My little love

My girl,

Yesterday you turned ten. Holy cow. I can’t believe we both have survived.

You were such an easy baby. Lord knows I couldn’t have handled a hard one. Sleep and smile. Smile and sleep. That was pretty much all you did. Even when I stuffed you in this uncomfortable looking outfit, you were as content as a clam (or what looks like a starfish in this particular picture).

I’ve always joked that from even a young age (like 3) you had better parenting skills than I did. I’ll never forget that time I strapped you in the back seat to take you to day care on a cold winter morning and as I was scrambling to buckle you in - all those straps and the layers and layers of clothes – your little voice sang out ‘don’t I need shoes mom’ – my God, yes, my child you need shoes! How did I forget shoes?

Or the time I got a call from the counselor at the Spanish camp I helped organize (I so badly wanted you to learn to appreciate different cultures and customs, languages and lifestyles from as early an age as possible) asking if I had, in fact, meant to send croutons as your lunch. I did. I desperately needed to get to the store. You are a picky eater. And you love croutons. This is a problem, why?

I have not been a typical mom, but you are not a typical kid.

You are moonbeams and magic. You are sparkle and sass. You are all things good in this heavy, hard world.

You are so easy to love. So socially astute. Intelligent and articulate. What other 6-year-old asks if they are reading with fluency!? Yes, little love, you were. You are fluent in so many things. In daydreams, in nighttalks, heartstrings, and soulsongs.

You have a photographer’s eye, a detective’s ear, and a resilient radiant little/big heart.

I finally pulled out the old jar of notes I gathered recording some funny thing you said or did. A Pinterest idea that I had started back when I was still trying so hard to get it all right.

I loved lying in bed laughing over some of our favorites last night:

10/15/12 Olivia wakes up and it is dark outside. She asks, “Why is the sun not working?”

9/9 First Browns Game of Season and Browns get an interception. I say to Liv, “They couldn’t’ have done it without you cheering. Thank you!” Her response, “It’s ok. I love orange.”

3/22/13 “I didn’t take a nap today. I just sat very very quietly.”

11/03 Notre Dame vs Pitt 3rd Overtime: Liv hears Joe screaming in basement and says, “Mom – go help him. He needs you.”

11/08/13 – “Mommy, bow when you talk to me.”

4/9/14 I hear a picture frame falling off the hallway foyer table and breaking

Me: “How did this happen” Liv: “I tried to think of a faster way for my piggie to get downstairs.” Me: “What lesson did we learn?” Liv: “I don’t know.”

Me: “Not to throw things in the house.” Liv: “Mommy, can I please help you clean it up since I made the mess.” Me: “I love you.”

07/25/15 My sister and her husband were living with us at the time and my dad and stepmom were also staying with us as they were visiting from Florida. Olivia says, “Why are all these people sharing my bathroom.”

What I’m learning is that our ‘right’ so full of ‘wrongs’ is just perfect for us.

This reminds me of the time I tried to ‘fit in’ and make small talk with another mom at your school skating party. We were both standing at the rink wall - me in my yoga pants and knees highs, hair thrown in a top knot, and without a doubt dressed for the wrong season. She in her perfectly put together corporate getup. After a few minutes, she asks, “Which one is yours?” I glance up and there you are - totally immersed in your own little world of color and light and music – skating in the opposite direction of every other child on that floor. I couldn’t have been more proud. “That one,” I say. “The one going against the grain.” I hope you never lose that. That ability to do you – with abandon, with elation, with style.

Ours is a relationship of banter in lieu of bake sales (I literally started snort laughing the other night when you called me on my failure to move our elf for four days straight). I don’t pack you apples for your lunch, but I’m happy to drive you to the big one to experience your first Broadway shows on actual Broadway. We don’t sled, but we do often ‘sing’ our conversations to one another.

It’s you and me Little Lou.

I hope you never stop looking at me like the way you are looking at me in this picture. With admiration, with joy, with love. I can’t begin to list all the lovely things I think when I look at you.