Doodle

Dear Caroline,

Today you are sixteen. Sweet sixteen. Except sweet isn’t really your thing because you’ve always been a little more salty than sweet and I mean that in all the best ways.

First thing this morning you’ll go take your driver’s test so you can go get your license on Monday morning and that’s just one more step you’ll take towards adulthood while I sit here and try to figure out how to put on the brakes both literally and figuratively.

Just about a year ago, you were playing in your first soccer tournament of the club season when you took a ball right to the face. Your nose immediately began to gush blood and you had to run to the sideline because there are rules about bleeding on the field. I watched from the far sideline as you held a towel to your nose to stop the bleeding and wondered if you’d just messed up thousands of dollars in orthodontia and whether or not I needed to take you to the Emergency Room. About that time, you changed into a teammate’s jersey because yours was covered in blood, ran back onto the field like nothing had ever happened, and proceeded to score two goals to close out the game.

Little did we know then that getting nailed in the face with a soccer ball was basically going to be a metaphor for your entire sophomore year. Now I realize it was what we call foreshadowing because this past year has been one I don’t think we’ll ever forget. When people ask me now about my hardest year, I’ll say,”sophomore year” and I won’t mean my sophomore year, I’ll mean yours. It’s hard to watch the person you love more than anything fight hard battles.

This was the year when you had to learn to stand strong for what you know is right even when it means you might be alone. You had to make hard decisions about what was worthing fighting for and figuring out when it’s time to walk away. You learned that life isn’t always fair and things don’t always work out the way you think they should. Sometimes the only prize for making the right decisions is the peace that comes with knowing you did.

You took a lot of hits this year and it was hard to watch even though I know these are the very things that are making you into the person God means for you to become. A mother’s heart is stitched together with the most tender of materials and so we feel everything. Every tear, every struggle, every injustice. I have prayed since the day you were born that God would make you strong, confident and brave. I just didn’t think about the fires you’d have to walk through to forge those characteristics.

The truth is it’s hard to raise a warrior instead of a princess. But you’ve got to be resilient because the world will try to knock you down and tell you all the ways you aren’t good enough or smart enough or why you should lower your expectations, but the only limit on your life is what God wants to do with you and he is the God of Ephesians 3:20 who will do more than you can ask or imagine. You are proof of that in my life.

And here’s the thing I learned about you this year that I first saw a glimpse of last August when you ran back on the field. You never quit getting back in the game. You took your hits, wiped off the blood and tears and got back up over and over again. I have always been proud of you for so many things, but I think this year is the year when I clearly saw the woman you are becoming and I couldn’t be more delighted.

A couple of months ago, I walked into your bathroom late one night and saw your Crocs lying on the bathroom floor where you kicked them off after a soccer game earlier that evening and I noticed they had black Sharpie marker all over them. I was immediately irritated that you had decided to scribble all over your brand new Crocs, so I picked them up to see what kind of nonsense you thought was important enough to vandalize your shoes. And that’s when I saw that you had written Bible verses all over those Crocs, verses about being strong and brave and trusting God with all your heart, mind and soul. I nearly had to sit down on the bathroom floor and cry. In the midst of dealing with mean girls and sports injuries and grade stress and social pressure, I realized maybe you had actually been listening to Daddy and me as we encouraged you to find your strength in God. You found verses and wrote them in permanent marker as a visible reminder to yourself of what is most true in your life.

These teen years have been the best, hardest, most joy-filled of my life. I love you more than I can say and not just because you know my love language is when you send me funny animal videos in my Instagram DMs. You challenge me, you inspire me, you aren’t afraid to tell me I look like Edna from The Incredibles when I get a new pair of oversized sunglasses, and you randomly look at me and ask, “Do you like jazz?”

You have two years of high school left and I can’t really talk about that now, but just know I’ll be here every step of the way because being your mom has already been and will continue to be the ride of my life.

Love,
Mom

Dear Caroline,

Today you are fifteen. What on earth?

Later this morning we will brave the atrocity known as the DPS office and bring in seventy-eight different pieces of paperwork and sixty-four different forms of identification so that you can get your learner’s permit and officially start getting behind the wheel of a car. Which is so weird considering that you looked just like this yesterday.

Those fairy wings may make it hard to fit in the driver’s seat.

It’s such a cliche to say that the time has gone by so fast, but it has. The time has gone by so fast that it takes my breath away.

