Ancient History

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14 hours into this mother-of-a-teen thing, and it’s fine

If I had a baby girl on this day in 1997, she must be 13.

I carried her in my body for almost 42 weeks.


I nursed her as a newborn. I watched her blossom into a gorgeous, bubbly blue-eyed baby. I tried to wrap my mind around her toddler tantrums and antics and managed to get her through those years unscathed.



I watched her write her name as a preschooler. I dropped her off at school on her first day of Kindergarten. She read thicker and thicker books and completed math problems with increasingly high numbers—without my help.



She grew taller, lovelier, wiser.



She is still growing in that direction, up and eventually away. That’s the goal, right? For our children to be independent, self-sufficient, productive, good, and on their own.


She’s entering the last official stage of childhood with an eye on the future. She is optimistic and proud, but she is also realistic. During dinner on a recent night, she told the boys there may be days ahead when she is very crabby and days when she is happy.

It’s normal, she said.

I laughed from the kitchen, amazed by her self-awareness. Or perhaps she’s been reading The Care and Keeping of You again? Either way, she still delights me in the same way she delighted me as a hammy preschooler. She’s still cute. She’s still my girl.

It’s time for the teens around here, ready or not.


Happy 13th Birthday to our Aidan Elizabeth.

23 comments to 14 hours into this mother-of-a-teen thing, and it’s fine

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