost of courage. I will be here to wipe your tears when someone breaks your heart. In me you will always have a safe place. A soft place to fall. A safe place to fail. A place where you can be totally, completely yourself, even if yourself is awkward, self-conscious, unsure, know-it-all, sometimes inappropriate girl who’s still trying to figure out exactly who she is.
I know you will make us proud. I know you will shine. I hope you are always proud of yourself.
This is life at 5. And I wouldn’t stop it for the world, but I sure wouldn’t mind pausing it.
All I can say is, thank you for choosing me. Thank you for being mine.
Keep going, I love watching you grow into a powerful girl.
I love you!! Happy birthday sweet love.
Love, your proud Mama
