Meet the Ladybug.
Actually, I usually just call her Lady or Bug. Or sweet pea. Or succotash. Or honey bunches of oats. Or Ruby Tuesday. Or Rubix Cube.
Lately she likes to call herself “a big K5 girl.” Apparently kindergarten has made quite an impression. I worried how the end of K5 might affect her self-awareness until I heard her telling “her boys” that next year she’s going to be a “big K6 girl.” I guess “big 1st grade girl” just doesn’t have the same ring to it.
Don’t get me wrong–we like her given name. I mean, we gave it to her. But this little chickie and I have a history that just can’t be expressed by something as normal as her regular name.
She and I experienced heartburn and morning sickness for the first time together. (Don’t get me wrong, I was green-faced sick with both boys too–it just wasn’t new and exciting to me then). We read Gone with the Wind twice together during our maternity leave. She was there when we moved into our beautiful, brand new house, and didn’t have water for four days from our brand new well.
She survived our new-parent-carseat-meets-snowsuit adventure.
She and I spent many a drive home from the babysitter, just the two of us, talking about Traditional Neighborhood Development patterns and singing our ABCs.
I just realized looking at this old picture that she lived in our house with us before we got rid of that awful carpet in the dining room and replaced that kitchen island (which Grandma loved, but I couldn’t stand).
And she, of all my little brood, knows what it was like to be hugged by my mom and dad. She might not remember it right now, but somewhere, buried deep in that big, overflowing heart of hers is a feeling of warmth, comfort, love, and home that is just an echo of what was showered on the two of us from the moment we were each conceived. That sort of love shapes who you are forever. I know firsthand.
That’s what it means to say “You are here in my heart and my heart will go on, and on…”
