Dear Caroline,
Today you are eight years old. Eight. I don’t know how eight years have gone by so fast and I can’t believe you are now an age that I vividly remember being myself. I guess that means I better be careful because we’ve reached the years you’ll be able to recall with clarity someday and get mad all over again about that time I didn’t let you wear jeans to church in July when it was 110 degrees outside.
On Monday we went to the mall because you wanted to go to Claire’s and decide if you were brave enough to get your ears pierced. I had no idea if you’d actually go through with it or not and my doubts only grew stronger when you asked if we could just look at clothes for a while instead. But eventually we made our way there and you looked at the various starter earring options and weighed your decision as carefully as I’ve ever seen you think about anything.
Ultimately, the desire for earrings outweighed your fears. I told the salesgirl we were ready to proceed with the piercing. And so she began to mark your ears.
You’ve never looked more solemn or nervous.
And I felt like my own heart was about to jump out of my chest. I knew exactly what you were feeling and I wanted to protect you from the fear and help you conquer it all at the same time.
About two seconds later, they squeezed the triggers and you officially had pierced ears.
You let out a loud gasp. I held my breath, not sure if you were going to cry or scream or completely freak out. And then you said, “That didn’t hurt AT ALL!” I’m not sure if that’s true but I think your complete giddiness over your new green sparkly earrings trumped any pain. You jumped on me and hugged me, so full of joy and excitement. And my heart almost couldn’t take it.
We made our way to Starbucks and celebrated with a double chocolaty chip frappuccino.
You were beside yourself with happiness the rest of the afternoon, recapping the ear piercing event for anyone who would listen while occasionally wandering in search of a mirror to admire your new earrings. Your favorite question to ask was, “Did you really think I’d do it?” and you wanted an answer that reflected the percentage each person believed you’d actually leave the mall with pierced ears.
I told you a million times how proud I was of you for facing your fears and tried to turn it into a life lesson about how sometimes the anticipation of a thing is worse than the actual event. But, honestly, I think that’s a lesson you already know.
You embrace life.
After you won the watermelon seed spitting contest and the belly flop contest at the pool on the fourth of July, I was so proud of you. Not because you won, but because you had the courage to try. I watched you walk out on that diving board and flop into the water with all the confidence in the world and all I could think about was how you constantly amaze me with your desire to absolutely soak up every bit of joy life has to offer. You inspire me.
A few weeks ago we were headed to the library to return some books, many of which you never got around to reading. I asked if you wanted to go in and check out some new ones and you replied, “Mama, I don’t really enjoy sitting around and just reading. Why would I want to sit around and read a book when I can be outside doing all those things instead of just reading about them?”
I don’t know if there’s anything I can say that sums you up more than that. Even though I do hope you’ll turn into an avid reader one of these days. Otherwise I’m doomed to be the only member of our immediate family who enjoys literature other than the latest Cabela’s catalog.
You, my love, are a girl who is ready to take things on. You want new adventures. You ask questions all the time because you want to know about everything. You love nothing more than to spend a day at the ranch with your daddy exploring, but I love that you can still be my girly-girl when you feel like it. No one loves to put together an outfit and accessorize like you do. Even though there are times we don’t agree on your wardrobe selections.
This past school year was a rough one. It was the year I had to figure out how much I let you handle on your own and when I should step in. I’m still not sure I handled everything the right way, but I guess that’s motherhood. You, however, showed remarkable character and resilience. I’m so proud of your ability to make the best of all situations. You have one of the best hearts of anyone I know.
With eight years behind us, I feel like we’re embarking on new territory. Like when I embarrassed you in the grocery store the other day when I was doing your version of a rap song. You informed me, “Moms really shouldn’t rap”. Which only made me want to do it more. It seems like we’re at the official beginning of BIG KID-NESS. But I have enjoyed you more and more each year and I know this will be no exception. They say these are the golden years of childhood and I can’t wait to watch you continue to become the person God made you to be.
You are our light and my joy. Eight years ago today you entered our world and changed us totally and completely. It was as if we’d been living life in black and white and you brought the color. Daddy and I could not love you more.
We are so proud of you and so grateful that God blessed us with the special gift of you. Happy 8th birthday, sweet girl.
Love,
Mama