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my annual birthday post ... two months late
dearest susanna,
most days, my life begins and ends with your warm little
body curled up next to mine. each morning,
you climb into bed with me and we chat about the day ahead: if there’s
anything important going on at school; what you plan to do during recess; what’s on tap for the afternoon once i pick
you up. and then we realize how late the
time has gotten, and one of us will count down from 10 to the moment where we
both have to force ourselves to put our feet on the floor and part ways. and then, thirteen or so hours later, i find
myself back in bed with you – this time yours – snuggling again as we recap the
day that is slowly coming to a close. you
tell me what was funny, or stressful, or perplexing while you navigated your
world, and i try to answer your questions when you ask them and keep my mouth
shut and just listen when you don’t.
i have to admit that there are some days when i’m exhausted and
the kitchen still needs to be cleaned and laundry is waiting to be folded and there
are high school math tests to be graded … in short, a myriad of reasons why i should
simply kiss you good night and close the door.
but then i think of all those nights when you used to request me to rock you in the glider while singing “oh susanna”, and how those are but a distant
memory … and i realize that much too soon, you won’t be wanting me like
you do right now. and so when those six words
come from your lips – “mommy, will you snuggle with me?” – i realize that there’s
really nothing i’d rather do. and i crawl
into your double bed and nestle myself next to you, marveling at how blessed i am
to have you as my child.
you are just that – a blessing. every day, virtually every moment. i feel privileged to witness the
relationships you’ve formed and continue to grow, whether it’s with your
brother, or your grandparents, or your friends.
and goodness gracious, do you have a lot of those! you seem
to make friends without any effort at all – kids just gravitate to you like a
magnet. case in point: i walked in to pick you up from
art camp the other day, to find another mother bent down to you with her phone
in her hand. “i was just getting y’all’s
phone number from susanna,” the mom explained after introducing herself. “my daughter has talked non-stop about her new friend susanna all week and i’d love to get them together to play!” on our way home, i asked you how you do
it. i still would describe you as
someone who’s sort of on the more reserved side (we try not to use the word “shy”)
… so it’s interesting to me how quickly you make connections with people. “i don’t know,” you shrugged from the back
seat. “i just like people, and i guess
they like me too.”
the three amigas -- maggie, you, and lily, during one of your epic two-day sleepover playdates. unfortunately you had to say goodbye to maggie as she moved to iowa in june ... one of the first truly difficult experiences of your life, i think
this year i’ve watched you start a new school – much to your
dismay – and, thankfully, fall in love with it.
i’ve watched you continue to grow your talents in piano,dance, art, and
singing. you’ve taken up drama with a
new passion as well, starring as both pastry peddler #3 and fish #16 in your
first real stage production of aladdin, so much that your career aspiration is now acting.
(funny story: as we walked through the salad bar section of harris
teeter the other week, you looked up and in all seriousness said, “i'm so glad i’m
going to be a famous actress. that way i
will make lots of money and can spend half of it on olives.”)
i'm keeping the playbill for when you become known worldwide, so we can sell it on ebay
you still much prefer jazz to ballet, and enjoy choreographing your own routines at home for dance videos you make with your friends
you are also quite brilliant, in case you didn’t realize it –
and, as humble as you are, you probably don’t.
you’re a voracious reader, devouring just about any book you can get a
hold of, including your latest conquests of the hobbit and the fifth harry
potter. you whiz through your math
assignments, produce impressive stories, and have a knack for remembering
random science and history facts. and last
week at the beach, you picked up a book of adult-level logic puzzles (you know,
the ones with a story and like six clues and a huge set of grids to mark up in
order to solve.) with just about no
instruction from me, you emerged from your beach chair a half-hour later,
having successfully solved one – and without even using a whole section of the
grid. (i still don’t know how you did
it.)
seems the west coast got to your head -- sipping on a shirley temple in san francisco
there are certainly things you hate. brushing your hair, for one. (will there come a day that i don’t have to
remind you – or that you know where your hairbrush is?) you’re still not keen on most vegetables,
save for olives, of course. and you're just not a huge fan of wonder, or any dog -- despite her undying devotion to you.
you think that wonder wanted to share the spotlight; i know that she just loves being near you
but those are small blips on the radar screen of an absolutely gloriously wonderful girl. you are loving, and kind, and creative, and funny, and interested in nature and history and science and the world. you are someone people absolutely love to be around.
especially me. at 6:45
a.m. in my bed, at 8:30 p.m. in yours … and any minute in between when i’m
privileged enough to have the opportunity.
i love you so so much, susanna. we all do.
you’re nine! and quite
divine. and, thanks be to God, you’re mine.
infinity squared,
mommy
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