Five Years

My first girl. My sweet Blueberry. You were once so tiny, and now you are a long-legged, brilliant child. How sweet it is to think that you turned five years old last week. It would be easy to say it is bittersweet, thinking of how quickly the time has passed, but there is no bitterness to tinge the sweetness of the girl you are becoming. I relished every delightful and challenging phase with you, dear one. From the tiny hands to the to chubby hands to the nimble-fingered hands. You are five now. A whole hand.

First Birthday

I remember you were thinking about taking your first steps around this time. And you were sweet, lively, never tired, happy. You woke with a smile on sunshiny mornings, snuggled right next to me, and brought me more and more stories to read at night so you could delay sleep. You tenacious baby.

Second Birthday

I remember you beginning to explore your independence. By the end of the year, you weaned, you stopped wearing diapers, you became more excited by art and books. I remember everything, because I was there. I saw you.

Third Birthday

When you were three, you rode your first trike, became a princess, a ballerina, a mermaid, a fairy. Your imagination took off even further and you immersed yourself in stories, weaving fantasy into our everyday lives. I played dress up with you almost every day.

Fourth Birthday

Ah, my sweet fairy. You are creative, outgoing, eager to please. This year you began to do some lessons at home and are a bright and curious student. You are both energetic and thoughtful, spontaneous and intuitive. You began to have real nightmares this year, too, as you start to realize there are dark things in this beautiful world. I remember because I held you, walked the floor with you, read Peter Rabbit to you in the middle of the night and told you it was ok. Because it was. It was good.

Fifth Birthday

You, my Bluest Blueberry girl, are the sweetest, smartest, brightest five year old I know. You are a fantastic big sister, a big help to your mama, and keep us all full of life. You are learning to write letters, and love to help me cook. You are a pirate, a fairy, a butterfly, a mother. Every day is new and exciting. You have had your first big girl haircut, you have lost your first tooth, you have watched your little sister take part of your place with generosity and joy, realized that your parents are a bit human after all, you have started to find your voice. You are funny, witty, creative, silly, and empathetic. You are both a challenge and a delight. Some people have called you "a handful," but I know better. You are a whole hand.

Good Queen Buttercup

"Her angels face
As the great eye of heaven, shyned bright,
And made a sunshine in the shady place."

Edmund Spenser from "The Faerie Queene" Book i, canto iii, st. 4

(Queen Buttercup)

I know. You all are hoping this post is going to be riddled with references to The Princess Bride. As much as I adore the film (and book), I'm thinking today about a different queen. It may be really weird to compare one's children to historical figures, but I've noticed lately how regal and calm my baby daughter has become. Yes. She reminds me of Queen Elizabeth, the first Queen Elizabeth of England. Ok, not that I knew her personally or anything, much as I wish I did, but if you do even two minutes of research, you start to get a picture. "Moderate," "temperate," "tolerant," "loyal," "serene," "of good council." I know. It might be a stretch, but bear with me. I mean, look at this face.

(Doesn't she look judicious and wise of rule?)

One of the best quotes about Elizabeth I as a princess comes from her first "Lady Mistress," Lady Bryant: "as toward a child and as gentle of conditions as ever I knew any in my life." It may seem rather obvious to say that a child is "toward a child," but this line struck me as incredibly apt. There are some children who aren't child-like. My child, sweet Buttercup, is so innocently child-like. She has none of the mischievousness of her older sister. There's no cheeky in her grin. Buttercup is also very "gentle of conditions." Even as a baby, I sense how she holds herself gently in this world. She is strong, curious, and bright, but soft, tender. An affable, sweet, and tractable child. There is something to be said for a queen-like child. And the "Virgin Queen" at that.

I feel this strange connection to Queen E, I'll admit. I played her once on "stage." I hold the word loosely because it was the stage in the loft of our barn when I was about 13 years old. In terms of obscure references I'll post on this blog, this might be it. We (my sisters and I) had just watched The Sea Hawk (1940) and were so roused by it, that I wrote a theatrical version of the movie for us to perform. (a, we had no television, b, we were homeschooled.) I mean, this is a classic. Errol Flynn as "Captain Thorpe," a character loosely based on Sir Francis Drake, swashbuckling his way through glorious the black and white court of the queen and the jungles of Panama made us (ok, mostly me) quite swoony. However, his feeble love interest was not the most coveted role in our homeschoolers performance. Queen Elizabeth, played by the consummately talented but oh-so-unattractive Flora Robson, captured out hearts with her strength, wit, and grace.

(Not pretty, but pretty amazing.)

I got to be the Queen. I was the oldest and had written the play. 'Nuff said. I got to wear the huge paper collar and give the rousing speech about going to war with Spain when the Armada attacked (offstage, left). I got to inhabit this place of such power for a short time. I could actually imagine calling out the order to go to war or to stay a beheading. It interests me still that we girls all gravitated to this character. The queen, both in the movie and all the books I've read about her, was great at handling things. Queenship was thrust at Elizabeth at a tender age and she rose to the occasion with incredible grace. She never married. She was beloved of her people. She reigned for 60 years and that time was considered a golden age. She herself was a poet of some talent. She shows her education off in her writing. In many ways she was a "Renaissance Man," but importantly a woman light years ahead of her time. In her speech to the troops at Tilbury, she says, "I know I have the body but of a weak and feeble woman; but I have the heart and stomach of a king." Nothing ordinary about her.

I know that all seems divergent from where I started in this post. I am a bit of a history nerd but even if I were not, I could see the connection between this extraordinary woman who lived many hundreds of years ago across the sea and my baby girl. It's amazing to think of the potential wrapped up in this gorgeously chubby twenty pounds of sweet baby flesh. There is power despite her current state of helplessness, there is wisdom despite her inability to speak. Perhaps there is a bit of Good Queen Bess in all baby girls.

I swear there is just something there. Down to the strawberry blond hair that is starting to crown her little head. She certainly already has some very loyal subjects.