Dear Cora:

I usually start these yearly letters off by saying something like, “I can’t believe it’s time again – the year flew fast!” And while this year might have been speedy, I can DEFINITELY believe it’s time for a birthday letter.

You, my dear, are straining at the leash to turn five. I have seen such growth in you – and I’m not talking physical, though if you don’t slow down you’ll be swimming nekked by July because you’ll outgrow all the swimsuits I JUST BOUGHT YOU – that I can’t help but be aware of how much you’re growing up. Any traces of babyhood have been firmly erased, and you are drawing in your new self with bold strokes, filling up the pages and eschewing any need for an eraser.

Maddie and Cora are almost exactly two years apart. Maddie’s development often seems to catch me by surprise – hey, look at that, she’s rolling over! I can’t believe she recognizes her alphabet! Wow, is she putting her face in the water and blowing bubbles already? That sort of thing. Cora is just the opposite: I’m inclined to think such unfair thoughts as – hey, why isn’t she brushing her teeth as well as Maddie does? When is her attention span going to get better?

It’s not that I’m constantly comparing Cora to Maddie, in a sort of “Well, Maddie rolled over at four months and Cora didn’t do it until five months. Slacker.” way. But with your first child, whatever stage you are in feels like it will go on forever: you will ALWAYS be breastfeeding/pureeing solid foods/changing diapers/potty training/sleep training/whatever. And then suddenly you’re in a different stage.

We've officially hit insanity time in our neighborhood, as school winds down and all the obligatory parties and celebrations come with it.

This week alone, we've got Cora's end-of-year party (preschool ends three weeks earlier than public school) today, which unfortunately conflicts with Maddie's class kickball tournament, so I'm hitting Cora's party while Mom cheers Maddie on. As well this morning Cora is celebrating her upcoming birthday in her school - since it's after school is out - so this morning will find me bringing a dozen and a half mini-cupcakes to her class and reading one of her favorite books aloud while the four-year-olds get sugared up for the day.

Then tomorrow is Cora's preschool graduation, and yes, I rolled my eyes too. Before they started weeping when I watched Maddie "graduate" two years ago. So tomorrow's Cora's last day of school - don't get me started on my baby growing up - and I'll pull Maddie out for the graduation ceremony and luncheon, then take her back for the remainder of the day.

The Friday is Cora's birthday, so you can imagine how that will go: lots of running and crafting and bouncing and probably swimming.

And sugar.

And we put a huge button on the end of this week with Cora's blowout birthday party on Saturday - she and several of her friends will be putting on a mini version of the Nutcracker at my theatre school on the big stage. To call this a huge undertaking is an understatement. But you only turn five once.

Tired? A little. But it keeps me from thinking about all the milestones we're hitting this week.

And then, of course, there's next week: Maddie's class party, Maddie's field day at school, Cora's summer vacation starts, ballet recital . . .

I'll think about all that later.

Sunday was, of course, Mothers’ Day, and I had a lovely time with my girls, my mother, and my mother-in-law. We ate out both lunch and dinner – decadent, I know – and I took a good long nap in the middle of the day – equally decadent.

When Brian asked me last week what I wanted to do for Mothers’ Day, it reminded me of every day over the past several years he’s asked me that question. And how my answer has evolved over time.