You are beautiful. . .

There are so many different ways that beauty speaks to us, in the first laugh of a baby, the funny expressions our two-year old comes up with, and lately in the beauty of your growing up. A mother always hates it when her children begin to exert their independence and grow away from you in life. I hate it and I was blessed with you my oldest daughter being extremely independent. So you have been growing up and away from me from the minute you were born. At four months old you would get angry if you saw us helping you to sit up and we would have to sneak in and hold your pj's where you couldn't see our arms and then you would sit there proud as punch that you were sitting on your own---at only four months. Now we seem to have moved into the phase of slamming doors, rolling eyes, and the constant "oh mother" looks.

You are growing up and out and I hate it. Your arms and legs are at the willowy , gangly stage where you don't seem to quite know how to work them, sometimes giving the appearance that you are doing some sort of wood-nymphy dance by the light of moon and at other times it looks like you are having a seizure as somehow you manage to knock down everything close to you and even some things not so close. You don't seem to know how to work these growing limbs yet, or how to style her hair just right.

Then there's the graceful way you flick your long brown hair behind your ears that takes my breath away how grown up you look, how beautiful you are becoming. The way you mother your brothers and sisters speaking in tones reminiscent of my own showing a maturity few possess at this tender age and then the way you burst into tears once again reminding me that you are only eleven.

You are beautiful with your dark brown hair, and chestnut eyes, that perfect nose that we have yet to trace to either family history. There mischief in those eyes that twinkle, and fire in all your moods and I am aware that the teen years are sure to be hellish. (Envisioning slamming doors here, more rolled eyes, and of course the "I hate you - you are ruining my life"), but I saw something beautiful in a picture today, a picture that you didn't know was being taken or that you were in. Sitting in the corner in this picture there is a look that betrays your real feelings. There is admiration in your gaze a look of wonder a look that says "I want to be like you" and if you follow your gaze you are looking at me (yes me).

I hope in reality you are more like yourself than me, but as you grow away it's nice to know that a part of you still thinks I'm the best mom, even if you can't say it, even if you still roll your eyes, and slam the door, even if you don't think I know it, it's nice to see your pride that I am your mother is still there. There is that look that wants me to see you and be proud of who you are, that part of you that still cares what I think and still needs my approval so. . .

"Yes dearest fire child, I could not be prouder of you or more in awe of who you are and who you are becoming. You're beautiful, and that's for sure. . don't ever ever change."