My darling girl,
Unlike all your previous years, I am not writing you after tucking you in bed or snuggling with you. You are with your dad on this birthday eve and, for the first time, I am not going to be walking into your room in the morning to sing you Happy Birthday because you'll be at his apartment. As a sentimental mama, there is a sting in that that brings a lump to my throat. But then, I'm often sentimental when it comes to being a mom.
A whole year has gone by since I wrote in your blog. While I didn't intend to stop writing, it sort of naturally happened, given that you don't change from week to week like you did. But you have changed so much since last year, as I think back on what 13 has been for you.
This has been another hard year in a very different way from 12. You have navigated going from mom's home to dad's home every couple of weeks with so much grace. I know the transition is hard, and I imagine you have a lot more feelings about it than you let on. I have no way to relate or words of wisdom to give you; it's been one of the challenges in parenting this year since you are experiencing something I have no concept of. On the outside, you seem to take it all in stride.
But something I've learned about you this year is that while you have a tough exterior - you call it a mask - you hold a lot inside. That, I can certainly identify with. This year, you've put on a brave face at school, in plays, and around family, but I know that inside you've been hurting. You've still had a hard time finding anyone at school who clicks with you. You like your teachers and the learning environment, but you miss your friends from public school and the diversity of that setting. You've distanced from old friends. This makes sense since you don't see them at school, and we haven't made much time to get together. But I worry that your community is getting too small. I am hoping that high school brings more opportunity to get with like-minded folks who you can really connect with.
I suppose it's a mother's job to worry, like I do about your social connections, but it's also her job to be proud, and, kid, I couldn't be prouder of you. While going through all this social life (or lack thereof), you got cast in a show at the only theatre in Memphis that pays its actors, making you a professional actor at the age of 13! You were an amazing Mayor of Munchkin city, plus all of your other parts in the ensemble. You lit up that stage for 16 performances and got a taste of what professional theatre is like. You appreciated the kindness and, well, professionalism of the cast, crew, and creative staff, and I'd say it was a very positive experience for you.
You also nailed your role as FDR in "Annie" at school; you absolutely stole the show. I heard people in the audience say, when the curtain came down, how much they loved FDR. You also earned your spot front and center in the ensemble NY number. Your natural talent for dance and your years of experience make you a perfect fit to be at the head of dance numbers.
You basically single-handedly wrote and defended your bill for Youth Legislature. You got fantastic grades this year. You volunteered to help in the office at school when you finished your homework. You continue to help out in the nursery at church to get the twins under control. You act as a big sister to Lydia, cat mom to Cotto, and I've come to lean on you myself to help out around the house. I see you growing in knowledge and responsibility.
This past week has been a hard one for you, and we've been struggling together to figure out why. You've said you can't believe you're going to be 14 and that you don't want to grow up. Addie and Will have said this too and it's interesting to me that your generation is anti-maturing. It's like you guys have been hearing your Gen X and Millenial parents complain about being adults and you've understood that childhood is where it's at. But time marches on. And tomorrow, you will, indeed, be 14. And in the fall, you'll be a high school freshman.
I feel like you are on the cusp of something - more than just high school. I feel like your self-awareness and self-identity is about to blossom. So let me offer something that I've never done before in these birthday letters; let's look forward more and not look back. My hope is that when I write your "Last Day as a Fourteen Year Old" letter that I can say, you have spent the year learning to hold space for both making mistakes and seeing your own value. That you feel like you are a part of a group. That you are proud of yourself most days and that you speak to yourself with kindness most of the time. That you took chances on new experiences, accepted failures when they happened, and found a couple of new parts of yourself.
You are such a kind, caring soul. You feel responsibility for so many people around you. My wish for you is to treat yourself as well as you treat everyone else. As you navigate this very tough transition from child to teen, I cherish the moments we snuggle on the couch, add new flowers to our gardens, laugh over card games, roll our eyes at the animals' antics, share a hug in the kitchen while you make mac and cheese, hunt together for the perfect bargain store t-shirt, sing to the radio in the car, wash your hair in the kitchen sink, and learn more about each other during our chats. You continue to be the greatest blessing, the joy of my life. I love you more than you can possibly know right now at nearly 14, but one day you will know.
All of my love,
Mama
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