The Almost Birthday Letter

Dear Alexis,

Seven. It's not here just yet, but it's knocking on your door. I'm a little sad about it, but only because Six looks so damn good on you. I'm going to do all that I can to enjoy the last two days of you wearing Six with pride. They are going to be a chaotic couple of days, but definitely fun.

There are a lot of things that I want to say to you ... too many things. The words get jumbled and stuck and won't come out. It's just that you're an amazing person. I'm not sure how that happened, but I'm glad it did. You've become the person who will suddenly stop, look around the room, and spend the rest of the day trying to make that place better. Sometimes you do it with artwork, other times with song, but often you do it through kindness. You know when people need to hear something smart, or something funny, or something kind. It's an instinct for you. You use that instinct to drop Alexis Joy-Bombs all over the place.

Thanks for that.

Six was the year that your feet still didn't grow, but your hair finally did. Six was the year that you hated your curly hair, but told me often that your smile was your favorite thing about yourself. Six was the year that you started to worry about what others thought of you, but it was also the year that you really started to understand that it's OK to blaze your own trail. You found your style with Six, and spent much of your time preoccupied with perfecting that style. (Dude. You cried real tears when I told you 77 Kids had closed. THAT is how much you care about having cute clothes.)

I expect none of that to change any time soon, but I'm really not sure what a six-year old with the style sense of a 15-year old is going to do next. Where is up from there? Are you going to try on Emo for a few months while you're in second grade?

It's cool if you decide to do that, by the way. Just no nose piercings, mmkay?

I could go on and on and on about how much I adore everything about you, but I think I can sum it up with one photograph. It's an old one -- you were just three weeks old when it was taken.

Some day you'll have to ask me to tell you the 2459325098 ways that photo of you at three weeks so completely captured the girl you've become. I'll start with a few adjectives like "strong" and "thoughtful" and go from there.

I love you, kid. Now, let's start getting ready to throw the best birthday party ever.

Love,

That Lady Who Is Still Waiting For You To Learn To Enjoy Sleep

No Clue How I Got This Lucky

There's A Thing that happens every year around this time. It's That Thing I don't talk about because the last time I did, the curse was continued in a very big way. And then a bigger way. And then an even bigger way.

So I'm not saying anything about That Thing, but I am saying the curse is alive and well.

$1000 for a new clutch for the husband's car. If that doesn't prove I'm not crazy, I don't know what does. Happy Wednesday to me!

Anyway.

Alexis never has and likely never will fully appreciate my hesitancy to acknowledge That Thing. She wants to throw confetti and lead a parade and generally tries very hard to make a very big deal out of every second of the day.

I humor her. It's the right thing to do.

But sometimes I don't have to humor her because sometimes she blows me away with just how fantastic of a kid she is. And she is.

I don't care if you've already seen this photo (I put it on Twitter and Facebook already), it's worth another look. Also, I need it here so that in eight years or so, I can show it to her when she tells me that I'm a stupid doodoo head.

Never change, kid. Never change.

The Scars of Disappointment Run Deep

Sometimes it's surreal how much I end up talking to myself, but it should be noted that the reflection of me is about four-feet tall and has curly brown hair. Alexis doesn't look like me at all, but don't be fooled. Her mind most definitely works like mine does. More notably, I'm relatively certain she ripped out a piece of my heart when she was in the womb and now uses that piece as her own heart.

There is no doubt that she is mine. She is my mental and emotional clone. She has my personality and then some.

But.

But, as we near her seventh birthday, it is becoming more and more clear that she is travelling a very different path than I did. She bears the scars of experience, but her scars are superficial. Mine went all the way to the bone. She doesn't know what she doesn't know and sometimes I wonder, is that OK?

When we wander through a store or the mall or wherever, she is full of "Can I?" "May I?" and "PLEEEEASE?" She wants everything she sees, to the point that I say no without even knowing what the rest of her question will be. She is spoiled, and that is our fault, but is it really a problem that she doesn't know the disappointment that is a Christmas without gifts or an evening without dinner?

She's never gone hungry, never had to wear the same shirt three times in one week, and she certainly hasn't ever been left to fend for herself in the midst of poverty-filled trailer park. Her biggest tragedy right now is that she really wants a new suitcase and her super-mean parents won't let her use her own money to buy one (just yet). Little does she know how very fortunate she is to have somewhere to go. She has been on more vacations during her 6 years and 360 days of life than I took in my first 25 years of life.

She doesn't know.

And I'm not entirely sure it's a bad thing. Or even a good thing.

She's travelling a different path.