Seven days ago, Avery turned seven. George had the week off, so we celebrated with several mini-trips; to the mountains, to the beach, even the Jelly Belly Factory, where Avery had a generous scoop of Birthday Cake Ice Cream.
It's hard to believe my firstborn is seven years old (plus seven days). I knew the minute she was conceived. I dreamed she was a girl. I chose her name the day we announced our pregnancy. And here she is, seven years old, in second grade.
Exactly seven years ago today, I remember driving home from Lake Tahoe; our baby's first day trip to visit relatives. I was hovering over her car seat, crying my eyes out. I was so overwhelmed with love for this little baby, and the responsibility of caring for her. It was the strongest flow of emotion I have ever experienced. George did not know what to do with the lactating, blubbering, swollen eyed woman that I had become. She had been replaced. She was now a mom. I sent him to the video store to rent 10 Things I Hate About You. It's one of my favorite teenage flicks, and I needed some cinematic relief. And a beer. That was my brush with postpartum. I had a much easier time than Brooke.
Avery is an amazing person, and I'm fortunate to call her my daughter. She is funny, smart, creative, fashionable, and dramatic. She is a whiz at math and reading, and she loves to do experiments. She can navigate the internet like nobody's business. She enjoys knitting, crocheting, baking, making friendship bracelets, flower fairies, playing with babies, climbing trees, swimming. She is a fish in the water! Graceful as a mermaid. I learn so much from her everyday. We've had an incredible time the last seven years, yet it has gone by in the blink of an eye. If I blink again, she'll be a teenager. I plan on keeping my eyes open and enjoying every minute of the time she shares with me. Happy Birthday baby!