Eight

Dear Eva,

Tomorrow morning when we wake up (together, as per birthday tradition in this house dictates,) you will be eight. I know, I know. I say this every year. But I seriously CANNOT BELIEVE IT. Eight is…big. I remember eight. I remember feelings from eight. I made major life decisions (hey homeschooling!) at eight. Eight is NOT A BABY ANYMORE AND THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE AS YOU ARE MY BABY.

*ahem*

Sorry.

But you’re not, you’re my big girl now. You’re in second grade. You’re learning multiplication and division and Latin and cursive and doing really well.

You are hilarious. Your grandma told you you came almost a week  before your due date, and you nodded sagely and replied, “I’m not very patient.”

You are definitely not patient. But even though I get frustrated with that, like, a lot, it’s only because you want to experience and learn as much as possible as quickly as you can.

You like to “joke.” Your idea of a joke is basically any verbal interaction where I’m not telling you to do anything. There are some mornings when we don’t have to rush and be anywhere and you follow me around saying nonsensical things while I’m getting ready, and then inevitably at some point you sigh happily and say, “I love joking days.” It makes me wish we had nothing to do at all ever except cuddle and joke and walk around the house together. That would make you so happy.

That’s all I want. For you to be happy. I know that in the long run, your eternal happiness rests in the next life with God. And you are taking great strides this year to grow in your faith. You go to confession regularly, even though I know how nervous you get before. You are making your First Communion and tell me all the time how you think you’ll feel like you can fly when you receive the Blessed Sacrament for the first time because it will be so special. You are good and loving and kind and even when it’s hard, I know you want to be the good little girl God made you.

I want you to be happy here on earth, too. I know sometimes you aren’t, and that breaks my heart. I want nothing more than for you to know peace and happiness inside yourself.

I am so lucky to be your mommy. Days like today I really think about that. Your mama only got one birthday with you- when she had you. This is the seventh I’ve had, and that’s amazing. I will never ever know what I did to deserve this gift, but I am so so thankful for every single moment I get to be your mother.

I love you, sweetie.

Love,

Mommy

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