Baby Girl (Not A Baby Anymore)

Eleven years ago on a cold and windy March night, a doctor handed me a tiny bundle. So tiny that regular diapers wouldn't fit on this 6 pound, 1 ounce bundle. So little and delicate. She looked like a china doll. Except for the long, black hair that when it was freshly washed would stand straight up all over her head. I was enthralled with that hair. Having grown up a blonde I was always fascinated by people with dark, ebony hair. I kept taking her hat off to marvel and run my fingers through it and the nurses would come in and see her hat off and get mad at me. She was so small that she had a hard time keeping herself warm. They kept taking her from her rightful place in my arms to put under heat lamps. They would tape cotton balls to her butterfly eyelids and place a metallic sticker in the shape of a heart on her chest that would measure her temperature. I would fret and worry while she was gone because being her mother, I was the only one in the world who knew exactly what she needed.

When we left the hospital, the nurses peeled the temperature sticker off of her chest and most of her skin came off with it so for one month she had a perfectly formed heart-shaped scab on her.  When the scab fell off it left a heart shaped scar that I used to kiss every time I changed her. That scar has since faded and is no more but, the memory of that heart-shaped scar is written on my heart and though she is now to old for it, I wish I could just kiss her where it used to be and make her my baby again.

Eleven years have passed since the scar kissing days and although I miss dearly the little girl who used to let me put bows in her hair, dress her in mary-janes and fluffy dresses, watch Disney Princess shows with, I am amazed and having so much fun getting to know the young woman she is becoming. She is the most determined person I know. Two years ago she wanted to learn to do a cart-wheel and for days she stayed out on the front lawn trying, trying and trying to do a cart-wheel. Finally, after sprained wrists, twisted knees, scraped elbows, she got it.

On Wednesday we had her party and we handed her presents of books and clothes (I kept the bike hidden). After she opened her last present I said, "Well, that's it!" This is the look she gave me.



"Mo-om... What about my bike?" she said.
"What bike?" I replied.
"The bike I asked for. The only thing I wanted for my birthday. A beach cruiser."
"A beach cruiser?" I asked. "I thought you said a beach pooser. You know, something you use to scrape poo off of the beach and I thought if that's what she wants, than a beach pooser it is!"
She didn't think I was too funny, however, my boys were cracking up. The bike was stashed by the washing machine and I sent her down the hall to get something for me. The first time she went down the hall, she walked right by it. The second time, it caught her eye. This is the look I got after she saw it.

Much happier. Just a side note. If you want to see how sibling dynamics work in my home, this picture is perfect. It's Ashlenne's moment but Aidan can't resist letting her have the attention so he strikes a pose next to her. Alexander is oblivious to what's going on and is in his own pre-teen world.

Here she is taking off into the world while I run behind trying to capture the moment and hang on to it forever.

Happy Birthday Baby Girl!