Thirteen

Dearest Daughter: 

A day or so ago, when we talked about how to celebrate your 13th birthday, you told me this: 

You:  I don't want a party.

Me: What?  How could that be?  This is a big year for you. 

You:  No it's not.  Sweet 16 is the big one

Me:  What do you mean, Sweet 16?

You:  You know, the year you get the biggest birthday party of your life?

Me:  No, I don't think I knew about that.

You:  You don't know anything, Mom. 

And that about sums up where we are right now...

I don't really mind if you think this though, because I am confident that I do know a few things about a few things--like being 13, for instance.  

I know that as you move into your teens, you are a pure and beautiful study of opposites.  Happy/sad, mad/loving, confident/uncertain, independent/defenseless, pushing/pulling, stressed/carefree, social/private all wrapped into sometimes the same day.  (OK, you're not actually uncertain very often.  You're too stubborn to be uncertain.)   

I know I primally *get* you in ways I've never understood anyone else, so your shifts don't really vex me.  At the same time, there are times you can turn on my mad switch quicker than lead sinks.  

I know you are getting sassier, to be sure.  Some days, that's cause for a warning; other days, I'm privately proud that you are standing strong for something you want or believe in.  

I know your friends, of course, are your axis.  Music, social networking, horseback riding, swimming, and cupcakes turn your gears.  

I know that the more I try to share with you, the more you deny me. No shopping together anymore.  No reading books together.  You received a cell phone this past Christmas, and told me not to text you.  "That's weird, Mom." 


I know that despite all your rebuffs, I won't be so weird someday (well, not weird in the same ways that I am now).  We are inextricably connected by so many common qualities and conditions.  As my first born, you paved the parenting path for me and forced me come up with answers for a gazillion questions.  And as the little person you are today, you've reminded me of the joyfulness of being happy/sad, mad/loving, confident/uncertain, independent/defenseless, pushing/pulling, stressed/carefree, social/private all wrapped into one perfect package.  

So I guess we'll keep you for another year.  



Love ya!  Kiss, kiss. 
Mom

P.S.  Dad says that he hopes your taste in music improves.  

P.S.S.  This year was also the year of the "horse."  I remind you of this so that in years to come, you can think back and remember what a debacle that was.  I hope you laugh.