In some ways it feels like a lifetime ago that I was a brand new, teary-eyed mom being handed this little five pound miracle wrapped in a hospital blanket, but in other ways it feels like it was last week. I can hardly remember life before you were here, yet it’s hard to imagine that we are just three years away from moving you into a college dorm that will hopefully not be too far away because your mother can only bear so much.

Here’s what no one tells you about motherhood. Or maybe they tell you and we just choose to not believe it or think it will be different. Just about the time that your little people turn into these hilarious, remarkable, engaging creatures is when you’re on the precipice of having to launch them into adulthood. It’s the natural order of things. I get that the whole idea of parenthood is to raise self-sufficient people who will make their own way in the world and I can’t wait to see where you go and what you do, but there are days I wish I could just keep you here with us forever.

Here’s one of the things about you that I love. You make us laugh every single day. From the Avo-cardio pajamas that you had to have that feature an avocado doing a workout wearing a sweatband, to the way you made fun of me for how excited I got in the orthodontist’s office the day your braces came off, you are one of the funniest people I know. And we are a family that prizes a sense of humor over just about all other traits. Am I proud of you for being a good person? Yes. Am I maybe even more proud every time you make a sarcastic comment that makes me laugh out loud? PERHAPS.

During this last year, I’ve watched you grow up in a million different ways. You’ve never been one not to speak your mind, but you’ve become more secure and vocal about who you are and what you believe. You’ve had hard conversations, you’ve dealt with injuries and other disappointments, you’ve pushed yourself academically and athletically, and your dad and I couldn’t be more proud as we’ve watched you grow and change.

This year has been the year that I’ve prayed Jeremiah 17:8 over you more times than I can count:

Of course I decided to turn to the Bible for wisdom after you totally busted me for quoting from the movie Mulan and telling you after a hard day that “the rarest orchid blooms in adversity”. Who knew I’d even accidentally memorized part of Mulan?

Jeremiah 17:8 is the verse God showed me for you. Because here’s the thing, life is hard. Drought and heat will come. Disappointments will happen. Things won’t always work out like you hope or pray they will. But when you continue to find your confidence and your hope in who God created you to be and the plans he has for you that may sometimes look different than you imagined, then your life will never fail to bear fruit. Your life will never fail to be an adventure. That is my deepest prayer and wish for you from now until forever.

Last fall, we were killing time in a hotel room in Houston and I had you take an Enneagram personality test even though I was already pretty certain you were a Type 8, otherwise known as The Challenger because you have challenged me since the day you were born on everything from potty-training to your wardrobe. Sure enough, your answers proved you are a solid Type 8. Here’s a brief excerpt from the official description:

That pretty much sums you up. I’ve always said that you’re like your dad and firmly believe that if someone doesn’t like you, then it’s their own personality flaw and no comment on you. As a confirmed lifelong people-pleaser, this trait of yours leaves me in constant awe and amazement. You know what else? You challenge me to approach life more like you do.

Last night we went to dinner, just the two of us. And as I looked at you across the table, you took my breath away. You are everything I ever dreamed about and so much more. You are light and love and joy and strength. Daddy and I couldn’t love you more. We couldn’t be more proud of the person you have become and the determination that you show in every aspect of your life. We think you are magic.

Happy Birthday, sweet girl. Drive safe and have patience with your mom as she grips the dashboard and applies an imaginary brake while she sits in the passenger seat.

Love,
Mama

So this little nugget started high school yesterday.

Untitled from Big Mama on Vimeo.

Which is so weird since it feels like that video I filmed the night before she started Kindergarten was like two years ago. So much has changed, except the fact that she still brings her lunch to school every day. She has never one time fallen for my suggestion that she might like the cafeteria food if she tried it.

And I honestly have been fine all summer about her starting high school, especially in light of seeing all the Facebook posts from so many of my friends dropping their kids off at college. Gulley texted me last night and said, “These college drop offs are killing me. I had to get in the wine.” I totally agreed with her. It’s reduced some of the toughest guys I know to posting things like “drove up to the house and realized her car wasn’t in the driveway and wouldn’t be again for a long time and broke down crying.” But I do have to say that dorm room decor has come a long way since I was a freshman in college. I thought we were so fancy because my roommate had a giant pink and green Swatch watch that she hung on our wall, but now people have fabric headboards and rugs that aren’t just a carpet remnant from a local flooring store and ambient lighting.

