My dear Ellie,
Today is your eighth birthday, and what an interesting day it is. I know I usually start my letters with some exclamations of wonderment that you are getting so old - and I'll get to that, I'm sure. But right now there are things going on in the world that have eclipsed every part of our everyday life, and I feel I can't go forward with my reflections on your past year without first addressing our present situation.
Right now, we are in the middle of "social distancing." There is a global pandemic, a novel coronavirus, making its way through the world. It is highly contagious and easily spread. For most people, it's like a flu, but for many, it can be very serious and hospitals are being overwhelmed by people who need care. Our society has opted for social distancing as a way to "flatten the curve," to slow down the spread of this illness in the hopes that our medical workers and hospitals will be able to keep up. That means that for the past two weeks, we have essentially been quarantined in our own home. Schools are canceled - for now, until April 15th, but we suspect it will be much longer. You and E.J. are doing "distance learning" online instead. Many people are working from home (Daddy already does, so that's not different for us!). The church is closed, and we watch the services on YouTube now (and that is how we'll be celebrating Easter this year). Stores are closed, many restaurants are closed, doctors are canceling any non-essential visits. The restaurants that are open are open only for take-out or delivery. The grocery stores are open, but filled with people wearing gloves and masks and scrounging for whatever they can find on the shelves - people panicked early and started hoarding food and necessities (in particular, toilet paper!) so now it's hard to find the groceries you need, and when you do, they are rationed to prevent further stockpiling. For the past two weeks, we have left our house for only two reasons: to pick up necessary groceries as much as we are able (after which we sanitize them outside of the house before bringing them in), and to walk in the evenings (people have been making rainbow chalk drawings on their sidewalks, so we go hunting rainbows!). Nobody knows when this will end, either, so we're looking towards summer and wondering how many more of our plans will be canceled and how long this will be our reality. It's a very strange, very surreal time. It's historic, and I can't help but wonder how you will remember this time as you grow up.
Needless to say, all this means you are not having the birthday you planned for. We did manage to squeeze in your biggest birthday request before we went into isolation: you asked to go to Kennedy Space Center for a few days, to include a day at the beach and a rocket launch. We managed to do that over spring break and it was a wonderful little mini family vacation (even though the launch was aborted mid-countdown!). Of course, we left on Sunday and as of Monday the Space Center closed indefinitely, so we really just barely made it and have been on lockdown since we got home. But, you described that little trip as the "best weekend ever" so I'm so glad we were able to make it happen for you! It's such a happy memory from right before everything went crazy.
But, we also had some great surprises planned for you for your actual birthday (Disney-related, but Disney World is also closed indefinitely), and you had hoped to have your first sleepover party with a few friends next weekend. You have really handled all this craziness remarkably well, but earlier this week it hit you that you would not be able to celebrate with any friends or family on your birthday, or even go anywhere fun, not even a playground. This hit you hard - you are my social butterfly! My hugger! You are KNOWN for your hugs. Just the other day your first grade teacher even commented on how she had been sick and hadn't been able to hug you for a week and it was torture. I know it's hard for you to not be around your friends and all the people at school and church that you love. In a journal entry this week, you said that you wish you could do homeschool with your friends, and when trapped at home for "like a month" you feel "sad and scwushed" (squished). I hate that you have to feel any kind of sadness or disappointment because of this whole ordeal!
So, on your birthday this year, we're doing our best to make it special for you. We're getting takeout from Metro Diner, one of your favorite restaurants ("best grilled cheese ever!"). You requested salmon for dinner - something new that you like! And of course, we'll have cake and presents. And, as a surprise, I've organized a drive-by parade for you in the afternoon. Many of your friends will be driving past our house at 2:00 pm to wish you a happy birthday from the safety of their cars. I was so touched at the response to my request for help with this - everybody is very excited to come. It warms my heart to see how much you are loved! Of course, I know that you are a very special girl, but it is always wonderful to see that other people appreciate that, too. You are VERY loved, my girl. Very loved and very special.
This year has been another impressive one for you. You're doing very well in second grade, but that is no surprise. You're a reading machine, and you read novels now. You've even started digging into the American Girl books, which were always a favorite of mine, so that makes me very happy! You love your teachers (and they, you!) and still love science and math. You're also really enjoying your gifted class this year, and I think they're doing a good job of challenging your thinking and teaching you new strategies for problem-solving. You seem to enjoy having E.J. at school with you this year, too, and you walk him to class every morning.
