For several years I have written a post or a letter of sorts to my girls on or around their birthdays. Now each time a birthday rolls around I wonder if this is a good use of space in a public blogosphere. It seems a bit too personal and sentimental. But then I think about the significance of birthdays and how they are an opportunity to give thanks for the lives of the people around us. Birthdays remind us who we love and why we love them. They remind us there is a time for celebration. As Lewis Carroll said:
There are three hundred and sixty-four days when you might get un-birthday presents, and only one for birthday presents, you know.
So, I press on. And in keeping with tradition, here are a few things I want our newly turned eleven-year old to know I enjoy about her:
Dear Fifth-Grader:
• You’re an old soul. Your main birthday request this year was for the colorized collection of “I Love Lucy” episodes. You enjoy pop culture, but you appreciate good comedy when you see it—vintage or not.
• You’re curious. You need to know how deep the lake is and if Judas (referred to as “Judas the Scariest” by you when you were younger) went to heaven or hell. You’re not content with canned or quick responses. You want real answers to life’s hard questions. I appreciate Google, YouTube, and the concordance in the back or my Bible more because of you.
• You know who you are and what you like. When we went on a family hike this past winter I was blabbing on and on about how good it was for us to be out in nature. You finally said matter-of-factly, “I hate nature. It’s gross and muddy.” You would unashamedly choose a plush robe and a morning at the spa over a backpack and an outdoor adventure any day.
• You’re a good caretaker of the people you love. When either of your more daring sisters are doing something dangerous, I can count on you reporting it immediately. And when they are sick, you diligently keep an eye on them from the safety of another room, occasionally delivering an iPad or a drink to them… wrapped in paper towels. On any given day you can tell me who visited the school clinic and for what reason. You prioritize safety and sanitation, but you really do care about others.
• You’re determined. I love listening to you learn to play piano. Sometimes your practice sessions bring out the worst in both of us. But at the end of the day you have a sincere enjoyment of the piano that I’m excited to watch develop. I even like it when you’re mad at me and you proceed to play bang out “Can You Feel the Love Tonight?” as loud and hatefully as you possibly can. You’re learning—and reminding me along the way—how important it is to channel our emotions into something bigger than ourselves.
• You’re honest. You’re observant and unafraid to shoot straight with me about everything, including my failures as a parent. Last year you pointed out to me that: “All the other moms come to lunch or work in the classroom, and you just go on the field trips.” It’s true; and you’re not afraid to tell me what you think about it. You’re also full of honest advice. You once told me, “You’re not using the right stuff on our clothes. Oxyclean gets out tough stains.” I know I can ask you how an outfit looks or if you like a certain hairstyle and you will have an informed, unfiltered opinion on the matter.
• You love a good story. You might be the only child I know who wants to visit the Dolly Parton museum every time we go to Dollywood. Dolly’s life story {and the way she decorates her tour bus} matters to you just as much as the River Rampage. Same with Walt Disney. Sure, you enjoy some of the rides. But you’re mainly there for the snacks and the Disney stories, all of them.
• You’re kind to animals. As you know, this week your dog sister is turning five years old. She often exasperates you with her embarrassing antics. But you may remember how the veterinarian told us a few years ago that she would settle down and be a really good dog when she was five?
It seems unlikely, but for your sake, I hope Rosie does settle a bit. I would hate for her to embarrass you in the school pickup line. But even if/when she does, I know you’ll forgive her.
Oh, Fifth Grader, I hope you know how much we love you.
On your birthday week and every other week, may you and all the other peace-making middle children of the world know you are seen and celebrated.
Love,
Mom
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