Lucky Number Thirteen

This past weekend was NOT spent celebrating our thirteen (yes, thirteen!) years of wedded bliss with a candlelit dinner. Or a quiet evening in front of a cozy fireplace. Or going to see a movie rated something beyond PG. Or a last minute trip to Sedona for a romantic getaway.

It was a weekend of everyday family life – a cousin’s baby shower, pizza night at home watching Men In Black 3, the boys going hunting on Sunday – topped off with one very grumpy 8-month-old who kept us up much of the night for almost three days.

A baby who’s sweet daddy walked her and sat up with her much of the night so that her mama could sleep.  And I realized that this is one of the things that you don’t really know about someone before you marry them.

Actually, it’s probably one of the things you don’t really focus on because you’re busy thinking about how cute and funny he is. Or how much you just want to be around him. Or what you’ll be doing when he proposes. Or what color your bridesmaid’s dresses will be. Or where you’ll go on your honeymoon (hypothetically, of course). Or what restaurant he’ll take you to on your first anniversary. Or what your children will look like.

And so you don’t focus on questions like will he stay up at night and walk the baby so that I can get some much needed sleep?

Or will he be a good, loving daddy who adores his son and two little girls?

Will he be a good, loving provider and work hard without complaining?

Will he be patient with me even when I am completely emotional and irrational?

Will he hold my hand in the delivery room while I’m in labor and be my biggest champion for natural childbirth and breastfeeding?

Will he be accepting and forgiving of my faults?

Will he go to the park and throw the football with the kids even after a long day or week?

Will he make the kids pancakes and bacon on the weekends because he knows how much I dislike cooking breakfast food?

Will it drive me crazy when he leaves dishtowels scattered all over the kitchen counter?

Will there be times he’ll watch Road Warrior or Terminator 2 whenever they are on even though he has seen each of them no less than 348 times?

Will he change the lyrics of almost every song ever to make his own vulgar or politically incorrect version of the song?

Will he put dead deer heads on my walls?

As it turns out, the answer to all of these questions is yes.
And will he still make me laugh after thirteen years of marriage?

Yes. Yes he will.

Eight

My oldest daughter is eight years old today. Eight. How is that even possible, considering she was born only last year.

In these beautiful and wild and crazy eight years, she has given me more joy and laughter and heartache than I ever could have imagined possible.  At just 9 months old, she started walking, and I have been trying to keep up with each new step of independence ever since.  But it’s not easy.

When she started Kindergarten, I had the privilege of walking her into her classroom every day. It was always a bright spot in my day.  And then she started 1^st grade at “the big kid school.”  For the first two weeks, she had me walk her to class, just like we had always done.  And then one day, she just looked at me and said “Mama, you can just drop me off at parent drop off.”

“Are you sure? You don’t want me to walk you in?”

“Mama, it’s ok, I’m a big kid, in case you didn’t notice.”

And my heart wept.  I did notice. She had grown up so darn quick. Too fast. To me, she'll always be that sweet four-year-old who loved to dress up as Cinderella. And wear fancy dresses everywhere.

As I was driving away, I felt tears come to my eyes. You would have thought I was pulling away from her college dorm, knowing I wouldn’t hear from her until she was out of money or clean clothes. Or both. 

Quit being dramatic, I told myself.  But even as a mother to a wildly independent child, something about watching her walk into school for the first time by herself made me think of all the ways I’ll have to let her go over a lifetime. The truth is, I don’t really want to let her go, yet I’m so proud that she has the self-confidence to take those steps away from me.

 

And now, as a newly eight-year-old, I watch her take steps that are bigger and bigger. And she does them all with spunk and individuality. I think that God put more personality into that little body than should be allowed, and I cannot wait to see what both of them do with it.

I love this child more and more with each passing day; not a day goes by that she doesn’t surprise me with her unique perspective on life. She makes me laugh out loud. She makes me proud. She tests my patience. But this only serves to help us both grow and realize that she is an individual and doesn’t fit into any preconceived box.  She reminds me that these are the magical years. And to hold on loosely…for as long as she’ll let me.

As much as I look forward to watching her grow into a beautiful young woman, I am also a little sad that turning eight means the pure, little girl sweetness has just about run it’s course.  Of course, this child has already filled us up with her share of drama, but underneath it all, the innocent, free-spirited child is always there.  Each passing year just makes it a little bit harder to find.

But the greatest gift I could ever ask for is getting to see the world through her eyes. It is funny. And spontaneous. And magical. And chaotic. And intricately detailed. And absolutely beautiful.

happy 8^th birthday, sweet girl.