The third child turned 16 and has to wait weeks and weeks for a bday letter

 Dear M,

You should be used to this by now, right?

As the third child, you got the clothing hand-me-downs from not just your brother but your cousins, meaning some of your clothing has been well-loved three separate times before you get a chance to wear it. 

It has always been difficult for you to get a word in when your sister and brother are part of the conversation. 

Your childhood journal has the least amount of entries because I was so busy even if I did think, "I need to write this down," by the time I had a moment, I had forgotten what you did or said. 

And now, your milestone 16th birthday came and went and I am writing this letter to you weeks later. I even had to put a reminder in my phone to do it. 

You have, in many respects, raised yourself, in large part from observing your sister and brother and applying it to yourself. You've paid attention to their interactions with me and learned how to fly under the radar---not causing trouble, not having to listen to lectures. 

So what are you like at 16?

Well, you got your driving permit this past summer and have been learning how to drive, even though I'm pretty sure you won't be doing it much or at all on your own until your senior year (even used cars these days are ridiculously expensive). But you don't seem to be bothered or even a little concerned about this. 

Because your brother and sister are so busy with "real" jobs, you are now pretty much the lone worker at the neighborhood petsitting gig, which allows you to earn and save even more money. If anyone takes after his Pa in terms of saving every dollar he earns, it is you (with some competition from your cousin A). I often joke that you will buy a house and your brother will have to rent a room (he inherited from Papaw T his inability to hold a dollar in his pocket without spending it). 

Of my three kids, you are, by far, the snarkiest. 

At dinner this past August, when we were talking about what attributes each of you got from me or dad, you said, "I got my pettiness from mom," which is both hilarious and true. I can still recall when you were about 4 years old on vacation, a server at a restaurant said to you, "If you color your picture in, I'll hang it up." You smiled at her and as she walked away under your breath you mumbled, "No promises." 

You have a gentle spirit, which is why you are the animal whisperer. You have a way with cats and dogs that they seem to love. 

You also have amazing hair! You have grown it long, and I'm fairly certain it makes every girl who sees you very jealous. In your school photo this year, you are definitely giving off 80s hair band / serial killer vibes. I adore that picture of you because it makes me laugh every.single.time. 👇

The closer you get to age 18 and adulthood, the more I wonder about what you will do. You tolerate school but don't love it, and I suspect it is because of all the sitting. You have even remarked to me that you keep your grades up because you know it is expected but you are mostly bored. Now that your brother is doing early graduation, I anticipate you will follow suit. 

I have no clue what you will pursue as a career, but I can't see it being a desk job mostly because of how you feel about school. I think you'll want to do something that will allow you to be up and about. 

Even though I'm uncertain about what your future holds, I am very certain that I love you, and I am so very glad we got you as our bonus 16 years ago. We cannot imagine a life without you in it. 

Love you always,

Momma

Voting age birthday

 Dear G,

I don't know why it is that your older sister's birthdays seem to come slowly, while yours come flying out of nowhere. I suspect it is because she flew solo for almost four years before you came along. Those days dragged on forever sometimes. Once you arrived, and then your brother two years later, life has been on full throttle for me. Time hasn't stopped or even slowed down much since you arrived. 

You've experienced a lot of changes in the past year.

You finished up junior year without issues, although I think this is mostly because the first two years of high school wore you the heck out in terms of drama, and you've decided school is just for learning. You have never been a "joiner," but you had made friendships. Once those seemed to be more trouble than they were worth, you decided to forego those. You get in, you get out, you relax at home. That is your school day.

I can't say I blame you. You are sensitive guy, like your dad, and that is a wonderful thing to be...but maybe primarily as an adult. I am sure it is horrible as a teenager. Most teenage boys are in the thick of machismo---beating their chests to prove they are guys to other guys. None of them have the emotional wherewithal to accept that whatever kind of guy they are is the guy they are, and they have nothing to prove to anyone. (I suspect I need to also relay this memo to a certain Secretary of Defense who seems to think that being a man means no feelings and macho-macho all the time.)

I digress. 

The upshot of avoiding drama is that you're on track to graduate a semester early. You got a job in July, despite all my worrying that it wouldn't happen, and have been working close to 30 hours a week as part of your co-op, plus keeping your grades up in your other classes. Dad and I are really impressed with you!

I'm proud of the way you pack your lunch the night before work and leave your work clothes on the table so you can grab them on your way out. You do an excellent job of staying on top of your responsibilities. And when I see you at work, I see you in a different light, not as your mom but as a customer, as a stranger. It is kind of fun to see you through that lens. I think, "What a handsome young man with a nice smile." 

Your job has given you topics of conversation including the gigantic apple you were amazed to show us and the workplace gossip that you share with us. 

