This is a very thrown together sort of post… I wanted to wait until I could do a proper birthday post, but I am so tired. And I know that you are also tired of looking at the poopy picture at the top of this page. So, here we are.
Lizzy turned 11 today. Madness. That’s her up there when she was… uh… four. Four years old and holding her Stinky Bear. Have I ever told you about Stinky Bear? She took that thing EVERYWHERE the first 5 years of her life. Finally, after having to track him down at various locations across town, I wised up and told her Stinky Bear had to stay home. I mean, look at that thing! We’re lucky people saved him for us instead of immediately dousing him in lighter fluid and setting fire to him. Once after tracking him down at the supermarket, the woman behind the desk said “I could tell that bear is well loved.” That much is true. She still sleeps with Stinky Bear every night.
And that pretty much sums up Lizzy. She takes every normal human emotion and amplifies it by 10. When she is happy, she is bouncing off the walls spastic. When she is sad, she acts like the world is going to end. When she loves something, she clings to it with her whole soul. If one of her teachers moves or leaves, she is heartbroken. She does not namby-pamby around with her emotions. She feels everything with ferocity.
And she is wonderful. Watching her play with Kitty makes my heart swell. She means to be good… she really wants to be good. And she is, most of the time. I mean, she’s eleven, so she has her moments. But, she really does try.
My firstborn. The child that made me a mother. We’ve had a lot of ups and downs over the years, but we’ve had unbelievably good times, too. Love you, Lizzy.