Dear Stelly,
Happy New Year! Happy Birthday!….a month late.
Why so late this year? Well, partially it has to do with the fact that within a period of 4 weeks our family pulled off two major holidays, a dance recital and two birthday parties. It’s like somehow our entire year’s activities get squished into the end. But, if you want the real truth about why this has dragged out so long, it’s that these posts are just getting harder and harder to write. You are more grown up than ever, and it is difficult for me to find the balance between enough and too much when it comes to sharing details of your life. On the Internet. Where growing populations of your peers are surfing the Internet from their phones.
Kiddo, this is your life, and you should be the one who gets to decide how much of it you want shared with the world. And man oh man were there some hum-dingers in there this year. But, I’ll just do my best to hang on to those for a more private time. Like when your first date comes to pick you up. For now, I’ll stick to the basics.
LOL, OMG, Totes, J/K!!
So, it seemingly took you somewhere between 15 and 20 years for you to get ready this morning. Those 6 different pairs of earrings weren’t going to try on themselves! Then, after fidgeting with your hair, and trying on three different pieces of outerwear, you stomped out to the bus stop at the 11th hour half sighing, half whining that your boots TOTALLY didn’t work with this outfit.
Your musical tastes have, thankfully, evolved along family lines. You listen to (and enjoy) a little bit of everything. Unfortunately, “little bit of everything” also includes things like Katy Perry, The Biebs and pretty much everything on the local top 40 station. And, like every child who has come before you, repetition and volume know no limits.
We have officially landed on the planet Tween – a trip I thought was going to take a couple more years. Apparently, not so much.
War and Peace by Age 9
I have mentioned more than once that you eat books for dinner. And lunch. And Breakfast. And snack on magazines. To say you are an avid reader is like saying The Beatles were this sorta popular group in the ’60s. It would take an entire bag of exclamation points and underscores to really make the point any more clear. For Christmas this year, your grandparents got you a box of books. Yes, a BOX. And no you didn’t roll your eyes or yell “Next!”. You squealed with delight. I know this will seem completely backward and make no sense, but many of our arguments are about the fact that I am constantly asking you to “PUT THE BOOK DOWN and [insert desired activity here].” And, although you have a library that rivals the county archive, I do appreciate the fact that you consume books for enjoyment and not for sport. You reread books all the time, and dive wholeheartedly into the stories and lives on those pages.
True story: One day last fall, after a flaring of tempers, you stormed off in a fit of tears. It was only later that evening as you and I were walking the dog that you told me that you had gathered up a flashlight and an apple, and had hiked across the street to the horse pasture, where you had secured a secret spot under the trees and planned to spend the night. As you shared with me the details of your plan and showed me your spot, you explained that part of the plan was getting away because you were mad, but mostly, you just wanted to have an adventure like Henry, Jessie, Violet, and Benny (The Boxcar Children). In the most honest and sincere voice I have ever heard, you explained in great detail how much you loved that they were always having adventures and how they were always helping people. I think it ranks in the top 5 of the sweetest moments I can remember. And, it is this story I will flash to when you announce you are joining the Peace Corps.
Oscar & Felix and their other brother Felix
You and your brother. Hm. No delicate way to launch into this one. You two are the Odd Couple. I’ll leave it up to you to figure out which one you are. To be fair though, our whole house is kind of a study in contrasts. There are many jokes that have swirled around over the past year about how we should be renamed The Lastwordigans, or the Loudersons, or The-Always-Have-to-Be-Right-Even-When-I’m-Clearly-Wrong-smiths. No one in this family is shy about voicing their opinion. Or controls the volume at which they do it. Let’s just say that when it comes to the roles in this family, the concrete has set. And as fate would have it, there is definitely some alignment of personalities from parent to child going on. In one corner we have your father and your brother. Their corner is a series of piles of stuff and things and more stuff and it is organized in a methodical fashion that we are prohibited from touching because of its supreme importance. In the other corner is you, although we can’t see you because you are buried under a chaotic pile of everything you own, and you are probably reading a book. I am somewhere in the middle shaking my head at the lot of you, making a sarcastic remark and pouring another glass of wine.
Here is a set of photos I took during Christmas dinner this year:
You look like you extracted your crab by haphazardly smashing it repeatedly with a hammer, with speed-metal playing in the background.
Your father, on the other hand, looks like he used a scalpel and forceps, while a nice Beethoven concerto wafted through the air.
Oscar, meet Felix. You’re both crazy.
The Quilts
We completed a complete full cycle of “firsts” without your Uncle Scott this year. Each holiday and birthday and anniversary of this or that was insanely tough, and will no doubt continue to be. It is amazing how this grief cycle works. For weeks, we are fine, then either your Dad or I will have an odd day, or an especially vivid dream, and we feel like it all just happened. This year, your Grandma Judy embarked on the emotional journey of making a quilt for each of you out of Uncle Scott’s shirts and jeans. In addition to the quilts, she built a book that compiled the quilt-making process from beginning to end. I can think of no better way for the two of you to keep him close as the years inevitably whittle at your memories.
Family is family, is family, is us
I think it is important to point out that the 4 of us have really come a long way over the last year or two. We are figuring each other out, and exercising a lot more understanding for the idiosyncrasies and quirks that we all bring to the table. I have watched you do some pretty amazing things when it comes to understanding your brother’s intensity or the needs of your friends. Or even the needs of others, for that matter. In lieu of birthday gifts, you asked all your friends to bring food that you could donate to the food bank. Pretty awesome, Stel.
You are so very different from your brother, which has made it more challenging for me to be sure I am giving you both what you need, as opposed to giving you what it appears you need. Your brother wears his needs on his sleeve, whereas yours are a little more buried. I find that I often overlook them because I don’t see them. But that is something I am working on – trying to be more patient with you, when you are not yourself. You’re tough and resilient, which often masks the fact that you are also vulnerable and sensitive. You will always be the older sibling, and I will always have expectations of you that seem unfair. But that is our lot in life, us older siblings – I know, I’m one too.
So Happy Birthday my goofy, creative, outgoing and intelligent daughter. I know I say it every year, but you’re one-of-a-kind, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Love,
Mom
