Counting

This is my speech for my daughter's sweet sixteenth party. So much to say, words just seem inadequate and insufficient but I tried. For those of you coming, thank you. We've all watched her grow in to someone amazing. I celebrate this lovely delightful young lady with these words:



The first time I met you, felt you wiggle and hiccup, I hugged you; my belly, my you; counting the weeks, days, minutes until you came to us.Your dad and I would race up the stairs at night; sitting, watching you move, stretch under my skin. We marveled at the wonder of you.

That was a year of firsts; you cried all the way home as did I wondering what we'd done. How could we do this? Raise a baby? Be parents? We rolled up our sleeves and began this journey. We changed diapers, we rolled around on the floor and sat up all night. We went to the doctor's. We napped. We packed up all your gear for an outing, loaded the car and left you locked in the house in your car seat on the table. We clapped and sang and played. You walked to us, you spoke to us and we loved it. Loved you.

The terrible two's? They were NOTHING compared to your throes in the Threes. You stomped, said nothing but NO and threw tantrums. You were grabby and loved to smack people. You bit me once.  Most of this year was spent on the laundry room floor; crying or sleeping... worn out from crying. Me too. I fell back on naps after I was done crying. I think you taught me that.

Four brought reading, writing, getting ready for school.  You would dress yourself, although fashion was, as I discovered NOT your strong suit.  We played games, laughed, loved being silly with crazy hats, paper bag costumes and made up stories. The naps were fewer. We simply had too much to do.

And then you left me at the tall age of five; so abruptly. You got on the bus and as I waved, Daddy took pictures. You tripped and fell in between the seats.  I raced up on that big yellow monster and helped you up. My thanks were the words: "You have to get off the bus Ma'am. She's fine without you." And I did. And I cried.

Six, seven and eight charged in with "stories" not all of them true, school, learning, class trips.  The marvel, the wonder of it all was watching, listening to you as shared it with us. Sad that I had to be at work, was unable to participate; be there for my little girl, you mended my pain accidentally by your funny anecdotes, giddy retelling of the day's events. I understood and appreciated the beauty of the word vicarious.

Double digits and tween? Who cried more?? I watched jealously as I became a less sought playmate.  I felt the wrath of new hormones and the growing desire to push limits (AND BUTTONS) I scolded you daily alone in my mirror;begging for that simple, happy, little girl, not this defiant dismissive tween who hated every article of clothing I showed her. Now I was crippled by lacking fashion sense. A tween despising every restrictive rule I set and burdened by each request I made. But I promised there would be better days.  If we held on, if we counted passed the tough times and tears.

Then you smacked me with your teenage wings; silky, with a new experienced sense of self, a set of principles, goals, opinions and I had no choice but to hear you. Listen. Although occasionally disappointed in some of your choices and unable to stop you from some of the mistakes BOUND to happen, I realized I needed to accept YOUR frustration and anger... that I was right. Not always; but sometimes.

So here we are. Sixteen. Sweet? Oh yes of this I am certain because of all that we have seen and lived through and counted beyond: frustration, sadness, disappointment, anger, misunderstanding... of ourselves and each other. All of that accompanied by laughter; smiling, apologizing, trying... doing so honestly.

From my soul, the heart of who I am; your Mom. Tess. I love you, my daughter.
I treasure you my friend.
I'm grateful for all you are; share and give- as this beautiful wonderful young woman before me.
May it be this hard always, if only to remind me to appreciate how amazing it is to have you in my life.
I count on this.