A Daughter’s Birthday
A Daughter’s Birthday
As I frost my daughters’ cake, I start to think about how lucky I am to have her in my life.
Birthdays for an adult child are so different than when they were much younger. There was the Winnie the Pooh birthday theme, pool parties with line dancing that was learned from their camping experiences every year in Maine, and the birthday parties with face painting and painting nails.
All of those parties are wonderful memories to keep tucked away in my heart. But now as an adult, it warms my heart to see how much she has grown and what a wonderful young woman she has become. Since she only graduated from college a few months ago, there are all of those celebrations still floating round; from her last volleyball game as a senior player, to the graduation on the coast of Rhode Island, seeing her hooding ceremony, her sister coming up from Philly for the festivities, and the actual diploma ceremony for college. All these wonderful accomplishments bring a smile to my face. It was a nice wink of an eye to me from above giving me the thumbs up for a job well done.
I remember a three-year-old coming into the kitchen while I was doing the dishes and asking me to make her apple “more juicier”. I had no idea what to do but I said, “Sure.” So I took her apple and ran it under cold water. I exclaimed, “All done!” and handed it back to her. At that point, she took a bite, looked at me, and with a big smile on her face said, “Thanks mom. That’s juicy!”
I remember a volleyball game as a seventh grader when after the game the referee climbed quickly down the ladder and walked briskly towards us. I was under the impression we did something wrong, however, she told us point blank to get that girl on a traveling team because she was amazing. She kept telling us what an amazing gift she had when she played volleyball.
I recall taking her to a practice tryout sophomore year in high school at a different volleyball club in order to touch the ball more before her tryouts at the club she belonged. I remember watching people in charge moving her to better and better groups of players. I can still see the head of the volleyball club pull her aside to talk to her. Of course being a mom, I didn’t wait until the end of the session to find out what was said. During a water break, I approached Tara asking who that man was and what he said to her. I can still feel those goose pimples on my arms when she told me he wanted her for his national team.
I remember how nervous she was as a sixth grader getting ready to go to camp. I remember how her eyes would well up, but I remember how strong willed she was inside. Because she stuck it out and moved through the pain of that scary feeling of homesickness, she was able to work through the same homesick feeling on that first year of college in Rhode Island. I remember having to say goodbye to her knowing that I would not see her for four months until Christmas time. I remember being grateful that she acted so strong which in turn helped me muster up the strength to let her go get started down her journey’s path.
By trusting herself and putting one foot in front of her, she learned how to work through and overcome her homesick anxiety and travel to Spain for her study abroad semester in college. She kept practicing to use her strength by traveling during her spring break alone to London and Paris. When I look at those pictures, I’m so happy for her to see that she took everything she learned, put herself first, and went for her dreams of seeing the Eiffel Tower, Mona Lisa, and her favorite Stonehenge.
So as I put the last layer of frosting on her birthday cake and sprinkle the top with colorful jimmies, I am a very proud mom who had the privilege of raising a beautiful daughter into a remarkable woman. Being a mom is not easy. It’s one of the hardest jobs in the world. But when you put every ounce of love and commitment into these angels, you get to see them spread their wings and fly towards their dreams.
