Tonight I am not going to talk about chickens. Sort of.
I say ‘sort of’ because we used to call this amazing, kind, smart, creative, funny girl “Chicken”. Not in a mean way… never in the “you’re too scared” way… always with love and silliness. In the top photo, she was still my little chicken. In the bottom, she is a teenager.
A TEENAGER. My Rory is a teenager! How did this happen?? Yeah yeah yeah… time moves forward, yada yada. But really, how? Don’t worry, this post isn’t going to turn into a sappy ‘don’t blink bc you’ll miss the best parts’ kind of post. This isn’t that.
See, the cool thing about my kid is that I have liked her more with each passing year. I say liked because while I have always loved her so much that I would (if provoked) destroy anyone who hurt her, I really, really like her.
She is hilarious. She is moody bc hi, teenager. She is all the best parts of me (and her father, yada yada). She loves animals more than people, which makes perfect sense most days. In short, I have an awesome kid. A teenage kid. A teenage kid who is so authentically herself that it scares me. I would give just about anything to have even half the self-confidence my girl does.
So…Happy Birthday, Rory! Thirteen years ago I couldn’t wait to meet you, and today, I am still so honored to be your Mom. I love you infinity chairs.