Twelve

Dearest SC,

As I pointed out to you tonight, it may be your 12th birthday, but it's also my 12th anniversary of being a mom. And considering that I'm the one who did all the work and still has the battle scars (c-section and all that goes with it :>), I think that maybe I should be the one who gets the gifts!

How the hell did this happen? I found a picture of you with your cousin Meli the other day. She was 10, you were about 7 or 8 months old, and you both were smiling broadly. Now she's almost 22, with 2 little kids of her own, and here you are, nearly as tall as I am!

Eleven wasn't the easiest year for you. It was the year you struggled again with math. It was the year there were only 11 girls in the fifth grade, and they all paired up--and left you out.  It was the year your "best" friend betrayed you.

You struggled, you cried. But you also chronicled the behavior of your classmates with a pithiness that made me shriek with laughter.

Hey,if you don't want me to read your journals, don't leave them lying around!

Eleven wasn't an easy year. But it had its wondrous moments. The day before your 5th grade graduation (where you were ignored by those catty girls) you'd been the star of your ballet recital. Watching you dance so beautifully, so tall and self-assured made me so proud to be your mother!

You got to travel on our long road trip. And you got to do something I've never done--take a cruise. You even got to go to another country!

You walked into your new middle school with your head held high and confident. You made new friends.
You kept struggling with math. But you've done so well in all your other classes, you've ended up on the honor roll 2 quarters running.

And your old "best" friend suddenly started relying on YOU to be HER friend, instead of the other way around. Sweet...

I annoy you by making you brush your hair and send you back to change your shirts so that your bra straps don't show. I bug you about your homework assignments and get on your case when you don't stretch enough for ballet class.

I'm a nagging mother. Though frankly, compared to your Grandma, I'm a rank amateur!

But know this, SC, as I told you the other evening:

You are my firstborn, my oldest daughter. You are my heart and my soul.

And no matter who else loves or will love you in your life, no one will love you the way I do.

Happy birthday.

Love,

Mommy

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