A Letter to My Daughter on her 14th Birthday

To My Darling Girl,

Welcome to the world, little one!  After 10 hours of induced labor, 10 minutes of pushing, one stuck baby, two nurses pushing on my stomach, and the doctor yanking you out of me, you are finally here!

I am so happy to meet you, my love.  You are snuggled into my right arm while I type one handed, your schooshie face scrunched up and your eyes squeezed shut as if to open them would be to face the fact that you are outside of me, ready to take on this big world.

Today you are 14, my angel.  Your entire life is stretching before you.  I have such hopes for you.  I hope you are creative and brave enough to follow that creativity.  I hope you realize that failure is an opportunity in disguise -- it's a chance to do better, to be better.  I hope you try again and again and again... even if you never get it right.  Perfection is not possible.

 I hope you have adventures.  Not the sneaking out of the house to see if you can adventures.  But the type of adventures that help you learn who you are as a person and grow into a better human being.  And I hope that you can make adventures out of an ordinary day. 

I hope you can laugh at yourself and I hope you don't let other people laugh at you.  I hope you stand up for yourself.  I hope you are strong enough to tell your friends when they are wrong, to think outside the box, and that you can be nice to yourself. 

I hope you can go with the flow in a way that I never can.  I hope you can adapt when possible.  I hope you can stand firm when necessary.  I hope you know which battles are worth fighting and which ones are ridiculous.

I hope you are a good sister -- strong and caring, but not afraid to call your sisters and brother on their bulls@#$.  I hope you love your sisters and brothers and I hope you know that you are just as loved and just as important to me as they are.

And I hope and pray that if you have trouble believing or doing anything that I hope for you, you can come to me.  I will help you believe it.  I will help you do it.  Why?  Because I love you.  Because I believe you are capable of great things and ordinary things -- capable of anything you choose to do.  Life is not to be lived alone --  you have a family who loves you so very, very, very much.  And we are always here for you.

You only have one life, my love.  And now you get to decide how to live it.  I hope you make it a great one.

I hope you know that you are a wonder.  You are amazing.  You are fabulous.  You are an individual.  You are strong.  I hope you know that I love you.

You can talk to me about anything.

I love you,

Mom

I am not a crazy person. I swear.

Dear Everyone at the Brea Farmer's Market on Tuesday at 4:13 pm:

I am sorry for frightening you. I did see some of the looks as I ran past, screaming "Red light, red light, red light" at the top of my lungs while pushing a baby in a stroller and dragging a four year old behind me.

To explain, I was chasing my son, who was headed straight into oncoming traffic. And "red light" is our code for STOP RIGHT NOW OR YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE IT'S NOT EVEN FUNNY!

Perhaps I should have been shouting STOP RIGHT NOW OR YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE IT'S NOT EVEN FUNNY! Perhaps that would have terrified you less. You may have chuckled and gone about your day. Perhaps one of you would have caught the 47 pound blur that is my son. And I'm fairly certain that if I had been shouting STOP RIGHT NOW OR YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE IT'S NOT EVEN FUNNY, about half of you would have come up to me to tell me that

A. It gets easier.

B. I should spank him.

C. I have my hands full; or,

D. I'm a horrible mother and you are calling Child Protective Services. Right now.

I just wanted you to know that I am not a crazy person who habitually runs around screaming "RED LIGHT" at the top of her lungs. I only do it about once a day. But you see, there is a reason I do it. I have a three year old who is determined to kill himself.

Don't get me wrong; if I was a crazy person, I would probably still run around screaming "Red light." But I wouldn't have an acceptable excuse.

Kindly,

Shannon