Kindergarten

Ella bounded out of bed, so anxious to get up and start kindergarten. She got ready cheerfully, but as we got closer to her bus arrival time, a look of concern and worry came over her.

I knealt down to say, "Ella...you aren't allowed to take toys with you, but if you want to go into your room and find something really small, we'll hide it in your backpack and only you will know it's there. That way you'll have something from home." Her face lit up.

She sprinted down the hall to her room, and came out holding this in her white-knuckled grasp:



She said, "the mommy from my dollhouse...she kinda looks like you."

I (loudly) whispered a few tips into the Mommy's ear, so if Ella got scared, she could peek into her backpack and hear some reassuring phrases. Ella pretended not to listen, but craned her neck to hear my advice: "please tell her that every kid there will feel a little bit scared.Tell her to make the teacher's job easy, to listen and learn a lot, and remember that if she wants to make new friends, the only thing she needs is her beautiful smile."

We tucked "Mommy" down deep into a secret pocket, and walked hand-in-hand out to the end of the driveway to wait for the schoolbus.







Yes, my sweet girl, it's a new day—and you are ready for it!

The First Day

tomorrow morning
we'll wake her gently
feed her a warm breakfast
brush her hair and teeth

we'll take her outside
with cameras and kleenex
at a somewhat nocturnal hour
and walk her to the end of our driveway.

we'll hear it coming for her
the giant yellow machine
puffing dark diesel smoke
pulling loud pneumatic brakes

the steel jaws of the monster
will creak open wide, waiting
she'll break from our grasp
and enter, ever so innocently.

we'll stand there and say
but she was just teething
first steps were on Mothers Day
how can this be?

and what if they don't know
her have-to-pee dance
or that her extra barrette
is in her backpack pocket?

we'll stand at the driveway's edge
as she waves back from the window
we'll watch as her tiny hand
disappears in the morning fog.

Fashionista or Hippie Chick?

Ella has always embraced our love of nature, animals and the outdoors.


(Releasing baby butterflies that she grew from pupae stage)

Last year, she found my jewelry box and makeup drawer. Now that she's five, we're dealing with a teenager in a tiny body.

it's not uncommon to find her on the phone, chatting away to someone. It could be her Grandma or a poor telemarketer...Ella is still happy to tell them about her silly band collection or her new bike.

I'll get into the car and find her buckled up, donning sunglasses and hot pink lipstick, prepared for any adventure.

And oh, her love of clothes...at 8:30am, this is how she arrived at the breakfast table to have her cereal.


She was in her room, working on something quietly for over an hour. I peeked in to find her doing a song and dance about the color pink. Her baby dolls were all propped up, "watching."

Just when I wonder which one of these personas will bloom as she gets older, I am reminded; she's no different than most of the great women I know. She's a mix of all of us, yet she holds her own.

And on the third day of camping with no shower, she knows how to strike a pose.

Yes indeed—this little lady will do just fine in the world.