Happy Fourteenth Birthday, Heather!

Today, you are fourteen and, well, like I told your sister Holly (in her birthday letter, last month) Holy Hannah Montana, the years are just flying by.  No matter how hard I try to deny the fact that my two oldest girls are getting older (me too, DAMMIT!) time insists on slipping through my fingers, burrowing deeper into my chest and squeezing away a little piece of my heart, each year.

Remember yesterday, when everyone left us alone at the breakfast table and you and I talked about when you were little.  How you cried a lot and never slept.

Me, too. 

Except, you DID sleep in your car seat (a little) in our first minivan, you know, Daddy's Windstar (may it rest in peace) while I drove around town, in the middle of the night, through tears of frustration...both yours and mine.

I know now that, right from the beginning, you were developing a keen sense of empathy and was just hypersensitive to the world around you.

"I'm sorry, Momma!"

Still are.

"For what?"

It's like you know exactly how I'm feeling, or when to make daddy smile.  

"Thinking about that makes me wanna cry."

[blank stare]

See what I mean?

"Soooo, you wanna go for a drive?"

Although, most folks would probably consider outwitting your parents at the dinner table, on a daily basis, as borderline brilliant -- especially, to your siblings -- I really do miss your knock-knock jokes.

"Just you and me, okay?"

I know how hard it is to be the middle child...sort of...literally, wedged between two sisters, having to share one bedroom, which you end up cleaning, by yourself, mostly and giving up the corner of the couch, so your baby brother could better reach his sippy cup.

"So what, mom STILL makes me use one, when I'm sick, too."

You were my little keeper of the peace; still are.

Then, all h-e-double-hockey-sticks broke loose and, by Thanksgiving, last year, we were all trying, real hard, to make YOU feel better, while you celebrated your 13th birthday, flat on your belly. 

Then, it was mommy's turn and, well, making butt jokes during yet ANOTHER emergency surgery is more than appropriate, right?

Riiiiight.

It DID get better.  You made the field hockey team.  I survived your first game.  Then, worse.  You had one more emergency room visit. 

Oh yeah. I forgot about that.

"Like what?"

But, since SHE was the one to bring it up.

"Like, if I'm sexually active or not."

[grabs time by the cajones and squeezes, HARD!]

Aaaaand now, well, you ARE fourteen, one year post surgery and looking forward to joining your sis in high school, next year (DAMMIT!) not to mention, proving yourself to be the bravest and strongest kid I know, over and over again.

So, there's nothing much more I can say (without crying, again) besides, what I used to say, you know, when you were little:

"I love you more than the moon and the stars!"

Aaaaand, Momma's gonna sing (yeah, AGAIN!) ready?

[clears throat]

I wish I were more like you!

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