Dear Jaimes

Being a "big girl" is not defined by age but by emotional resilience in the face of tricky-ness...

Dear Jaimes,

I began writing your annual birthday letter three weeks ago and have struggled to complete it. This is mostly because as you get older, our days expand to include more extracurricular activities, leaving your mushy-hearted mum little space or time to sequester myself away in an isolated cabin to reflect and sob my face off (also a yearly tradition—ask Daddy).

In previous drafts, I started by quoting adorable things you’ve said, recalling your milestones, and touting your dazzling achievements (you are quite accomplished for a young lady of just five!). But I kept ending up in the wrong place, quietly crying into my turtleneck over the recent retirement of your sound machine and bedtime pull-ups.

Five feels different from previous years in particular yet undefinable ways.

Rewind to last year: You’ve just turned four and are barreling full tilt into your ballet phase (which mercifully only lasts six months and a day). I remember this detail because you were decked out in your rehearsal leotard, tights, pale pink leather slippers, and cropped warm-up sweater (Jaimes Henke does not half-ass aesthetics). You sat on the floor fidgeting with your ballet bag, your tiny brows furrowed. I asked what was the matter and you said, “It’s tricky being four…But five is going to be even trickier.” And then you cried.

Let me tell you, girlfriend, four-year-old Jaimes was dead on the money.

Your first week as a career five-year-old was as smooth as buttercream frosting. Why wouldn’t it be? In the Henke house, the first week of February is Birthday Week! There are banners and balloons and sweet treats and themed surprises and you are allowed to employ ‘it is my birthday…’ until the cows come home (or for seven full days, whichever happens first).

But then it was as if an insulated layer of your childhood bubble was unceremoniously peeled away, revealing more of the world’s unsettling complexities at closer range. This occurrence has both enthralled and bewildered you (and us. If I’m being honest, we are also a tad bewildered).

For example, last night, you were amazed and delighted to learn that paper comes from trees, and then, in the next breath, you were enraged and heartbroken for the animals and ecosystems impacted by tree harvesting.

Aside from the intensity of emotion crackling beneath your skin waiting to strike like lightning with little to no warning, the trickiest thing about parenting right now is attempting to distill information through age-appropriate filters while remaining honest and honoring your intelligence.

I want you to be informed and I want to protect your innocence.

Like you said, tricky, tricky, tricky.

Over the past few weeks, we’ve had many pre-bedtime “night chats” about your post-five feelings. It seems that you have shouldered some heavy expectations of what it means to get older. You’ve expressed concerns that you “don’t know how to be a big girl”, and I am here to ease your sweet, troubled mind.

Being a Big Girl is not defined by age but by emotional resilience in the face of trickyness.

I.e. A one-year-old who falls and gets up repeatedly while learning to walk is a Big Girl whereas a thirty-seven-year-old who doesn’t take responsibility for their actions? not a Big Girl.

We live in a world that tries to teach you safety and belonging only exist within tidy rules and binaries: black or white, right or wrong, blue or pink.

But the truth—which, on some level, you’ve already intuited—is that every human being contains multitudes, spectrums, and contradictions. We are all unique and complex. Beautiful and ugly. Good and evil. Capable of healing and destruction.

A prime example of this would be the night you were body-snatched, and a rage-sobbing version of you lay prostrate on the floor of your bedroom, howling, “I don’t like the way I’m acting, mama!”

Because of this, the spaces we inhabit (even the ones that appear split between dark and light) exist in infinite shades of grey.

All that to say, I WISH there were hard-fast rules for what it means to be a Big Girl, but there aren’t. However, I can offer you a few supple guidelines gleaned from three-plus decades on this spinning mud ball.

You’ve recently learned how to use ‘decade’ in a sentence and it’s my favorite. :)

Big girls ask for help.

Yeah, independence is cool but have you ever had unconditional love and support? LET PEOPLE LOVE YOU—Don’t make me come down there.

Big girls own up to their mistakes.

You screwed up. You’ll do it again! Have grace for yourself. Mistakes humble us and allow us to meet others with compassion.

Big girls lead with curiosity and not judgment.

Curiosity opens doors, judgment closes them. Also, being a Judge Judy is lame. Don’t yuck another person’s yum, and all that.

Big girls ask follow-up questions.

You’ll end up somewhere deeper and more interesting. *You are already a master at this.

Big girls say, “I don’t know”.

No one has all the answers and if they claim to they’re A) selling something. B) full of shit/on an ego trip. Or C) Terrified. In any case, run!

Big girls trust themselves.

No one knows you better than you. Don’t ever forget that. Who am I kidding? You will forget this from time to time. When you do, call me or daddy or your #2 mom or your bestie or any one of your aunties (blood and soul related)—WE WILL REMIND YOU! Pinky promise. Speaking of which…

Big girls don’t break pinky promises.

Don’t even offer that pinky if you’re not already on your way to do the thing. Trust broken is not quickly or easily rebuilt.

Big girls don’t say ‘Yes’ to things they actually want to say ‘No’ to.

Look, I’m going to be so honest right now—this one is HARD. I am STILL working on this and occasionally I STILL do it and then it eats me alive and I have to go undo it which is way more awkward than just saying ‘no thanks’ the first time.

Big girls are honest with themselves.

While honesty remains the best policy roughly 85% of the time (extenuating circumstances are real, babe), at some point in your life you will lie to me, your friends, your romantic partners, and to the random guy wanting to tell you about his company’s cable services. By and large, these deceits will be harmless and/or easily repaired but the lies that inflict lasting harm are the ones we tell ourselves. “To thine own self be true.”

Big girl bonus: Big girls set and honor boundaries. Big girls are not afraid of carbs. Big girls enjoy their own company. Big girls do not turn down the opportunity to nap. Big girls know that scissors are the superior pizza cutter. Big girls do cry (and they’ve done the necessary work to process the fact that Fergie was wrong).

Five will be your biggest, chewiest, trickiest, sparkliest, absolute-best year yet.

Tricky doesn’t always mean bad. It does mean challening and uncomfortable. It sometimes means scary. It usually means surprises.

I am so excited to witness all the ways you surprise yourself this year.

You are brave and resilient and discerning and kind.

You are curious and passionate and a deep listener.

You are a truth-seeker and extraordinary judge of character.

You are feral in your compassion.

You are every. Good. Thing.

You are already the BIGGEST girl.

I love you, Jaimes Pamela Henke.

I love you when you don’t like the way you’re acting.

I love you when you’re sassy.

I love you when you don’t like me very much.

I love you when you don’t pick up your things.

I love you when your feelings are so big they threaten to flatten us both.

I’m right here (I will ALWAY be right here) loving you home.

Xo,

Mama