The Diva Turns Twelve

I started a tradition of writing a letter to each of the kids on their birthday, starting with their first.  And then life happened and I got off track.  This is the first I’ve put on the blog. She’ll either love it or it’ll give her something to talk about in therapy.

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I knew it was coming; it was just a matter of when.  

At Hey Sugar in downtown Waco

Years of planning those friggin’ themed birthday parties.  Gag.  Little hats, matchy-matchy napkins and plates, glitter, pink, princesses and one year, that damn purple dinosaur.  How I loathed Barney.  And don’t even talk to me about Dora and her annoying backpack.  Trust me, if all life’s answers could be found in a backpack, I’d be toting one of those puppies.

The Diva and my mother, the kicker of cancer’s ass

And now those days are past me because ‘parties are for babies’.  I’m torn between a fist pump accompanied by an unladylike whoop and a bit of misty eyed nostalgia.  *sniff*

That first taste of a Health Camp shake

She’s been working on the whole tween thing, perfecting the eyeball roll, the derisive sneer for anything harboring a whiff of uncool and ‘Mom’ delivered in that tone that all girls eventually master that effectively conveys all your idiocy and unhipness in a flowing rhythm of syllables.  How the hell do they do that?  It’s a gift I suppose.


She decided on a birthday meal at a local burger joint that’s been around since 1948.  For this child, anything from the 80s is retro.  I, a product of 1974, thankyouverymuch, am practically an antique to her.  She once asked me when we got color television.  The snark is strong with this one.


But as I sat across the table from her and watched her take that first bite of a Health Camp shake, it occurred to me I haven’t said goodbye to my baby, I’m just saying hello to the awesome young woman she’s becoming.

And so I sit here in the middle of Barnes and Noble, tears streaming down my face as I write this post.  For the longest I’ve viewed motherhood as a series of goodbyes.  What an idiot.  

The Diva and His Awesomeness

There are so many more hellos to be had.  You’ll rock some of them.  Some of them will rock you.  But I watch you and I see you.  All you are, all you’ll be.  

I love you, P.

Love, Mama

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