Today I have a teenager living with me.
Today my beloved oldest daughter turns thirteen.
Thirteen. A teenager. Oy.
There’s a small part of me that is in denial that I am old enough to have a thirteen year old child. I still try to tell everyone that I’m twenty-nine but since forty has come and gone for more then a year now, I may have to bump my
lie age up a bit.
But if I had to have a teenager in my house, I would pick my J.
If I had to describe the perfect daughter to you, I would also describe my J.
J is funny and sensitive. She’s responsible, helpful, kind hearted and honest.
It’s sort of fun having a teenager daughter in the house. J gives me advice these days on how to dress and tells me before I go out if I look like a doofus. She does it nicely too. When I was getting dressed up over the holidays she was the first (okay, perhaps the only family member) who told me that I looked nice. I like this kinda stuff.
My girl is also growing taller then me. I always thought she’d be about my height, about 5’5". She’s already 5’4" and my shoes are too small for her. So much for my idea of stealing her funky footwear once in a while.
She is beautiful and getting more so everyday. Is it fair that my daughter is going to be prettier then I ever was?
I’m not sure what I did right in 1995, but the big guy up there was feeling kindly towards me when he sent me my baby girl. I am truly blessed.
Happy Birthday Jenna.
I love you.