Seven. It's coming.

I'm all over the map this morning.

Probably because my daughter woke up before I did. Before my husband did.

And last night when I told him I was going to wake her up earlier this AM to help her get to bed earlier I did not mean QUITE THIS EARLY.

I actually meant like right now early. (He's been gone over an hour. She was up before us both, playing in our room and traumatizing one of the dogs as she played with one of the cats. Oy.)

I've put a laundry in. Need to unload the dishwasher. And refill it again. Do these things EVER find themselves empty? No? No. I didn't think so.

So my daughter finished Kindergarten a few weeks ago. I'm not sure why I write it with a capital K. I just do. It's amazing that one year of school is down. It's amazing that her next birthday (granted, it's not until February, but still ...) she will turn seven.

Seven!

I got my ears pierced when I was seven. I've always said that *maybe* that would be a good time for her to get hers done, too.

But then when seven shows up - peeking through the windows and knocking down doors? - WHAT?

Where did my baby go?

I'm not truly feeling crazy with emotion about the end of K. Maybe because they didn't have a graduation or a stepping up ceremony or anything like that?

They did have a small K field day. Which is not to be confused with their full school field day(s). We (the husband and I) went to that for a few hours. The K-specific one. It was interesting. Confusing. And fun for the kids.

I'm not sure why I'm stuck in K mode right now. My mentality should have wrapped that up already, no? I've actually recapped it twice. I've stocked up on wine for the summer. And I've recapped with Kindergarten survival stories. And we're good. It's all good.

And the summer lays straight ahead. We're already off to a great start. Several boat rides under our belts, AND we got her her first belt! It's pretty and sparkly and she loves it. Me? I loathe belts. But she's excited, so I am, too. I went up a size. Or a something. So she would have it for a while. Why is it that moms hope they'll have things for years and yet we know they're going to grow bored or frustrated or not in the mood for it in the coming years anyway and we just say, it's okay, we want it to last? I'm not the only one who says/thinks stuff like that, right?

I feel like I'm not done with this post. I have so much more to say today, and yet my mind is either two steps behind me, or maybe ahead? I'm already writing something else. Already looking for words. Beauty. Emotions. Thoughts. Dreams.

My heart carries so much. Carries hers deep within itself.

I'm trying really hard to be a great mom this summer. I'm lacking in so many things. I'm not driving yet and the guilt is heavy on my soul. It's only the second week. There is so much more time ahead. So many plans. So much to do. To see. To be.

And I feel stuck already. Trying to hold onto the summer of six.

Because seven.

Seven.

It's coming.

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