You got your license after a few hiccups, but I think that was anxiety rather than not knowing what you're doing. Trust me, there are plenty of people on the road doing crazy shit, and you're not one of them. I'm proud of you for being careful. Now just watch out for the bozos. 

I enjoy our movie nights together and the conversations that come from those evenings. We've covered a lot of ground, from silent films for your film class to zombie flicks (28 Weeks Later) to war films (All Quiet on the Western Front) to mind-blowers like Tenet. 

I remember several years ago when you couldn't stand the idea of becoming a young man and fought it with everything in you, and now here you are,...a young man. You still have about six more years worth of prefrontal cortex develop on tap, but you have come such a long way from your days of tantrums and unmanageable anxiety. 

I don't know what the next few years will bring in terms of college and jobs and all that. I suspect I will go into them as I have since you were little: a little afraid of how you will do, wondering if it will overwhelm you. But in every situation, my worries were unfounded. I worried about kindergarten, and you did great. Then middle school. Then high school. This isn't to say that there weren't problems and unhappiness; those are part of life. But we managed them together, and we will continue to do that. 

You are a smart guy and, more importantly, you are sensitive and open to ideas. Sure, you still like to dig in your heels about change that you can't control but you are able to take a joke about it. Like when you say you want to move to Sweden as an adult, and I remind you that you hate the idea of me renovating the kitchen because it is too much change but sure...go ahead and change entire countries. 

You are one of a kind, G, and I'm so glad you're ours.

Love you,

Momma

A belated 21st bday letter (and the last one)

Dear N,

I know you reached the age of majority three years ago, but recently you reached yet another important milestone: 21. 

The only advice I gave to you was not to get so drunk that you got tossed out of Cardinal Stadium (which no longer exists) by the police due to public intoxication, which is what I did very soon after I turned 21. I also suffered a 5-day hangover, an act of stupidity I never, ever repeated. 

The first alcohol you bought as a 21-year-old. 

Over the years, I have tried to instill in you good things, but more importantly, I have tried to model those good things to you in how I live my own life. 

To be kind and compassionate but to also not allow others to manipulate you. 

To be honest but not cruel. 

To stand up for yourself but more importantly stand up for others who may not have the wherewithal to voice something themselves.

To never stop learning but to not allow information to steal your time or joy.

To listen to your inner voice but also learn from the mistakes and wisdom of others.

When I had you, I had a completely bonkers idea of what a mom should be for a child. In my 21 years of parenting, I have chilled out a lot, mostly because I have realized that I am mostly a guide and never a creator. Your life is not, never has been, and never will be, a reflection of my life; nor is my life a reflection on yours. We are both two individuals doing the best we can and hopefully making each other a little better during the journey. 

Several years ago, you told me that you want to have children and give them the kind of childhood you had. You want to stay home with them, and if that is what you want, I hope you are able to make it happen. But I admit a little piece of me thought, "Don't you want more for youself?"

And I felt conflicted by being both honored that you have such good memories of your childhood that you want to do exactly as I did and also somewhat saddened that you don't want more. I hated that I had this little sliver of internal discord. I have thought about it a lot over the years and come to this conclusion:

The best thing I will ever do with my life, and of which I am most proud, is raising three decent humans. 

But when I think of the other things I have done, and will do, I don't know that I jump down to 2 or 3 or 4. I think I jump in terms of decimal points.

Because at 1.1 would be teaching and playing a role in other young people's lives. You know I still, at age 51, have a relationship with my own middle school teacher, Mrs. S, and I suspect with social media, I will be in some kind of contact with my own former students when they are 51. There is something wondrous about being a part of someone's life, watching them spiral out into the world, and knowing that you played a tiny part in that formation. 

At 1.2 I might put establishing a writing career. And 1.3 is managing to sustain a long-term relationship with your dad. And none of those things have anything to do with me being a mother or a stay-at-home mother for the years that I was. 

Suffice it to say, you will figure things out in your own life, and you will struggle with the choices you make and the things life throws at you. But you will continue learning, whether it be from raising your own children, or from watching me live my life. My parents are 82 and 86, and even though they have loads of experience, each new day brings them new things they've never experienced, such as having a first granddaughter who is now 21. I am still learning from my parents and will until they are gone (and likely beyond). 

So, of course, I'm not wiping my hands of you and saying "You're on your own, kid!" But it is nice to be able to step back and watch you live the way you wish. 

With you turning 21, it is also time for these letters to you to end. I went back through these birthday posts, thinking I had written them your entire life, but I could only find them dating back to when you were seven, which is when I think I finally came out a little bit from my motherhood fog. When you were seven, your brothers were four and two, and I came up for a little air. If you have your own children, you will understand this. 

