Essay #3: Fourteen & Fearless

Livvy-Love turned 14 on Monday...April 27, so, obviously it's taken me some time to figure out what this means...and to set up her goddamn phone, which made me feel old, which pissed me off, which delayed all things celebratory. I digress.

Fourteen, Liv. I didn't realize this would feel as old as it does, not until the moment a kid in my 7th period said, "Hey, I'm fourteen, too."

Say what, now?

Logically, I knew this was coming, as she registered for high school classes in April, and we argued about whether Spanish or choir was more important, and why I think she should take CS1 with Miss Michelle, but it still hit me: fourteen is old enough for high school, which is when you learn to drive, which is when you graduate and start your future. Away from home.

Holy. Shit.

I know how time works. I'm not a conspiracy theorist, nor am I someone who cares enough to wonder if there is another, parallel universe that someone like the Flash is fucking with. Who has the time to worry about these things? (But IF there is, I hope my character is sitting on a beach writing a best seller.) And still, 14 kind of rocked me.

Livvy-Love, when I started thinking of your letter for the year, the things I wanted to remember, the things that were specific to who you are now, so many came to mind, but the one I kept coming back to was your ability to stay calm in the face of chaos: middle school, a ballroom filled with dance moms and dads, a piano syllabus filled with people you don't know, a stage...

Earlier in the year, I asked you if felt nerves, and you laughed at me. "Oh, yeah. I would just rather pass out than show anyone I'm scared." Which had me spiraling, as I do, but you laughed again and said, "Mom, I know I can come to you--I just don't need to."

First: ouch.

Second: okay, queen, way to be emotionally stable.

I saw this again just two days ago (and yes, we are in July now, that is how long this post has taken) when I was hemming and hawing over whether my new shoes, which are total gamechangers, were a decent enough match to my dress, or if I was pushing past Fancy-Nancy fashion straight into Brittney circa the early 2K years, and you told me to "stop looking in the mirror."

So logical. So simple.

Again, how are you my child?

Thank you for being so fearlessly 14, Livvy-Love. For showing me that you do have fears (say, anything that can be construed as a bug), but also how easy it is to step back from them and remind ourselves that we control only so many things: Looking in the mirror, how we feel and what we show to the world, how we act and react to certain situations.

Thank you for bring fourteen and still sharing your life with me, Livvy-Love, even if you can be a bit of a dick when you correct me. Or when you go across the country for a week and only call your dad to say goodnight. Ahem.

I hope for the rest of your fourteenth year you know how much I love you. I hope for your fourteenth year you understand how strong you are, and determined, and that while 14 is amazing and weird and sometimes really uncomfortable, who you are is strong enough to withstand any and all things.

And it's made me stronger, too.

Happy super-belated birthday, Olivia Anne. Love you to the moon.

<3 Mama