As my children get older their age gets more disconcerting. Not that I don’t like them getting older–I do. It’s much more fun than I thought it would be. The day you get to show Pride and Prejudice to your daughter–and have her like it–is a great day, indeed. The thing that is freaky about the kids getting older is that I really, really remember what it’s like being 14, 15, 16. I feel like they are zooming into maturity and at this rate they’re going to catch up with me really soon.
The occasion for this reflection was India’s birthday last Saturday. She turned sixteen. Never in my wildest dreams did I picture having a teenager. I got as far as five little girls with brown hair and blue eyes playing Ring-Around-the-Rosies and then my fantasies of “me with children” ended. I knew teenagerhood was coming and I was kind of prepared; as prepared as you can be for a teenage girl shrieking and crying and generally accusing her mother of ruining everything. That’s how the teenager years were for me, so I figured I’d just hunker down and get through it with a steely determination not to be broken by a woman-child.
It turns out I needn’t have worried. India is a pleasure. I get the eye rolling quite often, but I have only myself to blame for that one. I am and always shall remain an eye-roller. (It just says so much that words cannot: “Give me a break”, “you’re an idiot”, “I’d like to fight with you but I’m too mature”, “I reject your rules but in a passive-aggressive way”. See how well it works in many of life’s more distasteful situations?)
As usual I was utterly overworked on her birthday. I sent three batches of sticky buns to early-morning Seminary (which she decided she was too sick to attend. Super.) There was also the issue of a little get-together for her friends which I spent the day baking for (oddly she was not too sick for that). The food was delicious and a fun time was had by all.
Only I forgot to take pictures.
And sing Happy Birthday (Let me just restate that: she was not sung Happy Birthday to on her sixteenth birthday)
Or do candles, even though I made a pretty Red Velvet Cake just like she wanted.
Is it possible to roll your eyes at yourself?
Anyway, happy birthday to Sweet Baby India. She is the most amazing sixteen-year old I know.
P.S. Remind me never to become a party planner.