You will always be my favorite girl, 

Momma

Bonus baby's quinceanero (because 15 is hard)

Dear M,

When I look at photos from our family trip to Scotland just a little over a year ago, I am amazed. You seem like such a baby compared to what you are now. I think you have grown a half a foot since that time, although some of that height may be in your hair. 

Worried about mom's driving in Scotland. 

You are, I think, the snarkiest person in our house, a title I've held for a long time and don't hand over easily. Perhaps what makes it so funny is that it is so unexpected given your general reserved demeanor. You don't say much, but when you do it has a sharp bite. You regularly make us roar at the dinner table. [Your birthday picture when you raised your shirt (as a reminder of your "MY NIPPLE" video when you were two) is evidence of this---completely unexpected.]

In August, you started high school with your brother. Each morning when you guys get out of the car, it is interesting to see you walk away. After so many years of you doing "same thing as G," it is clear that you have your distinct styles and personalities. While he is walking with purpose into the building, you have a slow slink; it is a reminder of your entire personality--high on chill.

The transition to high school has been easy. You don't talk much about school, but you also don't complain. You have met or remet some people you used to know in elementary school so that has been good; plus, you seem to have a fairly easy time making friendships. 

You continue to be the cat whisperer and are even willing to pause your dinner to go pet S or S when they flop on the floor. This fall break you got to do something you enjoy---power-washing. I still need to pay you for that (oops). You are always willing to be helpful to me, your grandparents, or really anyone. That is a good quality to have. 

What stuns me about you turning 15 is that in one year I will begin teaching you to drive, a fact that seems impossible. How is my baby getting so big and hitting all these milestones so quickly? It took forever, it seems, to get N to hers. G's have come quicker, and yours have spun me in circles with their speed. 

You were and are my unexpected joy, and I continue to watch you peel back the layers of your personality and become who you are. I'm glad you are my bonus baby.

Love,

Mama

Young and sweet, only 17

 Dear G,

This past week you turned 17.

I've said this before, but I have a harder time believing yours and M's milestones than I do N's. I'm not entirely sure why. I suspect it is because I had three and a half years with just her, when time moved so slowly. Once you and your brother came along, time started moving at lightspeed. 

Plus, N hit her adult size by middle school, while you and your brother continue the normal slow-grow of maleness, in which one week you are tiny, the next you tower above me, and within six months I need a small crane to give you a proper hug. (I have been the smallest  one in the family for awhile now, at least in terms of stature.)

So where is your life in this moment?

Well, you've had a bumpy and busy six months or so. 

You experienced an unpleasant falling out with some friends in the spring, which is good training since these things can and do happen no matter your age. You worked your first job this past summer, which provided you not only a paycheck but the experience of tedium which all jobs have at least some of the time. You took the permit test and have spent about seven hours behind the wheel, which I think has further cemented your desire to one day move to Europe and use their great public transportation system. 

You are taking eight classes this school year, including an AP, a dual-credit, and an online one, and you are very focused on school being for learning, not for socializing. You are your father's son, for sure. 

One thing that has surprised me is your desire to try some new clothing, which might not seem like a big deal but totally is. You come from at least two generations of persnickety clothes-wearers (me and your Nana), and while I will not be sad when I no longer have to be involved with your clothes purchases, I am proud of you for trying new styles and textures. 

We continue to have movie weekends, and it is fun to hear you pronounce virtually of them as being in your Top 10. Fortunately, we have raised you to be willing to laugh at yourself so when we poke fun of you for saying this, you are (mostly) willing to enjoy the joke. 

Even harder for me to believe is the reality that in less than a year you will be an official adult. I don't think either one of us is really prepared for that, but as I've learned, you move at your own pace in your own time. You have come such a long way since the days when you threw temper tantrums--I am thankful every day for the doctors, nurses, and therapists who have helped (and continue to help) you become comfortable in your own skin. 

You have always been sensitive and empathic, and while these are wonderful qualities, they can make it hard to live in this world.  I hope if you've internalized anything in these 17 years, it is that your dad and I love you so much and that we want to help you become the best version of yourself you can be. While the struggles you've experienced haven't always been about happy events and conversations, these have led us to understand you better, you to understand yourself better, and all of us to more firmly solidify our bond. 

Enjoy your new games and your key lime pie!

Momma

Entering your third decade

Dear N,

This morning I mentioned your father's cereal eating habits over the last 26 years, and I phrased it like this:

"The first decade, he ate Raisin Bran. The second decade of our marriage, he ate muesli. We're in the third decade and he's eating Maple Pecan cereal. Who knows what the fourth decade will entail?"

It surprised me that he and I will, before long, enter our fourth decade of marriage, which prompted you to ask whether you are entering your third decade of life. And the answer is YES. 

How crazy for both of us!

I know three decades seems old to you, but I've got three MORE decades of life experience on you; to me, you are still wet behind the ears. I say this, though, knowing that to Nana, I am still wet behind the ears since she has three and a half more decades of experience than I do. It's all relative. 

