Dear N,
I am entirely too young to have a child who is 13-years-old.
I think I said this when you were ten, which was another milestone birthday---your entry into double digits.
I expect I will say it every year from here on out.
Mamaw says it about Daddy, and he is 48.
I don't often tell you how proud I am of you, but I am, especially as you are making your way through the muck and sludge of 7th grade with its hormones and social dynamics and meh.
You do not aspire to be anyone but you.
(Ok, maybe Emma Watson.)
You wear the glasses without glass in the frames you don't need proudly and happily.
You dislike the silly giggliness of other girls who are fawning over boys (and I am so, so glad especially since I was one of those girls who fawned over boys.)
You understand that you are sometimes irrational and that it doesn't make sense, and it bothers you because you truly understand that you're being a little bonkers for no apparent reason.
I think you do your best to be honest and kind, which can be an act of social rebellion in the life of a middle schooler.
Do I wish you'd throw your cheese wrappers away a little more quickly?
Well sure.
Do I wish you'd read a little more and dork around on your phone a little less?
Yes.
But do I wish I had anyone other than you as my daughter?
Absolutely not.
You are my N.
You will always be my baby girl.
I am so glad that you trust me enough to tell me things that I know with certainty I didn't tell my own mother when I was your age.
I'm so glad you trust yourself enough to be who you are and cry to me and Daddy when carrying that weight feels hard.
There are many ways in which my life has been blessed, none of which I deserve. Being your mother and helping you navigate your life as honestly and openly as I can is one of my life's great privileges.
Now go throw your cheese wrappers away and get off your phone.
I love you to the newly discovered 7 planets that are 40 light years away and may potentially support life and all the way back,
Momma
I am entirely too young to have a child who is 13-years-old.
I think I said this when you were ten, which was another milestone birthday---your entry into double digits.
I expect I will say it every year from here on out.
Mamaw says it about Daddy, and he is 48.
I don't often tell you how proud I am of you, but I am, especially as you are making your way through the muck and sludge of 7th grade with its hormones and social dynamics and meh.
You do not aspire to be anyone but you.
(Ok, maybe Emma Watson.)
You wear the glasses without glass in the frames you don't need proudly and happily.
You dislike the silly giggliness of other girls who are fawning over boys (and I am so, so glad especially since I was one of those girls who fawned over boys.)
You understand that you are sometimes irrational and that it doesn't make sense, and it bothers you because you truly understand that you're being a little bonkers for no apparent reason.
I think you do your best to be honest and kind, which can be an act of social rebellion in the life of a middle schooler.
Do I wish you'd throw your cheese wrappers away a little more quickly?
Well sure.
Do I wish you'd read a little more and dork around on your phone a little less?
Yes.
But do I wish I had anyone other than you as my daughter?
Absolutely not.
You are my N.
You will always be my baby girl.
I am so glad that you trust me enough to tell me things that I know with certainty I didn't tell my own mother when I was your age.
I'm so glad you trust yourself enough to be who you are and cry to me and Daddy when carrying that weight feels hard.
There are many ways in which my life has been blessed, none of which I deserve. Being your mother and helping you navigate your life as honestly and openly as I can is one of my life's great privileges.
Now go throw your cheese wrappers away and get off your phone.
I love you to the newly discovered 7 planets that are 40 light years away and may potentially support life and all the way back,
Momma
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