Posted in Letter to Katie

Bathtub conversations

Dear Katie,

One day you will probably cringe over what I’m about to write, just please remember that I love you.

This morning, as you and Matthew were in the bathtub, we had a conversation that went like this:

You: Mommy, Matthew has a penis.

Me: Yep, he sure does.

You: When he grows up, will he have a vagina like me?

Me: Nope, he will always have a penis.

You: When he grows up will he be a mommy?

Me: No…he may be a daddy, but only girls are mommies.

You: Oh…okay. When I grow up, I’m going to be a doctor.

Me: I’m so happy to hear that Katie. Will you also be a mommy?

You: You’re not listening to me. I said I’m going to be a doctor.

Me: Well, Katie. You can be both. You don’t have to choose between the two.

You: Really? I can? Perfect! I’ll be a doctor and a mom!

Me: Yes, my sweet girl, you absolutely can be both.

And Katie, I hope you never limit yourself.

You can be anything you dream of being and I’ll be right here to remind you to reach for everything you want in this life.

With a heart bursting with love for you,

Mommy

Where Is That Written?

Dear Katie,

The week after Christmas is when you’re supposed take your tree down.

This year we had two and I suspected that the one in your bedroom would be the toughest one to actually put away.

We told you a few days in advance so that you could savor those last few nights with your hard-earned Christmas tree.

You looked at us and simply asked why?

Why do we have to take the tree down?

And Daddy and I stopped and looked at one another.

Why is that? Where is that rule written?

So, we packed away our big tree and allowed the whimsy of Christmas to stay in your bedroom.

This morning, I walked into your room and saw that you had removed most of your ornaments from your tree and “decorated” your entire room.

Small shimmery ornaments hung from every knob, pull, and hook.

My first thought was to tell you that although we were letting you keep your tree up, you would have to leave the ornaments on the tree.

But then, I asked myself why?

Why shouldn’t you be allowed to be a four year old? Why couldn’t the ornaments hang from dresser knobs?

Where is that written?

Ralph Waldo Emerson once wrote,

To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.

That…exactly that.

You decorate that dresser, Katie.

And I’ll sit back and marvel at your creativity and joy.

With a heart full of love,

Mommy

Smudges

lelli kelly, letter to my daughter, letter to my child, childhoodMy beautiful Katie,

We had a rough morning last week.

In a line that felt like it would go on for eternity, you counted floor tiles, jumping from foot to foot.

“See me, Mommy?”

Of course I saw you…

Four steps forward, turn, and back to me and Matthew.

Just as you grew weary of this game, another mother and her little girl got in line behind us.

Your face lit up to see a potential friend. You retreated to me, pulled me to your level, and asked if you could say hi. continued

Coloring Your Childhood

crayola crayonsDear Katie,

You came downstairs today, earlier than I anticipated from quiet time, with paper in hand, eager to show me a picture you had drawn.

And the joy in your face was more important than the fact that you had come downstairs far too early.

Instead of sending you back upstairs until quiet time was officially over, I invited you to bring your new crayons downstairs to color with me.

We sat, pulled out clean sheets of crisp paper, and spread the crayons before us.

From a sea of colors, with each crayon you chose, you asked me to read you the names.

Names that were more than just the words on the colored wrappers.

Names that bring to mind stories that I will share with you one day.

Salmon.

The color of my childhood home…a home that held tremendous sadness, but also immeasurable joy. The home in which I learned about trust, loss, love, and survival.

Wisteria.

The color of the profusely-blooming vine behind the house we lived in before you were born. Your daddy and I sat beneath those vines, on still summer nights, and dreamed of you.

Cerulean.

Daddy’s mommy’s favorite color.  One day I will tell you about the rich velvets that she wore…cerulean, turquoise, violet. I will tell how those jewel tones mirrored the vibrancy of her soul.

Aquamarine.

The color of the sea where Daddy and I were married. One day I will tell you how marrying Daddy brought me a peace that I’d never known before. I will tell you that in those moments, the fear that I had carried around for my entire life was washed away.

Fuchsia.

The color of the Bleeding Heart plants that flanked my grandparents’ home…the home that held only happiness, acceptance, and love.

Outer Space Blue.

The color of my grandfather’s tie…the length of silk with which he taught me the Windsor Knot…one of the many lessons taught to me by the man who stepped into the role of father when I lost my own.

Asparagus and Gold.

The color of my mother’s eyes. The eyes that reassured me that things would be okay. The eyes that have never let me down.

One day, you’ll pull crayons out of a similar box for your children and they’ll look at you, waiting to hear your stories.

May your pile of crayons be huge and colorful…and the stories you share, happy ones.

With a heart brimming with love and dreams of helping you to color your childhood,

Mommy

A Birthday Letter for My Beautiful Daughter

My beautiful Katie,

Sweet baby girl, you’re turning four today.

Four fantastic years old.

I’m not sure how that is even possible.

Mommy and Daddy waited so long for you, Katie.

We worried that you’d never come along. But you finally did.

And that waiting was so worth it…you are exactly the baby we were meant to have.

Days old...

I thought I knew what it would be like to be a mother.

I thought I knew what it meant to love.

Then, you arrived and taught me that I knew so very little.

One year old...

You taught me that once you have a child, you are more vulnerable than you ever dreamed possible.

You showed me watching you sleep was the most important thing that I could do on any given afternoon.

Two years old...

Loving you has shown me that I can’t control everything…that sometimes the most amazing moments come from letting go just a little…that sometimes it’s better to let life guide us just a bit.

You have taught me to laugh at myself, because nothing makes you laugh harder.

Three years old...

You have helped me to realize that throwing caution to the wind every once in a while doesn’t have to be scary.

You have taught me that the amount of love that the heart can hold is endless…that just when I am certain that I couldn’t possibly love you more, you make my heart nearly explode.

Nearly four years old...

You have shown me that life passes so quickly.

I don’t want to waste a single moment of this time that I’ve been given to share with you.

You have brought me more joy than I ever dreamed possible.

Happy birthday, my beautiful baby.

With more love than you can possibly imagine,

Mommy

About me

Nichole Beaudry @NicholeBeaudry Location: Northern California
Each and every day, I strive to appreciate the wonder, beauty, and whimsy in the small moments, the moments that, when strung together, form a lifetime.
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