Today #2 is finally 15. She can officially get her driver's permit. Because, up until now, she has been driving unofficially. A lot. For long distances. With my sister.
All mothers metaphorically move mountains for their kids. It's just what we do. But this girl? This very vibrant and unique girl? Her mountains just keep coming. And I work and work to move and lift and ease. And my arms and mother heart feel exhausted. Sometimes she even stands fast on top of the mountain just to make it that much harder to move.
She arrived on the scene this way. She is an out-of-the-box thinker and doer. There is nothing, not one thing about her, that is typical or standard. She sets her own mold and moves her own way. She lives to her own beat.
And because of this glorious girl, I have had to rewrite all I thought I knew about mothering and about the world. She has made me stretch and think and work. Lots and lots of work. And crying.
But in all that stretching, in all that searching, she has shown me what the top of the mountain actually looks like. And it's beautiful. Just like her spirit.
I'm wired to keep my eyes on the straight ahead goal and the work it takes to get there. She's wired to blur those edges and look straight up high to freedom. Oh, how she teaches me. About beauty and delight and using your energy to fuss over the only things that truly matter.
And love. Her mountains and where she stands have taught me about the truth of a mother's love. What it all really means. Even when it's ugly. Even when it's hard. She is a gift. Always.
Happy Birthday my beautiful girl.
May you always remember what makes you so very extraordinary.
**But Kellie? It would be really super awesome if you could find a way to do a little more homework. M'kay?