Your front-row seat to my nervous breakdown

Dear Jayna,

Here is a visual representation of the past year of your life:

Except with more “AAAGHHHHH!!!” and less “WEEEEEEE!!!”

Just days after your fifth birthday, we sold our house in Massachusetts and bought one in Pennsylvania. Just days after that, your grandfather died suddenly and unexpectedly, and when I think about the nightmarish experience of telling you and your brother, and of you tearfully responding with, “But I wanted to go swimming with Popop!,” I could crumble. You loved him, and he loved you, and I’m so sorry he’s gone. And now I’m going to change the subject before I start crying.

Rainbows! You love rainbows! You love them so much, you wear them! See?

Ah, now I feel better.

You love picking out your own clothes, and generally select the loudest, craziest, most non-matching-est ensembles you can find. I love it.

You change outfits several times per day, and leave all of your previously worn clothing strewn about the floor of your bedroom. I do not love it. Please stop.

Completing your “look” for a good part of the past year was a pair of galactically bedazzled sneakers covered in sequins and multicolored LEDs that flashed rapidly with each step you took. (Sadly, you have outgrown those.)

If the opportunity for a little facepainting should happen to present itself, then painted your face shall be:

Your colorfulness also extends to your artistic endeavors, which largely comprise an endless stream of rainbows, flowers, hearts and stars that you make for me to take to my office:

You created most, if not all, of the work shown above in the arts-and-crafts area that Mommy set up in our basement for you and your brother (a messy nightmare), and augmented it with a steady flow of masterpieces that you brought home from school … and, hey! Speaking of school!

(No, I don’t think that segue seemed at all forced and contrived, do you?)

After spending two consecutive school years attending a small, quaint preschool just two days per week, we decided to help ease your transition to your new home by sticking you in a larger preschool five days per week. This wasn’t our preference, but the inconsiderate parents in the area where we now live apparently felt they had a right to fill all of the three- and four-day preschool programs with their own wretched offspring instead of anticipating our family’s move to Pennsylvania and saving room for you.

Of course, the good thing about being forced to place you in school five days per week was that it gave us the opportunity to see just how much life-changing stress you could withstand … because, clearly, leaving the only home you’d ever known, moving into a strange home 350 miles away, losing your grandfather in the midst of all that chaos, and dealing with two parents whose sanity was stretched paper-thin wasn’t enough of a gauntlet for a 5-year-old to pass through.

Suddenly, I don’t feel compelled to make as big of a deal about the temper tantrums you’re prone to throwing. (But please stop throwing them.)

Amazingly, with the exception of pretty much telling the preschool during the first half of the year that they could stick their “Your parents will drop you off at the curb and we will take you from there” policy where the sun don’t shine, you adjusted to your new school incredibly well … so much so that I now feel there’s at least a small chance we didn’t irreparably damage your young and fragile psyche with the mayhem of the past year.

In addition to finding you a new preschool, it also was imperative that we find you a new gymnastics school … because, much like baseball is your brother’s Thing, gymnastics is so totally your Thing.

This is the part where you flip backwards while suspended in midair, twirling around and around and around like a yo-yo. For some reason, you enjoy this, and do it with a wild abandon that outmatches that of your peers. It would seem you take after your dizziness-inducing-carnival-ride-loving mother.

Here you are hanging from a zip-line-mounted trapeze, which you love to ride across the entire length of the gym before letting go and falling into the foam-filled pit. I've been secretly hoping that they'll ask the parents to give it a try.

Basically, you continue to be fearless and incredibly adept at moving your little body. In fact, when it comes to gymnastics, the only thing you seem to be afraid of is performing in front of an audience. (We’re going to have to work on that, because Daddy is really banking on that gymnastics scholarship, sweetie, mkay? No pressure.)

You and your brother fight. Way too much. Sometimes, he is very mean to you, and sometimes, you go out of your way to get under his skin. Mommy and I are struggling to figure out how to make your conflicts less frequent. Currently, we’re considering poisonous blow-darts.

Fortunately, there are still plenty of times when the two of you play together nicely, and are kind to each other. In fact, I have photographic evidence of you both peacefully coexisting on the morning of your birthday:

Apparently, you were a tad excited about the gift we got you.
(Your brother is only smiling because he already has one ... otherwise, this would be a picture of his head exploding.)

For your party this year, you opted for a “Little Mermaid”-themed shindig … which was perfect, since M-M’s pool has now become our de facto birthday spot.

Putting the "party" in "pool party," y'all.

Rather than settle for an off-the-rack “Little Mermaid” cake, however, you had bigger plans in mind: You wanted to dress like Ariel, have Mommy photograph you, and then get a cake with the pictures printed on top.

Not only did you want the cake to bear your likeness; you also wanted your brother to pose as Prince Eric. Thankfully, much to your (and our) delight, he agreed.

See how wonderful life can be when you're kind to each other? More of that, please.

Voila!

Last weekend, you and I had a long-planned Daddy & Daughter Day, during which I took you to see the “Winnie the Pooh” movie. (You had been eager to see it because I often read to you at bedtime a “Winnie the Pooh” book that I loaded onto my iPhone for just that purpose.) We ate popcorn (you love popcorn; unfortunately, you also love the movie theater’s “butter topping” — not to be confused with, you know, actual butter), and once we had finished devouring that, you sat in my lap and snuggled with me for most of the flick, which you enjoyed immensely.

Afterward, we grabbed lunch at a diner (you had a grilled cheese … or, as I like to call it, “The Usual”) and then returned home, where we played “Super Mario Brothers,” per your request. At one point, you announced that it was the Funnest Day of Your Life. Thank you for setting the bar so low, and for being so much fun to hang out with.

Someday, Jayna, a boy will want to take you on a date, and instead of snuggling up on the couch with me, you will want to go with him. Between now and then, I am going to relish every minute I get to spend with you, my beautiful, funny, smart, amazing daughter.

I love you, Princess.

Love,

Daddy

Previous letters:

• Jayna: 5 years
• Jayna: 4 years
• Jayna: 3 years, 8 months
• Jayna: 3 years
• Jayna: 2 years
• Jayna: 1 year 3 months
• Jayna: 1 year
• Jayna: 11 months
• Jayna: 10 months
• Jayna: 9 months
• Jayna: 8 months