It sometimes drives you crazy when I make "suggestions" for you to consider in terms of your life, your education, your path forward. It drove me crazy when Nana did the same to me, like when she said "Maybe you should be a teacher" when I was in undergraduate studies. I didn't want to be a teacher. Or I didn't want to be a teacher then. It was only after graduating and working for a while in a dull job that I reconsidered. 

Yesterday, I spoke to our financial advisor, and he asked about you. When I told him I had suggested grant writing as something for you to consider, he laughed and said something on the order of, "There are lies and then there is grant writing." This made me laugh. I know you want to write fantasy, so maybe grant writing will fit into that plan. 

You will do many things in your life. You may decide that something I've suggested is a good fit; you may not. But I would be violating the "mother code" if I didn't share some of what I've learned in those three decades of life I have on you. Plus, sometimes even though we know ourselves best, we also have blindspots or things we need someone to point out to us. 

I hope you know that whatever you do is ok with me (I mean legal whatever you do). You are bright and kind and overall a good, decent person. What more could a parent ask for? 

I hope you also know that I have never thought of you as a reflection of me. You are your own wonderful person. I am also pretty freaking awesome, so I don't need to ride on your youthful coattails or find joy only in what you do. That can be a heavy weight for a young person to carry; the weight of responsibility they feel their parents are forcing on them--the weight to make a certain grade, have a certain job, earn a certain amount of money, live in a certain house, marry a certain type of person. Parents don't do their children favors when they forget that just because something would be their preference doesn't mean it is their children's preference. 

Your 20th year will be full of new things, including entering your junior year of college (mind-boggling). I hope you enjoy them, have fun, learn a few things, make friends and connections, do what makes you content. I love you through it all.

Momma

Same thing as G birthday-wise

Dear M,

My bonus baby is 14 now, and it is hard for me to believe. 

You've changed a lot in the past year, mostly height wise because you are now officially TALLER THAN ME. I'm now the shortest person in the house, which is strange. 

I watch you saunter toward the car during school pickup and am astounded by how different you are from even a year ago. Taller, deeper voice, snarkier comments (which mostly make us laugh). 

You are the hardest of my children for me to figure out. For so many years, whenever I would ask your opinion, you would respond, "Same thing as G." So that's what you got: the same thing. We didn't know what you, M, actually liked.

Now, you have left that line behind, but when we ask you what you like or want, you mostly respond, "I don't know," which is harder for me to comprehend than your previous standard response. 

Like your dad, you struggle with making decisions. You are pretty happy with whatever as long as someone else makes the call. 

So how would I describe you at 14?

• You are a pet whisperer: you have a special way with animals that makes them like you. 
• You like doing work, having recently discovered an affinity for power-washing. (When I think about what job or career you might pursue, I always wonder if it will be something that blends desk-work with being up and about.) 
• You do not like watching movies; it is a miracle if we can get you to watch one with us. 
• You are definitely more like your Pa because he loves to save money and so do you! (G takes after Papaw T who couldn't keep $5 in his pocket without it burning a hole.) 
• You recently told us that your nickname with friends is Benson. It makes me happy to know you have a group of friends who have given you a nickname. 
• You never wear a shirt if you can help it, which makes for some awkward family photos.

I love the dry humor you bring to the table (literally, every night at dinner) and the look you give whenever Dad pulls up a photo on his phone of you as a chunky toddler. That is what I see when I look at you, even though you're now a couple inches above me. 

Hope this year is a good one!

Love you,

Momma

You made it to 16

Dear G,

You just recently turned 16, and I have to admit, I'm a little surprised. Given our struggles when you were younger, I wondered if I wouldn't throttle you long before you reached this milestone. Sometimes I am amazed that the person who towers over me now and has a pretty mature emotional outlook used to be the kid who couldn't control his feelings at all.

I'm not going to say I haven't learned anything from mothering your sister and brother, but being your mom has taught me the most (so far, anyway) because of your struggles. 

One thing I've learned from you is that kids are who they are and there is a lot of awesomeness to be proud of. You have always been a unique thinker, a sensitive person, and those are wonderful traits; we simply had to get your brain settled down enough so that those things could take center stage rather than anxiety. Unfortunately, anxiety feeds off anxiety, so your feelings set my feelings off, and that was never a great combination or experience for either of us. 

Being your mom has made me realize how critical it is to get as much help as soon as possible for kids who struggle so that their struggle doesn't have to become a lifetime one or one that cripples them. I'm thankful we had the resources to do that. I'm thankful we were open to the advice and help of professionals. Our only concern was helping you be happy and comfortable in who you are. 

