Twelve is one year from thirteen which means exactly one year from today my first born child will be a teenager.
But for now, she’s twelve. She’s almost as tall as I am, she’s funny and silly and smart and sometimes so, so serious.
She texts her friends and spends way too much time on the computer but still wants to play with her horses in her sister’s bathwater.
Twelve seems to be an exercise in extremes. She wants to snuggle with me each and every night and yet snaps at her dad for the slightest things. He’s the target for so much of her pre-teen angst. I feel sorry for him and yet I’m selfishly grateful that she still seeks out my company, wants to connect with me each and every day. I try so hard to be there with her in the moment because I know these moments won’t last forever. I want to bottle this sweet twelve year old soul and sprinkle it on the evil that could very well be what we face when she’s fifteen.
Then again, there might not be any evil to deal with when she’s fifteen because we’ve built trust and relationships and respect over the last twelve years and will try so very hard to do so over as many years as we’re blessed with this beautiful girl.
Alyssa is everything I ever imagined a daughter would be before I was a mom.
She’s challenging, she’s sensitive, she’s bossy and she’s gentle all at the same time. She needs so much reassurance even when she’s at her most independent. She’s feeling out her own weirdness these days and trying to figure out if it’s over-the-top weird or just awesome weird.
My vote is awesome weird. She’s my girl and I’m so, so proud of her.
I could not love her more. The person she was, the person she is, the person she’s becoming. She’s amazing and I’m so incredibly lucky to be along for the ride with her as she figures out this journey called life.