You're still enjoying ballet, and have moved into the Upper School which is a bit more serious. Right now, during social-distancing, your instructor records your lessons and posts them on YouTube for you to do at home, and your first Upper School recital has been postponed until (hopefully) June, which is a bummer. But I enjoyed watching you do your lesson at home this week! You are very graceful, and I was very impressed.
You also joined the Girl Scouts this year and you really enjoy that. I got talked into being a co-leader for your troop, which I'm not sure is my forte, but I love that we have that special thing to do together. We have a good troop of girls, most of whom go to church and/or school with you. We wrapped up our first Girl Scout cookie season just before this quarantine started, and you KILLED IT. You sold over 500 boxes of cookies, which was the most in your troop by a lot (the girl in second place trailed you by about 200 boxes!). You worked really hard and I was just so impressed by you. You walked around town with your wagon full of cookies, worked a booth, and went table-to-table at church Wednesday night dinner to sell cookies. You worked so hard to earn money to pay for a campout at the Jacksonville Zoo in the tiger exhibit, but sadly, that will likely be canceled because of coronavirus. I hate that you won't get the reward you worked so hard for, but knowing you, you'll take it in stride. Which is fine, of course - I'll be plenty disappointed on your behalf.
This year we took a big road trip, as we do every year, but this one included a stop in New York City and Ellie, what a delight it was to be back there with you! We showed you where we lived, took you to all our favorite cupcake places, and even took you out to Hoboken to show you the riverfront where I walked with you endlesslessly when you were a grumpy little infant who just wanted the bumpy bricks to lull her to sleep. You loved the city, and you and I shared a really special night together - while the boys went to a Mets game, you and I went out to dinner (at Junior's, where you tried your first cheesecake!) and then saw Wicked on Broadway. You loved it and I can't even describe to you how much I loved watching you love it. I love it all, too, so much, and to share that with you was something so precious to me. It was a night I will never forget. Thank you for sharing it with me, and I know it won't be our last night out together in New York. I can hardly wait to take you back!
In other exciting news, you've been facing fears left and right this year! For instance, this summer at Papa's house, you learned how to swim underwater! We had hoped it would happen the summer prior but you were NOT having it. This summer, though, it clicked, and now you LOVE the water. During your birthday celebration at the Space Center, you tried a boogey board on our beach day and loved that, too! Also, you got your ears pierced this year! You decided you really wanted it and you did it, and you were so proud of yourself (and I was proud of you, too!). You also faced your fears and rode Space Mountain for the first time, and now claim it is your favorite ride. Also, after taking a little hiatus from monkey bars, you are back at it and rocking it. And, just since we've been quarantined, you've started learning how to roller-skate and today you gave your bike a try without training wheels for the first time. I think the coming year will be a big one for you, at this rate!
What else can I say about eight-year-old Ellie? Your favorite movies right now are Frozen II and the live-action Aladdin movie. You love Xavier Riddle and the Secret Museum on PBS, The Who Was Show and Ms. Julie's Greenroom. You still love to dance, and the Frozen II soundtrack has been a staple around here for the past few months. You also still love crafty things, and this year you got into making little rubber band bracelets. They were all the rage at school, so we got you a kit for Valentine's Day and you've been a bracelet-making machine. Speaking of Valentine's Day, you still have a little crush on a boy, and are still willing to talk to me about it, so I love that (I pray you always feel comfortable talking to me about people who are important to you!). On Valentine's Day you even went up to him and told him that you thought he was handsome and smart and funny, and wow! Did I ever admire you for that! I hope you are always so bold and outspoken with your feelings. What an admirable quality!
You still love bunnies, and you wish we could have a pet. You had a relapse of sadness over Achilles recently, which led to the declaration of Achilles Day, complete with a dog movie (Lady and the Tramp), pizza dinner (Achilles loved pizza), and a decorated picture frame in his memory. Your favorite food is still ziti and meatballs, though you've gotten so much better about trying new things (hence, the salmon for dinner!). You have backed off of the astronaut talk a little, now leaning more towards being a doctor (maybe a pediatrician). As I mentioned, you're a hugger. You often come up to us out of the blue and say "huggy?" when you want a hug, and we are happy to oblige. You often also give "sneak attack" hugs - you'll run up to someone and wrap your arms around them before they even realize you're there. It's very dear!
