Today has been a long time coming.
No, really.
My daughter Elsie has talked about her fifth birthday for the past seven months. And with a sad look on her face, it was hard for her to accept that none those days weren’t her big day.
Until it finally came.
On the day of her birthday, my husband Jason and I decided to start it off right since she had been so excited about for so long.
Armed with a cupcake just for her and a Frozen toy, we gently woke her up from a peaceful slumber.
The exact, I mean, the exact first thing she said as she woke up?
“Am I five yet?”
It did our hearts good to finally be able to say “yes, you’re five.”
Elsie sprung from under the covers, with a smile as big as her face.
“I am a big girl now,” she said, already devouring her cupcake and ripping open her present.
A few minutes later, she was in front of the mirror as I put her hair in pigtails.
“I’m really big now Momma,” she said, smiling in the mirror.
“Well, you are still a little girl,” I replied, not totally excited about her getting older.
“I’m not a little girl,” she said, frowning her nose. “I big.”
And so, the battles begins. Daughters trying so hard to be bigger than what they really are.
But I think the person taking all of this the hardest has to be Jason. If he had his way, Elsie would never grow older. She would remain his little girl forever.
The night before her birthday, the two snuggled in his recliner. I could tell Jason was having a hard time accepting that it would be the last night she was four years old.
“Why are you in such a hurry to grow up,” he asked. “I love my baby girl.”
“But I will be big,” she said, pushing his hair up.
“How about when you are a teenager, would you rather go out on dates or hang out with me and watch movies,” he asked.
“Hang out with you,” she replied.
If only that were true. But who knows, maybe Elsie would be a homebody. I know I sure wasn’t.
If I wasn’t out and about with my friends, I really thought I was missing something.
I would have considered a pain worse than death if my mother made me stay home with her on a Friday night. After pouting for an hour, she finally just let me go.
And I felt like a prisoner released from a cell.
Looking back, I can’t imagine how that probably hurt my Momma’s feelings. And I know there will come a day when I will want to hang out with my kids, and they will be too busy or “too cool” to do so.
Maybe I need to remember that now when I am frustrated with the nights of messy dinners, hectic ballgames, dirty bath tub rings, crumbs in the house and laundry on the dining table.
One day, I won’t have to worry about all that.
You should see the look on my Momma’s face when I show up at her house, with a movie and some food on a Friday night no less.
At 34 years old, I want to hang out with Momma.
We watch our movies and either cry from laughter or tears. We stuff our faces with food, take off our shoes and talk for hours.
Then, as the night settles in, I must get up and head back to my own home with my own family.
“It was fun Momma,” I say, hugging her neck.
“Call me when you get home,” she replies.
And as I make my way to the car, she turns on the carport light and looks out the window until she sees me safely going on down the road.
Much like when I was a teenager...Momma watches me leave, says a prayer and turns a light on.
And that will never change so matter how many “I big” moments I may have.
