Archives for July 2018

A Letter To My Daughter as She Turns 13

Dear Pumpkin,

As of just a few minutes shy of 6 a.m., you are officially a teenager.

Holy moley.

I don’t even know how that happened or where time went (I know, I say that every year). We are just a few weeks shy of the beginning of eight grade and you are so excited for school to start. Admittedly, it hasn’t been an exciting summer. I’ve been busier than usual and we’ve been unable to find time to get away just yet. But in addition to the boredom, you miss your friends.

This is the year you’ve found your tribe. I’m so excited for you – it’s such an awesome thing to find your people and to develop those friendships. You’ve found a delightful group of creatives and big thinkers and I’m so glad for you to have found that. So you’re ready to get back to school and begin the new year, this last year of middle school (YIKES).

I have two teenage daughters. Whoa. And it’s been an adventure – I won’t pretend that there aren’t some moments that make me want to roll my eyes or pull my hair out. I’m sure you girls have those kind of moments about me, too. But I like seeing who you are becoming.

You are a straight A student. A creative writer. You are terrified you might accidentally plagiarize someone even though you pride yourself on your originality. You are worrisome. You are bold in thought. You are comfortable disagreeing with people. You are passionate about doing what’s right. You wish people were nicer to honey bees. You love English and don’t love math. You want to be on stage some day and have taken voice lessons this summer. You seem to keep forgetting how to do laundry. You are on that line where you struggle with wanting to grow up and wanting to be a kid. You are loving. You want your space. You are an empath. You love Broadway showtunes. You want to travel someday (and now).

I’m really excited for you, about you. You are going to do big things.

This year was a year we’ll probably never forget. In March, you were walking across the parking lot at school and you were hit by a car. (I know you know this, but by the time you read these letters you may have forgotten when it happened). Anyway, in March you were hit by a teen driver who somehow didn’t see you crossing. (I don’t know how, I really don’t). I will probably never forget the call as long as I live, your sister calling to tell me you were fine but that you’d been hit by a car. She was sobbing, so of course I couldn’t really believe you were fine. My coworker drove me to the hospital and I beat the ambulance there – and the wait was torturous. I just needed to see you.

And of course, since I’m writing you this, obviously you WERE indeed fine. They were able to rule out an ankle fracture though it was quite deformed (and badly sprained) and you spent the next several weeks on crutches physically recovering, while I remained an emotional wreck. I mean, I’m still a wreck, if you must know. The whole time, you had such a good attitude. You never seemed upset or mad. You had a performance for your Odyssey of the Mind team two days after wards. Anyone would have understood if you didn’t show up – but you were there, wheeling on a knee scooter, showing up and being there for your team despite the pain you were in. And a week later, you were on stage in your school play – ON crutches that were three inches too tall for you! – because you still wanted to be a part of it all. I don’t know if I can even explain how proud I was of your ability to push through it all – and stunned, too. You could have taken the easy route, but it never even crossed your mind.

I really admire that about you.

You are strong and you stand your ground and for that reason, you can be difficult sometimes but I know how well that will serve you in life (even if it’s a challenge now!).

I’m very excited for you, for this year, and for what is ahead.

You are an amazing dreamer, and daring creative, and a beautiful soul. I love you so very much.

 

Happy birthday, sweet girl. I’m so lucky to be your mama,

Love,

Mom