I’ve dreamed of and built you up since I was just a little girl myself. I imagined your sandy blonde hair, button nose, your cerulean blue eyes. I designed dresses for you with the touch of my smiley face pencil on a sketch pad. I’ve thought up all the things I would teach you, the things that my grandmother taught me.
I would tell you every morning how much I loved you and tuck you in every single night so you would feel safe in our home. I would make sure you understood that life is lived forward and not back. I would make sure that you knew it’s okay to take risks, make mistakes, as long as you learn from them. I would make sure you knew that life is funny sometimes and that you shouldn’t take all things too seriously. I would teach you how to persevere in spite of darkness, how to become a flame for those in need of light, and how to find that flame inside yourself if you are ever alone.
I would make sure that you knew that life is not all daisies and sunshine so that you would be prepared for the stinging cold of the real world. I’d teach you how to live life passionately, to go after your dreams and not second guess them for a minute. I would explain to you how to deal with failure, and that pain is inevitable but not everlasting.
I would teach you how to stand up for yourself and to not let bullies penetrate your state of mind. I would teach you how to be the best you can be, and try my best to keep you from comparing yourself to other girls. I’d make sure that you got the chance to join the track team, learn to play an instrument, or take rock climbing lessons. I’d teach you how to do a cart-wheel in the front yard. I’d be the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus, and the Easter bunny. I would cherish every work of art you brought home, every mothers day present, and every hug. I would let you sleep in my bed if you were scared and gently take you to yours after you’ve fallen asleep. I would teach you the different theories of God and let you decide what you believe. I’d give you advice on friendship, love and loss. I would bite the baloney into a smiley face and hold it up and make funny faces at you. When you and your first love break up, I’ll bring you to a train passing by and we’ll scream at the top of our lungs. I would scold you if I thought you were making bad decisions and try my best to keep you on a clean path without drugs or alcohol. I would let you stay home and watch cartoons if you were sick. I’d teach you how to ride a bicycle, and try my darnedest to keep you off of a motorcycle and the guy that owns it. I would tell you stories of my own screw ups, mistakes, and bad choices when you are old enough. I would show you how to make a beard with the bubbles at bath time. I would teach you how to build a tough skin and a keep a sensitive heart.
I’ll call you my peanut from the age of 2 to the age of 65. I would teach you how to spin on a wheel in a pottery class. I would show off my horrible dance moves at your wedding and unintentionally embarrass you when you go on your first date. I’d be your best friend, your mentor, and your bank account. I would take an obnoxious amount of photos before your first dance and take you backpacking across Europe as your graduation present. I would teach you how to make the best grilled cheese sandwich and your aunt would teach you everything else about the culinary arts. I would braid your hair and chase you around the house so you will brush your teeth before bed.
I would never give up on you. I would never call you names. I would never drag you down. I would kiss your button nose as your wake up call and make your friends a pancake breakfast when they sleep over.
I love you, my peanut.
From Your Future Mother