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Dear Daughter, As You Turn 5 – A Letter From A Mom To Her Second Daughter

Posted: December 25, 2019

I will still embarrass you by being the mom who claps the loudest when you come on stage on your annual day. I will be this, and try my best to be more.

Dear Daughter,

As you turn five soon, my thoughts turn to the day you were born. Time has just flown by. Just yesterday, your didi was five when you were born and here you are – a little-big girl now.

Being my second born, I never could give as much singular attention to you as I could to your didi. The first child gets it all – the pampering, the scolding, the worries. By the time you came along, I knew the game. Or so I thought.

We were experienced parents. So, we had seen it all – the fevers, the flus, the scratches on the elbow. Why then do I still feel as anxious when you cough at the midnight? I know it will pass, right? Why do I worry still if I kept you warm enough? It is not like your didi ever froze with cold.

It’s worrying about different things this time

Guess second time parenting is not less worrying – it’s just different worrying. Worrying whether I am spending enough time, worrying whether I am being biased, worrying whether I might make the same mistakes I made with didi.

I have definitely enjoyed watching you grow up more. Since I had done it once, I knew I wouldn’t do a totally botched up job this time. That gave me a few liberties. I have taken you few times lesser to the park, I have narrated fewer stories to you. Every time you cry, I don’t jump (your dad and I differ here- he thinks I still do!)

When you are mischievous, it makes me want to indulge you some more. After all, you, too, will grow up soon.

Just some small bits of friendly musings – coz parents don’t really advise now you know. We are all friends. Yes, we are all too cool to be parents!

Run with the wind in your hair

Play a little more in the sun, I love the way your cheeks turn tomato red when you do. Mobile, iPad and the TV can wait. I know you love them and can swipe left – right and centre faster than Momma can, but still. Running with wind in your hair is surely more fun.

Talk to the trees and the flowers – don’t bother if someone thinks you are crazy. They listen, you know. And they love you right back. Start with the sapling you get on your birthday. Watch it grow with you.

Make shapes out of clouds. I know you have far more interesting (and expensive!) toys in your room, but this can be one endless game. Ma spent many an evening doing just that and nothing more. There is a different happiness is doing just nothing sometimes.

Enjoy your puris as much as you love your pasta and pizza. I know, I know, it doesn’t seem as much fun or cool but try. Trust me, you will crave for them one day when you go to the land of burger and fries.

Make your own loony characters – the stick figures you make of your family are way more precious than any of Disney princesses. And I know you love those too!

Pssttt… I love them too!

Be silly and imaginative

Be silly, do crazy stuff, laugh till your stomach hurts. Sometimes I will laugh with you, sometimes I will roll my eyes. But trust me, there will always be a smile on my face at the end of the day after putting you to bed.

Wonder about that bright thing in the sky called moon. And yes, it does follow our car everywhere we go. Coz you are his favourite child. Always believe that.

I promise to embarrass you like every mom does

Do all this, and I promise to let you be. I will not send you from one class to the other in order to make you the perfect child. Neither will I ask you to recite poems and stories or dance in front of guests. I will still embarrass you by being the mom who claps the loudest when you come on stage on your annual day (be very glad I cannot whistle!)

And I will also be the mom who cries in class when they light a diya on your birthday.

I will be all this, and try my best to be more. Well, I am older and bit lethargic but the love is nowhere lesser.

Always remember this my angel.

Love You,

Ma

A version of this was first published here.

Picture credits: Pexels

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