Seven

Alexis,

I wish I had started this when you were about to turn one. Writing to you at the end of each year, talking about the year that has passed and the one that will follow. I feel late to the game. But we’re here now, so let’s make this a tradition that starts now.

It’s your eighth birthday. I can’t really gather my thoughts about you turning eight. Time moves differently after you have children and your measurement of time becomes their growth. As a parent, I think your life becomes so entwined with your child’s that no memory can be remembered in isolation. When a memory comes into my thoughts, I think of where you were and how old you were; what you were doing and learning. And, of course, every birthday I think back to when you were born and the lead up to your birth. I think about what life was like this time eight years ago. You were tucked away inside me and I assumed you would remain as such for a few more weeks. But, soon you would make your grand entrance and I would meet the love of my life, the stealer of my heart, the capturer of my thoughts, and the apple of my eye. I would meet my Alexis, Lex, Lexi, Lexi-lu-pop, Lexi-Lu, Lu-pop, Lu, babe, babe face, possum, possum tree, small fry, small human. I would meet you.

Moving forward many years, when you turned seven, your life looked very different to how it does now. Then you were an only child. In both of your homes, you only lived with one other person; your dad at his house, and me at mine. A few days after your birthday, though, you found out you were going to be a big sister, that there was another little life growing inside me. Your dad was getting married that November and his house would go from just you and your dad to you, your dad, step-mum and step-sister. As my stomach expanded, Cobby moved in and we adjusted to a house with three people in it, while we prepared for the arrival of number four. In November, we also welcomed Georgie and Charlie into our lives, two little bunnies that have caused so much grief, but also a lot of love and laughs.

Your seventh year has definitely been your most eventful year yet. I think there are years and times and situations that define and shape us as individuals and I truly believe this year has been one of those for you. I had a feeling that this year would make you or break you, and I was prepared for both. This year has shown me your determination, your strength, your bravery and your resilience as you’ve faced the highs, the lows and the uncertainties of life. You have had to experience so many new emotions and learn how to navigate them. There have been lots of tears and lots of learning.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt as protective of you as I have this year. You struggled at school with bullying. My heart would sink, and does sink, every time my phone rings and someone from school is on the other end of the phone. I’ve been to meetings, I’ve spoken to the principal, sent emails, and spoken to your teacher. I worry when I drop you off at school, but you always leave with a smile on your face and run down to your classroom, not before turning around, over and over, as we yell out to each other “I love you”. I’m proud of you, my darling. You have shown so much resilience and bravery. It makes me sad that you’ve had to find these qualities within yourself at such a young age. It’s heartbreaking that such young children not only know how to bully, intimidate and hurt other children, but also that those who are targeted have to learn how to manage such treatment.

I’ve tried to keep our home and our relationship as normal and as stable as possible. I want our home to be a place that you’ll always know what you’re going to walk into. A place full of hugs, laughter, rest, peace and love. I continually try to make it a safe haven; when you drop your school bag on the floor, all the fears, worries and hurt from the day fall with it.

Of course, as we welcomed Solomon into our lives, it hasn’t always been the quiet place that we were used to. His crying gets the better of you, which I appreciate and understand. Although it hasn’t always been smooth sailing, you are gracious, patient and understanding when he needs something. You are so helpful with him. I’m so grateful for every time you put his dummy back in, every time you bounce him in his bouncer so I can get ready in the morning. Every time you get a nappy, or wipes, or a toy, you have no idea how much of a difference it makes. I know that Solomon absolutely adores you. I love watching him as he watches you. He stares at you each time you move across the room and a smile creeps across his face every time he sees you. You are a beautiful big sister, just as you are a beautiful daughter.

Though you are resilient, you are also so soft of heart! Thank you for your patience with me as I learn that although you are the big sister now, you are still so young. While it is in your nature to be independent, sassy, and sarcastic, sometimes you also need to cry, talk about your worries, and want a million cuddles. I sometimes think you feel like you need to be one or the other, but you don’t. You can and need to be both.