You've gone through a lot of changes in the past year. You started high school and have done excellent in your classes; you adjusted like a champ. You had a girlfriend and experienced a breakup, which you also handled admirably. 

Because you've always had a very strong identity, I have sometimes felt like I knew exactly what you would do, but yet, as you get older, you increasingly surprise me. Like going to next week's event up in Indiana, which you originally said you didn't want to do (which didn't surprise me), and then changed your mind (which did).  I think it will be a fun experience for you, and I can't wait for you to tell us about it afterwards. 

I like to think that pushing you a little out of your comfort zone throughout your life has given you a sense that you can move out of it on your own even without our prodding. You did great on our family trip to Scotland and surprised me there, too, with loving haggis and climbing up to the Old Man of Storr, which I thought for sure you would complain about both. 

Another thing that has surprised me is your newfound desire to watch movies, which either you, me, and Dad or you and Dad have been doing at least once every weekend since June. It is so funny to see you discover films that we love (like Inception) or to hear you and your dad go on and on about Stanley Kubrick or space travel after watching 2001: A Space Odyssey. 

You have always been a bright, thoughtful, conscientious kid, but you are adding maturity to that which only makes you better. We are excited to watch you grow and change even more in the next 12 months. 

Love you,

Momma

Last year of teens

Dear N,

You have now embarked on your last year as an official teen, although your life is already very different from what it was a short 12 months ago.

It has been a strange year because you are learning how to navigate life as an adult, and I am learning how to not be a part of everything. This is not bad, for either of us. I have not once missed field hockey or high school events; it is totally ok that I'm not getting emails from school or having to fill out forms for you. This is the progression that every parent (every rational one, anyway) welcomes.  

I think you've adjusted to college. You were anxious your first semester, but you managed to pull all As and seem much more relaxed about second semester. You are enjoying your Philosophy in Science Fiction class (which I, your ever wise mom, recommended you take). It is fun for me and your dad to hear you talk about your classes. College can be a really cool time for you to figure yourself out (or at least begin a process that, if you're anything like me, will take until you're about 25 before you have a clearer sense of what you really want). 

You have gone through the friendship transition that takes place for most people after high school. Everyone goes in different directions, and you learn to make new friends or hang out with yourself for awhile. Those friendships were meaningful and served their place and time, but they often fade away. It can feel sad, but it can also feel liberating. I think for you it felt like both. 

I hope you know that I think you're a pretty marvelous young woman. You're bright and friendly, responsible and good-natured. You're the type of person it is easy to be around. You are, like me, a little addicted to books, but if this is your worst habit, I'm a lucky mom. We share weird cat videos via Instagram all the time; it is our love language, I think. I'm excited to go to Scotland with you and the rest of the gang this summer to explore and see some amazing things. I love that we are travel buddies, with you always happy to send me suggestions for the "next place."

Continue to work hard, be yourself, and try to think things through to their logical progression (which can be hard when that prefrontal cortex is still cooking). 

I'm really glad you came into my life 19 years ago.

I love you,

Momma

Keening because my baby is thirteen(ing) (not really)

Dear M,

Well, you've gone and done it. 

You are absolutely, positively, without a doubt, not in any way, shape, or form my baby anymore. 

You are almost as tall as me and taller than both of your grandmas.

You are starting to have little teenagery pimple breakouts.

You've got the biting humor of a sarcastic teenager. 

Even though you are absolutely, positively, without a doubt, not in any way, shape, or form my baby anymore, I'm not sad because it is so wonderful to see you becoming who you are, especially now that you aren't in your "Same thing as G" phase. 

Of course, you're sort of "meh" about a lot of things which makes it well-nigh impossible for me to know what you are actually interested in. 

It's not sports. And it's not tv. I know this much to be true.

So what do I know about you:

You sometimes like to go outside and play in the creek with your neighborhood friend, B. And you have a table of other 7th grade dudes you like to joke with at lunch. 

You make up the funniest songs or sing the funniest, random snippets of words that you put to a tune all the time. 

You have a quick wit about you and say things off the cuff that would take your dad two weeks to come up with and three days for me to come up with. Your brain works fast.

You are both a cat-whisperer and a dog-whisperer. It is a gentle way you have about you that animals recognize. 

Your mouth tries to keep up with your brainand isn't always successful. You talk fast, and we almost always have to ask you to repeat yourself. We blame it on you being the third child and having to quickly.sneak.in.anything.you.might.want.to.insert.in.the.conversation. 

Out of all of us, you seem to be the most high on chill. Things don't seem to bother you the way they do the rest of us. 

You really enjoy bubble wrap. 

You never wear shirts. Or socks. We have several casual family photos at birthdays, and you are always without a shirt. 

Most of all, I know that you are a great kid. A nice, quiet, hard-working, mostly easy-going 13-year-old who I am so, so glad is part of our family.

