There are times when I am absolutely exhausted just from looking at you. You are capable of going a hundred and seventeen miles per hour for eleven hours straight and I just don’t know how to keep up with that. You are way too smart for your own good and you have your dad’s courtroom arguing and logic skills. You are capable of asking more questions within the first five minutes of you walking in the door than I would be capable of asking everyone I know in a single day.
It’s really hard to be your mom right now.
Not because you’re naughty or a bad kid, because you’re certainly not. It’s because you’re developing into this person, capable of asking really hard questions and expecting really in depth answers. You’re straddling this phase between make believe and making sense of everything around you. You still believe in Santa but you also know the Santas in the mall are fake.
I was talking about you with Vivi the other day (Vivi is an incredibly good listener) and I came to the conclusion that maybe you’ve just seen too much to be amazed by much of anything anymore. We’ve had the opportunity to do things that I never got to do as a kid. I have a feeling I could take you to the Great Salt Lake and you’d say “Forget the biggest salt water lake, let’s go to Africa to see Lake Malawi, there’s species of fish in that lake that don’t exist anywhere else in the world.”
Your birthday last year was possibly the hardest day I have ever had as your mom. I was on the cusp of my own nervous breakdown and you were on a birthday power trip that was mostly my fault. Birthdays are an enormous deal to me and I always want you to feel special on yours, but for some reason the system broke down last year and we both ended the night in tears.
I love that in your mind nothing is impossible, everything is attainable and the world is one giant place to ask questions about. I have faith that you are learning things that are going to serve you well throughout your entire life. You are an incredibly good person. Kind hearted, empathetic and optimistic. I never want to squelch that. Having this baby and these two cats around has only proved that your capacity to love is endless.
I sometimes feel as though you are a better big sister than I am a mom. Vivi doesn’t need peace and quiet, she lives for the moment you walk through the door and run around squealing like a feral animal. Her life is going to be so blessed because she has you as a big sister. I’d like to think that the six uninterrupted years we spent together are what helped mold you into the spectacular big sister you are today.
I’m never going to stop trying to amaze you. My mom took me places and showed me things I never would have seen otherwise and I am eternally grateful for that. I can only imagine that after driving for hours to get us to Mt. Rushmore and finally being able to show us those four presidents carved from a mountainside my sister and I took one look at it and said “What’s next?”
It was worth it mom. Everything you did and showed us was worth it. I remember all of it. The Church in Sedona, picking out rocks at the Crazy Horse Monument, being highly disappointed there were no dead horses at Dead Horse Point, being equally disappointed there was no water at the Grand Canyon, finding sand dollars in Washington, that enormous museum in British Columbia, Lombard Street in San Francisco, the hikes in Arches, the drive around the White Rim…I treasure everything you took us to see on your own and hope that someday Addie will appreciate everything I try to do for her, especially when the only reaction I get now is “I’m thirsty.”