Just the other day you got angry at me for something. When I asked what was wrong, you articulated what you were feeling so well, “Mum, I don’t want to be late for soccer training and there is so much I have to do!” Upon saying this you became calmer, gave me a cuddle and asked for help. Your emotions are big, and you should embrace them. You don’t need to know how to deal with them yet. Let the adults around you help you navigate what you’re feeling and support you. Sometimes I can’t even navigate my emotions, so don’t worry too much when you can’t navigate yours. Give yourself lots and lots of time.

I worry about the shame you seem to carry when I get frustrated with you. You have nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to fear. You say "sorry" over and over, but it isn't needed. It seems as though you feel like I love you less when I'm feeling frustrated. But my feelings are not an indication of my love. My feelings change, my love does not.

This year, COVID-19 also entered our lives. Bloody COVID. Although, I hate COVID and the toll that it has taken on our lives, I’m grateful for our time at home together because it meant that you could spend time with your newborn brother and we could all adjust to life as a family. We both very quickly learnt that I’m not good at homeschooling, but I don’t think either of us were surprised by that. But we also baked together, played board games and made bath bombs. We watched survivor and made up our own survivor challenges. We watched live feeds from the zoo and drew elephants. And, we did do some schoolwork. The truth is that I was more worried about you feeling safe, secure and at ease. I tried to make life as easy as possible. There were a lot of snuggles, facetime with friends, and also dealing with the anger you felt about staying at home, the fear you felt about the virus, and the sadness you felt because you missed your peers. Lockdown and homeschooling weren’t just about doing the tasks that the teacher set for you, it encompassed so much more than that. I love the extended time with you and knew that we would never have this again, so I embraced it as best I could, and you embraced it the best you could.

I’m glad for your sassy, confident attitude, though sometimes it can become borderline rude. I’m scared of destroying your confidence, so I don’t always know how to respond. I think your attitude is important and I think it’s of benefit to you and will continue to be in the future. As the world tries to steal your sass from you, I want to be the one who encourages you to keep it and fight for it.

Alexis, I’m proud of you and the person that you have become.
You are strong and strong of character.
You are hilarious; you always have us laughing and in shock.
You aren’t really good at taking a joke when it’s on you, but you’re learning.
You have big feelings in that big heart of yours and you are getting better at articulating them.
You have really come into your own style. You are forever stealing my hoodies and you have started telling me to check with you when I buy you clothes, amusingly telling me, “Mum, you and I just have such different styles!”
At school, you have a beautiful group of friends and you are well loved by your peers and teachers. I’m proud of you for that, but I’ll always be prouder of you for the way you treat others. I would prefer for you to get rewards for your character than your academia.

I’ve seen the way this year has challenged you. The way it’s tested you, your emotions, your mind and your heart. It’s tired you out, mentally and emotionally.
But, at times, it has also offered excitement and opportunity and learning.
And you, you have embraced this last year with the widest of arms and an open heart.

As for this next year, Alexis, I hope that the next year is easier and calmer than the last, with no big changes like this one has thrown at you. I hope that the bullying stops, but I promise to stand with you and support you if it doesn’t. I want you to be kind, but to have boundaries and expectations of others. You don’t have to be kind if it means putting yourself at risk of being hurt. Some people need you to teach them how to treat you. It shouldn’t be your job, but it will be.
You also need to be kind to yourself. I want to teach you that saying “no” can sometimes be the kindest thing you can do for yourself. Always speak your mind and your heart, and ask for help when you need it.

I promise to try and keep the magic in your childhood for as long as I can. Even though you are growing older, I promise to try and delight you whenever I can. I promise to play with you, even when you want to play taxis and accountants (potentially the two worst games ever), I promise to learn to prioritise play time over cleaning.
I promise to talk to you about the yucky and hard stuff. I’m learning that protecting you from everything isn’t setting you up for success.

Above all else, I promise that you will always be loved, encouraged, seen and heard. No matter what age you are.

Goodbye seven, hello eight.