Love you,

Momma

The Foo, Smiths, Smashed Pumpkins, and a 15-year-old--birthday edition

Dear G,

Boy howdy! 

If I didn't know any better or hadn't witnessed the last couple years with my own eyes, I would think that a master race of aliens had visited our home and did a little switcheroo with the boy who used to live here. He has been replaced by a young man who is cool, able to laugh at himself, and better able to handle his emotions. 

Trying out your sister's boyfriend's sweet new ride. 

Today you are 15, an age that I might not have expected you to live to mostly because I thought I was gonna ring your neck with my bare hands many, many times during your earlier years. 

You love a Great Lake. 

Your fashion sense is...interesting.

You handsomed it up for 8th grade promotion in the spring. 

You started high school last month, and while your first days were not great, you have since gotten used to the flow, even being able to sleep on the bus going to school. You keep your earbuds at the ready and listen to a panoply of music that you are happy to share with me. You are, in fact, the official disc jockey of the car whenever we go anywhere. 

You've listened to the Foo Fighters, The Smiths, Radiohead, and are now on Smashing Pumpkins, and it is really great to know the sounds you like. Listening to it has helped me know you better as well as remind me of some really great music I'd forgotten. You are a blend of what I always called "whiny British music" that your dad always enjoyed and the grunge that I tended to lean towards. 

Your favorite class is Philosophy, and you're always telling me interesting things you learn there. Last week, you brought up the Trolley Problem and are now writing about the ethics of Mikhail Gorbachev. You have always been a deep thinker so it doesn't surprise me in the least that this is the class you most enjoy.

You continue to be a hard worker in school who doesn't procrastinate. You inherited many, many of my not-great qualities, but I admit I like that you don't put things off. (Ask your sister how crazy I make her because she tends to be less "in a hurry" than I am, and I have trouble controlling my anxiety. But I'm working on it.) I think you're like me in that you want your to-do list to be as short as possible or nonexistent.

Look at those lovely, expensive teeth. 

Since last year, you have gotten a girlfriend, and that has been a learning experience for both of us. You have tried more and different food in the last six months (which is annoying since you would NEVER try new foods when I asked). But you've also had some confusing and uncertain moments, and I'm so glad you talked to me about them. You are learning that relationships can be great, and they can be awful, and they can be confusing. 

I am incredibly proud of the young man you are and the one you will transform into during the next year. You have always followed the beat of your own drummer, from your long hair to your Steve Jobs-like commitment to wearing the same type of clothes day-in and day-out. That isn't always an easy road to walk, but you have never seemed to care what other people think (including me sometimes). That is admirable in a lot of ways and something it takes other people much longer to understand the freedom of. 

I'm glad you had a good celebration yesterday, and I hope the homework gods smile on you today and you aren't overwhelmed with work,

I love you,

Momma

Firsts and lasts in 18 years (Happy Birthday)

Dear N,

We are right on the cusp of your 18th birthday; a little under 24 hours to be exact. This time 18 years ago, I was hoping to have a natural birth. I was also so in need of medication for anxiety that I was pretty certain I would not actually bring home a live baby. 

Did I ever tell you the story of how I asked, when your dad and I bought your crib furniture, if I could return the items if the baby....you....died?

Thank your lucky stars I got medicated some 7 months after your birth.

My life changed in so many ways when you were born.

It was the last time I worked full-time.

It was the first time I felt completely unable to cope with the responsibility set before me (you did not come with a manual or a lifetime supply of "chill pills for mom.").

It was the first event that sparked a series of other events that led me to understand I had long had mental health issues.

You, however, were an easy baby, and thank goodness, because I doubt I could have handled anything else.

When I look at you now, I remember conversations I had with Daddy about what you might look like or be like when you "grew up," and now here you are....actually all the fuck grown up. (Sorry for the cussing, but, my god, HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?)

I could not be more proud of the young woman you are, and it has nothing to do with your smarts or your grades or your accomplishments. 

It has everything to do with your genuine niceness. You are simply a good person. You've never been a "mean" girl. You've not isolated others with snobbery. You've taken the lead on the high road more times than I can count. 

You are trustworthy and honest. You are reliable. People know you will do what you say you will do. 

When Daddy and I brought you home that first night, a night I remember distinctly because I DID NOT KNOW WHAT THE FUCK TO DO, I could not imagine that I would be typing this 18 years later. I could not imagine that you would be as awesome as you are. I hoped you would be awesome, but I didn't know what you might become. 

Did.not.know.what.the.fuck.I.was.doing.

I don't say it anywhere near often enough, but I am so proud of you. Not for what you've done, but for who you are. 

Your birthday always reminds me of firsts and lasts that I experienced around your birth. It was a big transitional period for me, and it took me years to adjust. Fortunately, you're not the worse for it. 

