A birthday letter to my Bee-girl, who is seven.

Dear Bee,

Happy Birthday, baby! Yes, your birthday was yesterday, capping off what has been a month filled chock-full of celebrations. We had your school party almost a month early in hopes of breaking the curse and getting more of your school friends to attend, and while we were only partially successful, you had no idea because you were too busy rocking out and bouncing around and generally just having a blast. It’s part of your self that you’ve stayed true to – when you have fun, Bee-girl, you have fun. Like, whoa.

I love seeing all of those parts of yourself come more clearly into focus – you are still funtime, mischievous Bee and I LOVE that! No one loves hiding and tricking more than you, if that sparkle that you get in your eyes is any indication. You had your share of struggles this past year, sure you did, but my gracious sweet girl – if there was ever an illustration of how much you have grown, watching you struggle over your school work would certainly serve. You cried, yes, because learning can be hard for you, but you didn’t pitch tantrums. You acted stubborn about it, but you let me pull you down that very teary path and eventually finished every stinkin’ worksheet and spelled those tricky spelling words five and six times straight when I insisted. You’d wipe your eyes, your chin would wobble, and you’d try so, so hard to summon your strength and your big kid-itude and you pushed through it. And while it breaks my heart to watch you cry and struggle over anything, I believe to the tips of my toes that you hear me every time I tell you that working hard will teach you how to stick to things and become a fantastic studier a person who never gives up. You have become more sure of yourself this year, Bee, and that is a beautiful thing.

My mama-heart sings when you say, “Because I’m a good cook? Yeah, I know,” because you are sure of it, and how confident you are that you are a fantastic dancer (you definitely have more grace than your sister and I put together, that’s for sure), and how you never try to talk me into watching something you shouldn’t because you know what scares you and what doesn’t. It’s how I’ve noticed this past year that you’re quiet not because you’re unsure of yourself, but because you are sure; you don’t try to compete with your bossy and talkative sister because you know when she stops to take a breath or when I pick you up from school first, you have my undivided attention and can (and do) talk nonstop. You dazzled me with not just how self-aware you are, but how articulate you’ve become when, the other day when we were shopping, I vetoed your choice in a dress because it was hideous. I mean, ghastly. I told you it was because I didn’t like the style and I wasn’t paying that much for a dress I didn’t like, and you said to me, “But Mom, why do you have to like my dress? Your style isn’t my style.” It was a persuasive argument because you were essentially telling me that you are confident in your status as a fashionista, and also repeating back to me what I say to you girls so many times in so many ways: it’s okay to be different and to like different things than everyone else.  Just try to go easy on your mama when you’re busy being smarter than her, okay? I’m sure it’s going to happen even more now that you’re seven.

So. Keep on being fabulous, funky, and honestly one of the funniest (and funnest) people I know. Keep coming up with the phrases we incorporate into the lexicon at Casa de Katie. Keep being our trend-setter. Stay true to yourself, love Disney Princesses and playing dolls riding Big Wheels even if your sister thinks they’re for little kids, and it’s okay to mimic your stepsister and the big kids even if it sometimes makes me laugh. (Sorry, kid – you’re hilarious. I’ve said that, right? I promise I’m not laughing at you, I’m delighting in you, in your YOUness.) Try new things and learn that you love Indian food and crab and spicy salsa and Judy Blume sleeping late and wearing two belts on all of your dresses and swimming underwater like you’re part fish.

Just keep having fun. Keep asking for more. Keep laughing. And keep telling me all about it. We were right – six was your year. But seven… oh, baby. You are running full-tilt into seven and I just know you are going to own it.

Happy Birthday, my little rock star. I love you even more than you love chocolate times infinity. In real life.




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One Response to “A birthday letter to my Bee-girl, who is seven.”

  1. Kathy Says:

    Happy Birthday Bee! I hope you had a wonderful day and that you keep being wonderful, wonderful you.

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