Dear N,
Every time I look at you I can't get over it. You are turning 9 years old. I imagine I will continue this little song-and-dance for the rest of my life....seeing you turn 19 and 29 and on and on, in shock and awe that my first baby is, gasp, growing up and then grown.
I really think you're a neat kid, but I always have. You are so bright and personable. You seem to have Daddy's dry sense of humor. You say things sometimes in such an understated way that it is even funnier than you intended just because of your delivery.
Another of your father's traits you share is your expectation to be awesome at something from the moment you begin to learn it which leads to some tears and frustration. You are your mother's child, though, which means you share some of my not-so-great traits, like being a bit of a worrywart and dramatist. Changing your earrings is something of a torture for both of us because of your anxious hyperventilating and my lack of compassion (even though I did the same things to my own mother when it came to earring care). Still, you seem to me to be far more balanced than I was at the same age. You seem to be ok with your own skin, at least for now.
I so enjoy learning piano with you and introducing you to books. You have taken a shine to Otherwise Known as Sheila the Great, which is one of the books I read and re-read as a girl. (It weirds me out a bit to think that I can remember myself at your age.) It makes me happy when you ask me to snuggle in bed with you and rub your back after the lights go out. It makes me think back to the days when I'd rock you to sleep every night.
It is such a great privilege for me to be your mom, to be able to see you change and find who you are and who you want to be. As the years pass, I fear your entry into the world of the teenager. I have a difficult time managing my own moods, so the thought of your moods growing erratic unnerves me.
I hope, though, that the foundation of our relationship is strong enough to weather life's challenges with aplomb. (And that we can both remember to say I'm sorry and forgive.)
Happy 9th Birthday, my love. I can't wait for you to see your big surprise (and I can't wait to share in it with you)!
Momma
Every time I look at you I can't get over it. You are turning 9 years old. I imagine I will continue this little song-and-dance for the rest of my life....seeing you turn 19 and 29 and on and on, in shock and awe that my first baby is, gasp, growing up and then grown.
I have to include one sweet baby picture...
Another of your father's traits you share is your expectation to be awesome at something from the moment you begin to learn it which leads to some tears and frustration. You are your mother's child, though, which means you share some of my not-so-great traits, like being a bit of a worrywart and dramatist. Changing your earrings is something of a torture for both of us because of your anxious hyperventilating and my lack of compassion (even though I did the same things to my own mother when it came to earring care). Still, you seem to me to be far more balanced than I was at the same age. You seem to be ok with your own skin, at least for now.
I so enjoy learning piano with you and introducing you to books. You have taken a shine to Otherwise Known as Sheila the Great, which is one of the books I read and re-read as a girl. (It weirds me out a bit to think that I can remember myself at your age.) It makes me happy when you ask me to snuggle in bed with you and rub your back after the lights go out. It makes me think back to the days when I'd rock you to sleep every night.
It is such a great privilege for me to be your mom, to be able to see you change and find who you are and who you want to be. As the years pass, I fear your entry into the world of the teenager. I have a difficult time managing my own moods, so the thought of your moods growing erratic unnerves me.
I hope, though, that the foundation of our relationship is strong enough to weather life's challenges with aplomb. (And that we can both remember to say I'm sorry and forgive.)
Happy 9th Birthday, my love. I can't wait for you to see your big surprise (and I can't wait to share in it with you)!
Momma
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