Since you didn't get a Sweet 16 due to COVID, and you didn't get a 17th party also due to COVID, I hope you have a fun time this weekend thoroughly enjoying yourself. 

You will always, always, always be my most favorite daughter and the first of my three greatest life blessings.

I love you,

Mom

My poor third child and his sad birthday

Dear M,

You, like lots of third children, get the butt end of the bread loaf when it comes to things like baby books and timely birthday letters. This letter is coming almost two weeks past your 12th birthday. 

Not to say you're happy with the scraps, but you don't know any different. And you have thrived nonetheless. 

Why was your birthday this year a sad state of affairs, you ask? 

Your 12th birthday was preceded by your COVID diagnosis so that threw a wrench in the works. The events and activities we had planned for the quarantine days got pushed back to the following week which meant your birthday and the days surrounding it were overwhelming.

Plus, your birthday has, for the past seven years, been highjacked by field hockey season. So the week of your birthday we added all the stuff we rescheduled from COVID quarantine plus the regular field hockey schedule fuckery. 

Your brother decided to be a bit of an asshat on your birthday, too, as a result of the aforementioned schedule fuckery and him being 14 and hormonal and a middle schooler. 

This birthday is one you won't remember and that is probably the very best thing. It was a complete pfffttt, although you did get chocolate cake and a big ass balloon that is still full of helium.

You are pretty wonderful kid. Not perfect, of course. You are an absolute bear in the morning. You HATE HATE HATE the early mornings of middle school. I have to start waking you at 6 am so that you have gotten your grumpiness out of your system by 6:50. 

And you are still tremendously undecided about everything, including what you want to eat. You interrupted the show Daddy and I were watching last night because you couldn't decide what ice cream you wanted to eat, and you needed my help. AND I STILL DON'T KNOW HOW EXACTLY I AM TO HELP YOU DECIDE WHAT YOU ARE HUNGRY FOR. 

Getting your first COVID shot this past weekend.  

But aside from those two minor things, you are the best youngest child I have and maybe the best youngest child ever. You are so mature about doing your schoolwork and taking initiative and being responsible. That is the benefit of being the third kid. I could send you off right this minute to college, and you'd probably be ok. 

You are such a reliable petsitter.

You and me and a cat playing chess. You always, always win.

You are the person in the family that everyone almost never gets angry or upset with. You are G's favorite and N's favorite, and they always adore you even when they are cat-fighting each other (although now that they are both teens, that happens less). 

You are S******s' best buddy; she runs to you and meows and hollers constantly. She chases you around the house and is very upset when you lock her out of your bedroom while you play with the VR headset. I tell Daddy that he and S**** are ridiculous together, but you and S******s are equally ridiculous. 

You love bubble wrap (a longtime fascination), and you are reading One-Punch Man and Attack on Titan graphic novels. Your favorite class this year is social studies which I was surprised by because last year you hated social studies (but maybe that was the NTI version of social studies). 

I am savoring this year because your body is still little boy size and skinny, and I know we are truly in short-time mode there. 

You have changed so much over the years but are still, and always will be, my sweet bonus baby boy. 

Love,

Momma

Birthday (not a) boy (but edging closer to being a man)

Dear G,

Something happened in the last 18 months.

Yes--global pandemic, but I'm not referring to that.

Yes--social justice movement, but I'm not referring to that.

Yes--doofuses trying to overthrow the election, but I'm not talking about that. 

What I am referring to is that as you edged closer to 14, you grew taller than me, started wearing men's sizes in clothes , and are totally baritone (no longer squeak). Teachers who had you in sixth grade have been astounded that you walked into the building this school year as, like, a full-grown man. 

And that's not even the most amazing part.

It's that you have matured so much. 

I know teenagers get a lot of grief and people often say they don't like teenagers, but one of the best things about teenagers is that they can and do understand quiet reason and explanation. It used to be that if there was something you didn't like, you'd throw a complete duck fit.

Now, if you are upset, you go find a quiet spot and chill. And then once you're calm, we can discuss. And usually, you understand where I'm coming from and you explain yourself in a way so I know where you are coming from. 

Of course, you still grunt a lot. And you start every sentence with "Basically." And you talk about video games and TikTok videos that go completely over my head. And we're still working on getting you beyond mozzarella sticks as meals. 

I really worried about how you would do going back to school while the COVID pandemic rages on and even worse than last year due to the Delta variant. But you've done great. Sure, you aren't eating at school, but I can't blame you. I don't feel comfortable eating inside close to other people, and you maybe have 12 inches between you and a peer. And you've had a couple little blips with tying your shoes but after talking about it with you, I've seen you working to manage your anxiety. 

Now, not all is glory. I was about ready to murder you on Friday night when you were finishing up assignments that, at least for two of them, should have been finished on Thursday. Your pre-frontal cortex is only a little over halfway baked; only ten more years to go. BUT, to expect anything different would be to expect perfection. 

