My Daughter

Tomorrow is my daughter's birthday. I'm not going to say how old she is--it just reminds me of how old I am! Let's just say she's in her thirties, married with 2 children. I am sure —or I should say, I hope — that she knows how proud I am of her. I am sure that she knows how much I love her and that I admire her immensely. I am sure of that. I always told my children as they were growing up how much I loved them and how proud I was, but it seems as they grow older, I verbalize it less. My tenderness is most shown now to my grandchildren, and that bothers me a little. So I thought I'd write this blog all about her and what I truly think of her.

She looks and acts exactly as one might expect--she is a true division of her father and me--with the attributes of both of us. The first thing I noticed after her birth was the fact that she had her father's feet and hands. It was remarkable to me. As I sat holding her in my arms, I was amazed that a baby could look like a person. I don't know why — it just surprised me. She was a tiny thing, weighing only 6 lbs 6 oz. I loved that she was so little. I wanted out of that hospital fast and into my own home so that I could take care of her my way. I was extremely scheduled, and she followed along nicely. Sleeping 12 hours at night, yes, I said 12, and taking good naps during the day--my little baby girl was a breeze. Until she hit age 2.

I don't want to belabor the terrible 2's, or the why? 3s, or the smart-mouth 4s — let's just say it was a rough 3 years. And then she started school. She was very independent--as we were waiting in line for her first day of kindergarten, she let go of my hand, and that was that.  She no longer needed me. She was in her element--friends and fun were about to begin. I cried all the way home--so much so that at one point I had to pull off to the side of the road.

I have to honestly say that, other than hormonal inconsistencies every so often, she was easy to raise.  Sure, there were frequent arguments with her brothers, and there were a few times when she asked, " Why can't I go?  But she was a reasonable child with a great personality and a very tender heart. I didn't go through what some of my friends did--I didn't have problems with her as far as drugs, alcohol, and boys were concerned. Nope, she was pretty much perfect, and she still is--in my opinion. She's beautiful and super smart; she's got a fantastic, exuberant personality; she doesn't shy away from problems; she's a great mom, and, in fact, has so much more going for her than I ever did. I think that's the part she gets from her dad. She's always smiling, laughing, and always ready to lend a hand, and I am so impressed with her that it makes my heart truly swell with pride. I look at her, and I am so thankful and grateful, and I still stand and watch her in amazement.  That's my daughter? How did I get so lucky? What did I ever do to deserve a daughter like her? I'm glad that I only have one--I can gush over her all I want to. We are the closest of friends, we talk a lot on the phone, text, and visit as much as possible. I feel blessed beyond measure. And I love her so much.

When I grow up, I want to be just like her — my daughter. Happy birthday! I love you!