To my dear baby girl, on your eigth birthday.

Dearest Girl,

I tucked you in again just before I sat down to write, as if to squeeze just a couple more minutes of your seven-ness in. You were wildly outstretched in your big bed, all long lanky arms & legs. I kissed you on the forehead and you smelled like strawberries and coconut lip gloss. You had glitter on your lips and a million freckles on your cute nose, and I had to sit and look at you for a while. I can’t help but miss your infancy, but from the day you were born I’ve felt like the luckiest mom in the world.

You were born on a Sunday night, thankfully past the first of April (I had begged you to stay in one more day, thinking of you forever having to endure April Fool jokes on your special day.) and you came into our family peacefully and quickly. You were born at 9:34 PM, and I spent the rest of the night just marveling at your perfection. You had the longest thinnest feet, and the longest little fingers. Perfect little bow tie lips and ears so pink and tiny they resembled seashells. I am still certain I won the baby jackpot.

So as I tuck you in tonight, this last night of your seventh year, I’m struck at the differences at first, then the similarities. Your feet are so long now too…but so BIG! I have to look at both of them after being shocked at seeing the first. Gone are the chubby little baby feet we used to play “This Little Piggy” with. They’ve grown so much since the first time I saw them, and again I’m a little sad. It’s all gone by so quickly, and it’s all been so wonderful.

I pull your covers up and you half smile at me… you’re such a sweet sweet girl. You write me the nicest notes, and you’re so thoughtful of everyone. Your first thought when you have extra of anything is of how you can divide it amongst the people around you. You never think about keeping everything for yourself, you generally give more away than you get to keep. I am so proud of the girl you are, and so confident of the woman I know you’re growing to be.

You still have that same gorgeous red hair that grew in like a fiery display of what-was-to-come when you were 7 months old. Your eyebrows still get red when you get mad. You make every single day better in the lives of everyone who knows you, and the world is a better place because you love everyone so thoroughly.

So I write to say Happy Birthday, My Sweet Ruby Rooster, on your 8th birthday. Though its bittersweet to watch you grow up, it’s such an unending joy to be your mom that I forget just how fast time flies! I know I flubbed your birthday verses & poems tonight, but alas, your mom is a crybaby, and I could just about guarantee that I’ll cry a little each year you grow older 🙂 Have a wonderful, fantastic, marvelous, spectacular birthday, I love you so much! xo Mom


Sock mating is serious business.

I say this because I live with a sock renegade.

I pride myself on my lovely little offspring heading off into their day with the right foot forward, in a pair of clean matching socks! Putting the wrong socks together is unacceptable and it drives me insane. It leaves two homeless socks in my sock basket, potentially forever without their rightful mate. Now don’t get me wrong, I’d just as soon throw them away than wait for the other to return.

So I might just throw them all away, and my family will probably flip out when they only have 3 pairs of socks to their names.

But hey… at least they’d match 🙂