Friday, May 3, 2013

Eight


Hey, Goober . . . you're eight! Thanks for letting me call you Goober. You have a few other nicknames: Curly Girlie, Gooberlicious, Pie, Sassypants, and Your Highness. We call you Your Highness because you sometimes confuse the term "parents" with . . . "servants." 

Eight years ago today, your dad and I were hanging out at the hospital, waiting for you to show up. You were due on April 26th but arrived on May 3rd. Even then, you did not emerge voluntarily - an induction was required.  Your birthmom had a very long day that day. Everything changed on 5/3/05 - for all of us -  but it remains the best day of my life.

Today, you still do everything on your own timeline. You're feisty and smart and funny and we wouldn't have you any other way. Oh, and bossy. We thank you regularly for not being twins. Although we are still waiting for you to comb your own hair and put the cap back on your toothpaste, you have matured in other ways. You "get" jokes and often crack some good ones yourself. The other day your dad was leaving for work and I teased him that he was leaving early to meet his girlfriend. You said, "Oh yeah, his girlfriend!  I think I see her car!" (Or at least it seemed funny . . . it's not funny if you really did spot her car.) Recently you and your dad were playing Headbanz and he was having a tough time guessing what was on his card. He had already asked, "Am I an animal? Can I swim?" Then he asked you, "Am I a tool?" and you and I both laughed. When I play a game with you, you do a really obnoxious victory dance. You get mad when someone else wins and tries to emulate your (surprisingly involved) dance.

Occasionally you manage to make your own breakfast or to do something without being asked. The other day you started your math homework without prompting, so I had to check your forehead for a possible fever. One big change this year was that you've started doing sleepovers with friends. We had one failed attempt last summer but you seem to feel more comfortable with it now. Another sign of growing up: you're a lot more concerned about fashion these days. You asked your Aunt Craggy for a jean jacket for your birthday and were very specific about the style, color, etc. You desperately want to wear clothing from Justice. That store hurts my eyeballs but I still take you in there occasionally. I tell you that if you'd do your chores, you'd get an allowance and then you'd have money for Justice. You'd still rather not do chores, however. You told me you might be willing to do chores if you can choose the chores yourself. I told you that's not how it works.

With each passing year, I find myself watching you and wondering what talents will emerge. So far I think we've ruled out sports and math. You kick ass at reading, writing, and art, though. You're very creative and are constantly making artwork (and then obligating me to keep it for all eternity). You go through paper like I don't know what. One of your greatest skills seems to be your ability to be . . . popular. Your fan club has a lot of members.

I, of course, will always be your number one fan. You make me crazy sometimes, like when you are supposed to be brushing your teeth and I find you singing and dancing in the bathroom instead, but I hope you know that I love you with all my heart, baby girl. I love every bit of you, from your unruly curls to your jagged toenails that you won't let me cut. I love your infectious laugh and the way you won't let go when I kiss you good night. Happy eighth birthday, sweet girl. You make all my dreams come true.



4 comments:

Sarah said...

Awww! Happy Birthday Adrienne!!! We're so lucky to be part of your fan club! You're an amazing little girl! Your parents aren't so bad either. :-)

Jen said...

You just made me cry. My daughter turned 8 in April. Your girl is amazing.

Kalinda said...

What a sweet post. Happy Birthday A!! This means my A is going to be 8 very soon, too. Unbelievable!

Beth said...

Tearful here. Three more weeks 'til my little one's big day. And he's often called "Pie" too.