And while, as my son you have a glow of hazy perfection about you, you are not a perfect person and never will be. 

I love that you talk to me in ways that I'm not sure other boys talk to their moms. You don't tell me your deepest darkest fears, but you come to me with questions and you bring up things you think about or things you like which gives me greater insight into who you are. 

It has been fun to watch you move from an interest in Korean music to Russian music to Bob Marley music. Now, you are increasingly interested in cars and learning about them so I told you to go get a job at Valvoline when you turn 16. You recently had to write a resume for one of your classes, and it was interesting for me to see what you envision for yourself. (I was NOT surprised that you want to work at Dairy Queen; it is your favorite place to eat at the moment.)

If there is a worst part to having you be more firmly fixed in teenagerdom, it is that you rarely allow me to take your photo. 

I hope this year is as good as it can be for you given all the continued uncertainty with everything. Today you will get your favorite food (what Blizzard will you pick?). You will open a present or two. It will be chill because of M's COVID test last week; we will save celebrations with grandparents until M is fully vaccinated in a few weeks. 

I know you know that your dad and I love you. We would do anything for you (except hide you from the police if you are a murder suspect; I ain't doing that. You do stupid stuff, you deal with the consequences of your actions). 

We will always support you (again, except in that murder situation). But even if we didn't hide you, we will always love you and want what is best for you to become the kind, intelligent, young man you are. 

Love, 

Momma

17th birthday letter

Dear N,

This week you will have your 17th birthday and yet I can still remember so clearly setting you on the floor in your portable car seat the night that your dad and I brought you home from the hospital.

I remember thinking, "I don't know what in the fuck I'm doing."

And 17 years still later, I still don't know what in the fuck I'm doing. 

You change and I change and life changes around us. 

What hasn't changed is that I'm still winging it. 

You never really got to celebrate your 16th birthday because your birthday always comes in the thick of Girl Scout cookie booth season (late Feb-mid March). 

By the time that was ending last year, COVID had hit, and we were quarantining.

This was your cupcake when we finally got to celebrate with family. 

Your 16th birthday gift was to see Elton John in concert, which was canceled and is "supposed" to happen in spring 2022. 

We shall see. 

Your field hockey season was weird.

Your junior year of high school has been weird.

And on top of all that, we've dealt with Pa's cancer, surgeries, and treatment. 

I can't say this has been an especially easy year for our family.

I have been thinking a lot about being a mother to you as I'm also thinking about being a daughter to my own parents.

As I'm seeing you grow up, I'm seeing them grow old.

[I realize I'm talking about me at the moment which is SO NOT COOL in a birthday letter but bear with me.]

It occurred to me one day recently that having a child means subjecting that child to loss. 

Yes, I know, this is a DUH moment because life is all about loss and sadness but that is not at all what people think about when they find out they are having a wanted child. 

But a big loss/sadness is watching your parents become older, become different from the strong people they used to be. They are still themselves but smaller, weaker, more fatigued, more fragile. 

Having a child means subjecting that child to having to become an adult, and even though your dad and I had you and bought a house and have bank accounts and do grown-up stuff, we're still children as long as our parents are around. 

So in thinking about when you were born, I thought about how we made the decision (unknowingly) that you would suffer, be sad, experience loss. 

As I'm watching my parents get older, I'm looking at you and feeling thankful that I see my beautiful and funny and kind and a little-bit-weird daughter who helps balance out the sadness I feel in my own role as a daughter right now.

 

Today, when I sat chatting with Nana, she told me about her own mom getting older years and years ago. Grandma's eyes were so poor she had the thickest glasses the eye doctor could make plus a magnifying glass to read the paper. 

Nana told me that her mom said to her, "What if I go blind?"

And Nana said, "Well, I guess you'll just bump into stuff."

And I laughed.

Nana didn't say that to her mom really (those were her thoughts at the time), but it sounded like something I would say, and it occurred to me that, unfortunately (or maybe fortunately) for you, you come from at least 2 generations of women who are funny and have close relationships with their own moms. 

I hope that this 17th year is as happy as it can be given all the crap going on around us. 

Your life will not be always happy and joyous which is what every parent imagines their baby's life will be on the night they bring them home from the hospital. 

Every parent expects the world to crack wide open for their child and every parent experiences the harsh realization that this will not happen. 

Their child will be human; flawed and full of foibles. 

The world will not always or even often be kind. 

Your life will be happy and sad and frustrating and easy at all different times and in lots of different ways.  

I hope that throughout your life you are able to enjoy the happy and easy and sit with the sad and frustrating, knowing that all of these things will ebb and flow. 

I hope throughout your life you know I have always loved you. 

Momma