9

Yesterday you turned 9. It's amazing how time flies. This weekend you sat in my lap, and I thought of how I used to hold you, a newborn, in one arm. With the way you're growing you'll be taller than me in no time. And that's no small feat, as I'm 5'10". You used to say you wanted to be as tall as daddy (6'5"). Do you still want that?

I'm grateful you still sit in my lap. Occasionally you'll hold my hand walking home from the bus stop or crossing a street. Briefly, so briefly, and I remember how much I've always loved the feel of your soft hand in mine.

You're a Daddy's girl through and through. He's clearly your favorite person in the world, and you miss him when he's gone and rejoice in his returning. He tickles you and calls you his weasel and you squeal in protest, loving every minute of it.

You lost your grandfather this year, and handled his last days with so much love and grace. You spent endless hours over several months at his bedside, and it's no secret you were his favorite visitor. On his last night you shared a meal of macaroni and cheese and ice cream. The next morning you sat in the the living room with his lifeless body before the funeral home came to take him away. In the weeks that followed we talked about life and death and God and heaven and your late Uncle Greg. I explained cremation and tried to talk with you about soul.

It's been a hard year for me, and I wonder how much that has effected you. I know my patience and creativity and energy have been lagging, and I'm sorry for the times that I snapped at you and wasn't up to playing.

You're on the edge of childhood and the tween years. You still play with Barbies and Zoobles and Littlest Pet Shop. You're starting to take some flack for that. A girl in your class made fun of you for taking home the empty tissue box to make a home for your LPS. You were hurt by that, but I was proud to see you bring home another empty box a few days later. Stuffed animals trail behind you wherever you go, and you rotate your favorites. You love real animals, too, of all ilk. Foxes are your latest favorite. I'm not quite sure yet how I'll help you be a fox for Halloween.

As you get older I feel more pressure to pass on the things I want you to learn, most importantly to be KIND first. I'm also trying to figure out how to help you see things from a different point of view and to not take everything so personally. As an only child there are experiences you've lacked that might have helped you learn these things. I'm trying to help you navigate the waters of interacting with others.

You have some great friends, friends who love to play and laugh and be silly. I hope these friends become lifelong rocks for you.

9 years. Thank you for sharing your life with us for 9 years. You're halfway to adulthood. Halfway to college. I wish sometimes I could make time stand still, or reverse it. But we are here, now. Let's enjoy every minute.

Seven

7 years ago tonight I was in the hospital. I had been in labor for 41 hours at this point, and had just finally given in and decided to get the epidural. My birth plan had been to go completely drug free, but at 2 weeks overdue and labor not progressing I was worried I wouldn't be strong enough to deliver you if I didn't get some rest, which the epidural did allow me to do. I don't regret that decision, although I wish I hadn't had to make it. I remember that The West Wing was on when they came in to give me a shot, and I was trying to watch it at the same time that they were sticking a needle in my spine.

I would be in labor for another 7 and a half hours beyond that, with nearly 2 hours of that spent pushing.

I think you must have been pretty comfortable in there.

But on October 3, 2002 at 4:35 am, PST, you finally entered the world.

And my world will never been the same.

You have brought me immeasurable joy. Pride. But most of all, love. Some days you exasperate me to no end, but the love is still there. Will always be there. There is nothing you can do that will change that. Nothing. I will always love you.

48 hours of labor. It's a story I always tell expectant mothers to ask for AFTER they've given birth. I don't want to scare them.

But I always end the story the same way.

I would do it all over again, in a heartbeat. Without a second thought. It was more than worth it.

Happy 7th birthday, baby.

Backyard Beach Birthday Bash

After 2 performances today I rushed home and got ready to host 21 six to ten year olds for The May Queen' 7th birthday party. Whew. Shark Fin and Beach Umbrella Cupcakes. I stole the idea from Martha Stewart. Easy and fun. The kids loved them.

Surfer Girl.

I took a picture of every kid "surfing" on this boogy board (on a surf of blue bedsheets). The shark, of course, came from my personal collection. We'll use the pictures for thank you notes. (and yes, I did have the Best of the Beach Boys CD playing in the background, why do you ask?)


Most of the kids cheated at limbo, but they still loved it.


We played several water games, including "fill the milk jug by squeezing the sponge." The kids seemed to like this one the best, oddly enough.


Presents were, of course, the highlight for The May Queen. I wish I could convince her otherwise, but she is still all about the loot. She did enjoy the whole party, though. I did, too. So did all the kids.

Success, all around.