You and E.J. (mostly) play well together, though you do have your squabbles. You are both really into Legos right now, and you had been saving your money for a very realistic babydoll for a long time, until I gave you one that I had as a child and that seems to have satisfied you. You dress her and carry her around and push her in an old stroller when we go on walks. Your freckles are getting darker since our time at the beach and they're just the cutest. You wanted to grow your hair long this year. You're done losing teeth for a while. You cried when it was announced that our pastor was leaving the church, but have also accepted our new one readily and with hugs and homemade gifts. At family reunions, you pay special attention to Gramps and he adores you. You love God, and you read your Bible or devotionals every night before bed. You just completed your first needlepoint, and are giving it to Aunt Heather as a birthday gift. You love technology, and are thrilled that you get to do your school lessons on our new iPad (and you really work it well!). You ask a lot of questions, love to explain things, and are diligent with your schoolwork (especially now as you do it at home!). When you get in trouble for something (a rarity), you take it hard, often lamenting that you are "not the best girl in the world." Go easy on yourself, kiddo! Because, 1) you are, and 2) it doesn't matter - we love you all the much no matter what.
Ellie, you're a special kiddo, and you deserve the best in every way. All I want is to make everything as perfect for you as possible. So I'm having a little trouble with this letter, both with reflecting on where we've been in your eight years (the news has occupied my thoughts for weeks, hardly allowing time for memories and reflection), as well as thinking ahead to what's coming next. Because really, we don't know what's coming next. Not economically, not socially - there's so many big, significant question marks on the horizon. This virus has everyone rattled, and I fear it's really just getting started. I don't know how long we'll be living life like this, and even more so, I don't know what the world will look like when we're done. Every aspect of life feels very uncertain now, and we're just taking it day by day and praying for the best.
I know that all I can do right now is try to remain steady for you, to hold my fears in tight to not worry you needlessly, to protect you as best I can and try to make this whole experience a positive memory for you. I hope that when we come out of this you will only remember all the time we spent together, your birthday parade, our All Day Movie Day, doing art together, drawing rainbows on our sidewalk, reading books outside in the shade, worshipping together while cuddled up on the couch, playing hopscotch at lunchtime, sleeping in and making s'mores at night. I hope I'm able to make this a happy time for you, to turn something stressful into something special that you will remember fondly. I'm doing my best and I hope we all can maintain our patience with each other in pursuit of that goal.
I love you, Ellie. No matter what uncertainty is happening outside the door of our home, that is one constant that you can always count on. I love you and I always will, no matter what.
I just love you so much, bug.
All my love,
Mama
* * * * *
My dear Ellie,
Here we go again - another letter. But, also, another whole year older for you, and this time you're eight! Birthdays are a big deal for kids, and your Mama and I are trying to make it as special as we can. But we are in fairly uncharted territory as a planet, and that is forcing us to be a little creative. I hope it's obvious what I'm talking about when you read this because it actually ended and was just a crazy, once-in-several-generations event. But it has only been two weeks and I don't know. I read something interesting this week about the futility of using the present to plan for the future, and, boy, does that feel true. Three weeks ago, it would have been laughable to suggest the ENTIRE COUNTRY would be confined to their homes and that professional sports would be shut down indefinitely. And, yet, here we are. There are probably important lessons about slowing down to appreciate our health and the freedoms we simply take for granted, or the fact that for all our technological advances, we are still no match for nature. I'm just not sure yet.
But, I digress. This letter isn't about the world, but about one of my absolute favorite people in it - you. One of the things I've wondered about is whether to actually write to you now or keep thinking about the you I don't know know yet. It's tricky this year because you're old enough to read fluently. You do it all the time, especially nonfiction, Magic Treehouse and American Girl chapter books. When we read together at night, you always get to play a character or two, except now you can follow along on your own (I don't have to whisper your lines to you anymore) and you're getting pretty good at using inflection and doing different voices when you have more than one part. I can't tell you how much I love reading with you and your brother just about every night. You are super-cuddly, which is not always the most physically comfortable thing for me, but I will never say anything about it. Whoops. I seem to be digressing again, but I think it counts because I should have found a place to mention all this anyway. What I am trying to say is that I could probably write to you now, not just because you can actually read it, but because you are getting old enough to really start to consider the wider world and your place in it. But as I think about it, I'm not going to. I think my job is to be the best dad I can be every day, reflect and try to do better. These letters are more for posterity so we can look back and see what we got right. Or, maybe they are to help me remember the things that feel unforgettable but get forgotten because you never know what's next. Or, maybe, hopefully, you'll be interested or curious. These are a lot of work!
