Double Digits

My little girl turned the big 1-0 this weekend. I clearly remember the day she was born–the flood of emotions that came over me when I first laid eyes on her, when her dad placed her sweet self on my chest, with her tiny little hands and her tiny little hat, and we all just cried.

Ten years later, after enjoying the massive satisfaction (and occasional waves of isolation) of being a stay-at-home mom; after maneuvering the delicate obstacle course of being a step-mom to my daughter’s half sisters; and after adapting to life as a working mother, I just can’t stop thinking that this is all going by WAY too fast.

Now we are celebrating double digits. As usual, this year we had a piñata at the party. My girl planned a Greek myth theme and so a fish-shaped pinata, with its, granted, distant Poseidon reference was as close as we could find at Display and Costume. We came home to fill the balloons and piñata and decorate the (ugh) gluten-free cake.

The guests arrived and good vibes filled our house. It was all fun and games, until the kiddies were dive-bombing for piñata candy and somebody got hurt. The birthday girl got bonked in the nose and stood up, stunned. It was a harsh moment. I flashed on the image of my baby and the heartbreaking way that her lower lip would jut out and quiver, before she let out a cry.
Try as she might, my big girl couldn’t hold back the tears. We tried ice cubes and ice packs and frozen peas on her tender nose. Nothing worked. Then she suggested the snow. Last winter she collected plastic containers of fresh snow and put them in the freezer. I had been meaning to toss them for months. I went to the kitchen and scraped some feathery snow into a baggie. The icy softness comforted her and eventually the party resumed.

So here we are. The hurts will inevitably keep happening and the tears will sometimes flow, but the love—the love is immense and unwavering.