Anyway, all that to say, I was feeling totally fine and emotionally stable about Caroline starting high school. We woke up yesterday morning and I cooked breakfast, packed her lunch and drove her to school. Everything was fine until she hopped out of the car and I watched her walk through the front doors of the high school that we pass a million times a day and it hit me like a ton of bricks, MY BABY IS GOING TO HIGH SCHOOL.

I cried a few tears and then drove to spin class at Cycle Hub because my fall self has made promises to my summer self about diet and exercise and “being an adult”. After that I had an appointment to get my hair cut and colored because my gray hairs are relentless, but I really didn’t worry about Caroline all day long. That feels weird because high school is a big step and she’s at a new campus with boys that shave. But the truth is I knew she’d be fine. She’s ready for this next step and I guess that’s what parenthood is all about, preparing your kids for what’s next and then cheering them on as they go. Like she told a friend of mine later in the day at Target as we lamented our babies growing older and eventually moving out, “Well, I could always just stay home forever and live in the basement.”

This would be problematic. And not just because we don’t even have a basement.

I picked her up after school and she got in the car with a smile and reports of a good day. Of course I wanted a play-by-play and instead got bits and pieces of information that she shared over the course of the evening and the bottom line is that high school is off to a good start, which makes me so thankful.

It also makes me not want to think about how fast the next four years will go by. For starters, I don’t know that I’m capable of decorating a dorm room that’s worthy of a spread in Southern Living.

Oh, there was also an eclipse yesterday in case you didn’t hear.

Dear Caroline,

Today you are fourteen. I don’t even know how we got here so fast. The last fourteen years have been a whirlwind of pacifiers, diapers and sleepless nights that led to Finding Nemo lunch boxes, pigtails, and losing your first tooth that brought us to sleepovers, soccer games and braces on your teeth. Now here we are on the precipice of high school and although I keep trying to tell myself the next four years won’t fly by, I’m afraid that’s a lie because fourteen years seem to have gone by in the blink of an eye.

But at the same time I can’t remember life before you were here. What did life feel like back in the days before my heart walked around on the outside of my body? Fourteen years seems like a lifetime ago and just yesterday all rolled into bits and pieces of memories that will stay with me forever.

It seems like from the moment I found out I was having a baby girl that I worried about the teenage years. Everyone tells you that in what I’m sure is a well-meaning way…”Oh, just wait until she’s a teenager!” or “You’ll be lucky to survive the teenage years!” and so I wondered if it was all going to be one awful rollercoaster ride when we got to this point and if I would be equipped to handle it. But here is what I have discovered, I adore having a teenager.

Yes, there are times that I can feel you rolling your eyes at me even when I can’t actually see you doing it. There are moments when I know that you’re worrying I’m going to embarrass you by doing something awkward like breathing or existing, but there are so many more moments where I can see real glimmers of the way our mother/daughter relationship is also growing into a genuine friendship as you get older. I adore you because you are mine, but I like you because you are just a genuinely great person full of life and personality.

This past year I watched you set goals for yourself with both sports and academics and then work hard to make them happen. You are competitive, driven, and secure in who you are and what you want to achieve. Sometimes I watch how hard you work at soccer practice, how you push yourself, and wonder how on earth I gave birth to you.

You are fiercely loyal and I’m so proud of how you love your friends. I was so worried about girl drama, but you have surrounded yourself with good, sweet girls and I love the way you love each other. In fact, one of my proudest moments this year was when one of your friend’s moms called me just to tell me what a great friend you’ve been to her daughter and how you loved and supported her through a hard time. It’s this quality in you that will ensure you are always surrounded by love and light.

And you are so funny. We are a family that places high value on a well-timed sarcastic remark or a “That’s what she said” and you have mastered these. Just yesterday I was driving you to soccer practice after what had been a rough day and you knew just how to make me laugh out loud. These are the moments when I’m not sure I could love you more.

A few months ago, I spoke at church about how God has a plan for each of us and has given us unique gifts and talents that will equip us for the journey. On the way home, you asked me how you will know what God wants you to do and I explained that it isn’t any one thing at any one time, so much as it is just listening for his voice everyday and doing what he calls you to do in that moment of your life right where he has placed you – in your school, on your soccer team, and in your community. You nodded your head and said that made sense. But what I didn’t tell you that day is that I have no doubt that God has plans for your life that will go beyond what you can even imagine. You shine so bright, you bring so much joy and laughter to everyone you love, and you are the answer to all the prayers I didn’t even know to pray.

These fourteen years of you have been the greatest gift of my life.

Daddy and I love you more than you know.

Love,
Mom