Seeing as I'm committed to writing to the you of someday, and I don't know what you'll be like, I am a little nervous. What will you want or need to hear? Will you just roll your eyes if it feels too over-the-top or sappy? Part of my wondering is that now that you are eight, I know you are that much closer to big feelings. It seems like I have encountered a lot of parents of middle and high school girls this year who sound like they are dealing with quite a challenge. I hope we are able to navigate those years okay. So far, so good for us, but you never know. As I hope is still true, or that you at least know from past letters, you and I are actually better than good. Whenever I describe my kids to people, I always try to share some details like how much I love coaching EJ and how much he loves baseball and that he's really good. But for you, I always start by literally saying "my daughter Ellie is perfect." Obviously no one is actually perfect, but it's kinda funny because when you get down on yourself, you sometimes say it's because you feel like you aren't the best girl in the world. I love that you have high standards, but whoa! Really, though, no one needs you to be the best girl in the world, even if you just might be. I hope you will always do your best, of course, but what I really mean is that perfect is the word that comes to mind when I think about how much I love being your dad. You're so loving, smart, curious, outgoing, thoughtful and polite, and pretty much, more than any father could ask for in a kid.
I feel like I need to also mention one of the things we haven't really figured out: how to help you with your anxiety. You've always been on the strong-willed side, but this year you seemed to ramp up the ways your brain can get you stuck. And to be totally honest, I really don't' know the best way to help. No matter how calmly I have tried, I have not been able to ease you into changing your mind about doing something on the spot. When we can't physically force you to do it (like new rides) our only option is for you to decide on your own that you're going to do it. For example, you got your ears pierced this year! But then six weeks later had an hours-long ordeal when we tried to change them. It has now been six months and you haven't touched anything from your growing earring collection. Running has also been a bit of an adventure. After following up your 11:00 minute mile with an 18-minute debacle at Disney, I ran with you and we finished in 10:23! Then, in December, I tried to run with you and EJ and told you that you could go ahead if you wanted to. Well, EJ flew off the start line and you got trapped behind other people. You didn't panic, caught up to us and flew by to finish in 9 minutes flat! Then, when we trained in the Spring for your first 5k, you had all kinds of problems in our first 2-mile training run - you stopped to complain about a sore back, legs and then nearly hyperventilated out of nowhere down the stretch. I saw up close what must have happened at Disney and then happened again at a Girl Scout race in February where you stopped to walk 50 yards into the race because your legs hurt. You get yourself nervous and then it manifests in some way and then that's it. But when it doesn't, you have a real skill. It's so frustrating to not know how to help, but I promise to keep reading about it and trying.
I'm sorry I used so many words to talk about running. The anxiety is such a big thing, but it is still mostly infrequent and by no means defines you for this year. You are, or at least you were until the world shut down, having another great year in school, still love math and science, and you have thrived in gifted class. We went on more dates and continue to dance to "A Whole New World" - fueled by a new Aladdin movie this year that was everything until Frozen II came out. You saw your first Broadway show and we did some more golfing and played baseball and football and all kinds of other games in the yard. You are interested in soccer, but have too many extracurriculars already, and you really LOVE swimming.
My dear Ellie, I know I have talked about the unfairness of writing a letter to you on one day that is meant to reflect on your progress over a whole year. The reality is that it has never really worked out to build it throughout the year. It is really a snapshot of you at the moment you move from one year to the next. And the moment we are in now is just so different than any one that anyone can remember, and that has to be coloring what has ended up here. So far, though, you don't seem to grasp the enormity of the situation, and you shouldn't, but it is definitely impacting you. I'm sure Mama will mention "sad and squished" and your birthday, itself, will just be us. I hope we get back to normal soon and that you have many more chances to sleep over with your friends and go out and be celebrated properly. For now, we will do the best we can and be grateful that we have a decent group of people to spend the quarantine, and life, with.
I love you so, so much,
Daddy