Seventeen on the seventeenth

Sometimes words fail me, but here I go anyway.

It's my girl's birthday.  Since it's a big one (17 on the 17th), we are having a party on Saturday with her friends.  I am decorating and I have party favors in mind and that's a way which girl parties are more fun than boy parties.  You can't exactly give teenage boys a gift bag full of girlie goodies.

Some years my kids' birthdays make me feel like time has passed impossibly fast.  I don't feel that way about this birthday.

This was forever ago:

I love Braeden's expression.  It was like he won the lottery and I think he still feels that way to have Emma for a sister.

I am a different person than I was when this picture was taken and those two cherubs are part of the reason.

Emma has changed who I am.

She has made me stronger and has refined what matters to me and she has made my grammar better. (I know, you're probably thinking she should proofread my blog before I hit publish every day.)  Being her mother is a much rockier road than being her brothers' mother.  They just love me and want me to feed them.  Emma makes me work harder.  I have to read between the lines and have a thick skin. 

How I love her though! 

I love the young woman that she is.  I love her confidence and competence.  I love her dazzling shiny dreams and I love her quiet steady helpful nature.

Yesterday I had to take Emma to a follow up appointment with an ear nose and throat specialist for her voice troubles.  I am abysmal with directions and I wondered if I'd be able to find the place again.  Then I remembered with relief that Emma would be with me.  She would remember, because she's Emma and just capable.  Mark was glad Emma was there too.  We picked him up from school on the way to the doctor.  When he saw Emma in the van, a big smile spread across his face.  "You never smile like that when just I pick you up," I said.

"I say 'hey' to you when I get in the van," he pointed out.

I'll take what I can get.

But I understand that he would be happy to see his sister.  She is just weird enough that they get each other on a deep level.

I love how weird she is.  I love how smart she is.  I love how independent she is.  I love that even though it would be handy to be able to guilt her into doing things, she is her own person and she. Does. What. She. Wants.

I love that most of the things she wants to do are good things.  (It's a relief!)

I love the woman that she will soon be.  I love that she's mine forever and that I will have a front row seat to watch her life unfold.

There's no one like my Emma and she is proof to me that Heavenly Father loves me (and knew I was up for a challenge!).

Happy birthday sweet girl.  On a scale of one to ten, you're a seventeen.