Last night your sister - with tears in her big, green eyes - said to me, "Mom, I don't want two teenaged boys in the house" and I said something to the effect of "tough shit, kid, because you're going to wake up tomorrow with exactly that. But I don't think even I believed it would actually happen.
Your aunt Sheryl and I talked on the phone on your birthday about how, just yesterday, you were so small and silly, and about how you're still kind of small and silly, and that's so much a part of your charm. You're fun-sized and you know it. You work out. You're highly ridiculous. You love your momma. You can't remember your homework from 2nd period until 4pm, but you know every single meme uploaded to iFunny during the last 7 weeks.
Audience participation aside: Am I the only one who needs to call it a meh-m and not a mee-m? It drives me to drink.
I can't believe we are in stage two of your life already. The next big milestone we hit, you're out of my door and onto college/tour/jail. I'm banking on college, for the record. No pressure or anything.
Every single one of my kids swore with all the breath in their tiny little baby bodies that they would stay little for me, for ever. Only you have held to that promise. Your sister is - well, um, gah. Your brother? I can't even go there. But you...I hold your hand in mine and it is still as small and soft as it ever was. You hold on just as tightly as you ever did, even in public where there are *girls* and they might be *looking*. You still are as delicate and defined and satiney as the first day I met you, all wrinkly and snuggly and perfect.
I was 24 that day, and you still are able to make me feel 24 today, in so many ways. I still feel unready for the depth of you, not strong enough to hold my own in the gravity of your being. You are an event, an astrological occurrence that makes everyone who's ever come across you stop and behold, with wide-eyed wonder. You are heavy lightness, darkly bright, a walking conundrum that I will never ever ever believe I made, but today, on your 13th birthday, I understand how lucky I am to have gotten every day I have had so far, and the few I still have ahead of me, as your #1 girl.
All my love, my lucky little 13.