Attention:

Accompanying "Happy Birthday" for us.

We have a big NINE year old
One more year and Aspen will be a double digit. In a few years... a teen! Sounds cliche, but really, where has the time gone?

Her birth seems like yesterday. 

On a flurry filled December night I went to my last Lamaze class. On bed rest and feeling retched that day, the evenings outing was a welcome reprieve from passing time lying on my side all day. Sitting in class at the hospital, I began seeing flashes of light. I knew my blood pressure was skyrocketing. Mick and I, on the doctors recommendation of such symptoms, went up to labor and delivery after class... just for a blood pressure check. An hour later I was dressed in a flowered gown, stuck with an IV and hooked up to every drug known to a laboring women. 

This was the moment. The moment I had been intrepidly awaiting for months. Every emotion filled my eyes and poured down my face. I'm not ready- I remember thinking. Little did I know I would have 36 hours of labor ahead of me that would change my ideas of readiness. I just want her out became my new motto.

This year marked her first birthday not receiving a toy. That's right, no new barbie to mingle with the 80 piled in the 10 gallon pink tote downstairs. No plastic of any kind. And the funny part about it is I would have bought her 80 more barbies and a new pink tote just to insure she cannot grow past the magic ages. For her own sake and for mine, but time does not work that way. As her mother I have to revel in the changes to come. In the opportunities ahead. The Aspen on the horizon. Her social butterfly self spreading her wings and flying into her own.

Celebrating with friends at school... PEACE

I still don't feel ready. The learning curve is steep. It's simple to become a mother, much harder to be a mother. Each day brings new challenges, particularly with Aspen being the first child. Each experience is new and we have to map out our course together, often butting heads at every intersection. But therein lies the beauty of it all, I suppose. By the time she's 18, we've been through some cross roads and my most important works as mother are done, I wonder if I'll be ready to have her out? Ready to have her leave the nest? Something tells me I might try to persuade her from leaving with the latest and greatest plastic gadget.

Ready for the slopes!