Kelly: The First Decade

Tomorrow you will turn 10 years old. You entered the world at 11:16am on June 29, 1999. And I became a mom.

I remember what an easy baby you were. Who needs all these “What to Expect” books? It’s so easy. She sleeps, she cuddles, she eats, she burps, etc. What’s so difficult about being a parent (I would learn, a whole lot is difficult about being a parent sometimes).

10 years of watching you grow. You started out this very delicate, porcelain-like infant that grew into a toddler with fiery red hair and blue eyes. You then morphed into a preschooler with auburn hair and hazel eyes. Now your hair shines a million different colors in the sunlight and your eyes are a warm brown.

Last week you lay down on the pediatrician’s table and I realized that you are inches from having your feet hang over the edge. Wow, when did that happen? I remember you being so tiny that they’d lay you on the table and mark your length on the paper, in inches.

10 years of wondering if I’m making the right choices. 10 years of being the one who decided when to call the doctor, send a note to a teacher, or restrain the motherly urge to fix everything in your world. I thought I would know so much more by now.

For 10 years, you’ve been along for the ride on every major decision I’ve made. The horrible decisions that occurred before you were even 2 years old. Not what I had planned for my innocent little girls-how I wanted to protect you from all of that. You’ve never known what it’s like to live in a world with mom and dad under the same roof. Never known what it’s like to have dad living in the same house, city, or even state. It’s just never been part of your world. Weekly phone calls, birthday cards, and visits to Texas and Michigan are part of your world. You take it all in stride. Always excited for whatever is offered to you. I’ve never heard you complain.

10 years of moves. Wisconsin to Michigan at 7 weeks of age. Michigan to Indiana in a whirlwind at 23 months of age. Indiana to Tennessee at 5 years of age. From the suburbs to downtown and back again. You’ve trusted and been excited for each adventure. Your only complaint has been that you’d like a room of your own…still working on that one. You’ve been the new kid and have blended in with a variety of groups. You have a knack for picking some of the best friends around, and people have genuinely loved having you around.

In the past 10 years, you’ve gone from having only “2 lows to share” in our dinner time game of sharing 1 High and 1 Low of our day to having nothing but giggles and highs to share. You’re walking taller these days. It’s fun to watch. Fun to see you try new attitudes and personas on for size. I love who you are and who you are becoming.

In the past 10 years, I’ve watched you go from a brief stint as an only-child, to a toddler big sister, to a preschooler who just wanted her little sister to stop breaking her things, to a big sister who loves and protects her little sister. Tatum adores you.

You have every right to hold it against Tatum that she broke the heads off every single thin-necked Disney princess crayon when you were 4 years old, but you don’t (all the Jasmine and Ariel crayons with their thick, flowing hair survived, it was a bad day for Disney princesses with up-dos like Cinderella and Belle).

You are the reason that Tatum knows what it’s like to have a friend. For the last 8 ½ years, you have been her primary, and sometimes only, playmate. She knows what it’s like to play Littlest Petshops and dress up and have tea parties because you’ve had the patience to tough it out with a little sister who has autism.

It’s weird to think that I don’t have another 10 years with you as a child. I can’t wrap my mind around that. In another 10 years, you’ll be the age I was when I was married. When I think about what’s ahead, I’m not even sure how it works. I always pictured myself as a mom with little kids, not a mom with a tween or a teenager. It’s bizarre to think I’m closer to the driving and dating days than to the diapers days.

There are lots of moments I want to steal back of your 1st 10 years. Some of the times are a blur with me working fulltime, 2 little kids on my own, going back to school. But I’m glad for the memories I have. Steamers in the coffee shops while discussing great (or not so great) works of art that hung on the walls. Watching you smile and laugh for the first time. Watching those first steps. Hearing you speak 1 word then start to string multiple words together. First days of school. You being bitten by the reading bug and begin to devour books.

But it will arrive. It will go by much like the last 10 years have. There’s a line from the movie Finding Neverland where the author of Peter Pan says, “Little boys should never be forced to go to bed because they always wake up a day older.” I’m a little sad to see you climb into bed each night.

Happy 10th birthday, Kelly. As melancholy as I am about seeing my first decade as a parent come to an end, I’m so excited about what the next season holds for me as a parent and for you as an individual. Thanks for letting me fail as a parent with you and still giving me another chance. Thanks for being patient as I figured out which end of our world was right side up. Thanks for bouncing with the ups and downs of our world the past 10 years. Thanks for all of the kisses and hugs and cuddles.

Thanks for a great 10 years, Kelly Dakota.