TEN

My oldest child turned ten this week. I can barely say it without a pause and a faraway look.  TEN!!!?  It sends me into a sentimental tizzy where I remember her skinny, little baby self, the kid we took all over San Francisco and beyond (Seriously. She went to cuba at 2 months old), the baby who barely cried.  How have 10 years passed and it feels like a breath?

Now, she is a FORCE on the soccer field (she used to be so scared and frail out there), she does her own laundry (I mean, I make her, but she does it pretty happily), she’s an INSATIABLE reader, and she has a pretty decent scrambled egg technique!

I think beside the fact that I marvel at what she is capable of, I find myself just liking her. As a person. I admire who she is, her gifts, her struggles, her interests and instincts.  I’m really glad I get to know her.

On the eve of her birthday I was overwhelmed with wanting to tell her how much I enjoy having her as a daughter, so I wrote her a long, sappy, mom, letter.  It was so energizing to just focus on all the good stuff I see in her (as a mother, I correct a lot). In the letter,  I told her the ways I’ve seen her grow, the things I admire in her, and what my prayers are for her.  She really seemed to like it, too:  all smiles and big hugs when she read it.  I’ve said this here before and I’ll say it again: there may be a time when she won’t like me doing this  kind of thing, so I’m reveling in it now.

As a post script, the birthday food was a mixed bag. She got her favorite dinner: shepherd’s pie (with her initials in mashed potatoes, based very loosely on this recipe).  The next day we had a small, soccer party in the yard where we had cake.  The cake was a complete fiasco: two broken hand mixers in the process, a MESS of a frosting job, and then it didn’t look anything like a soccer ball!   What can you do?  Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.

About these ads