They say it's your birthday!

On this day, eleven years ago at exactly 11:28pm, my little monster was ripped out of my belly (literally) and thrust into this world. She howled a bit, kicked her legs, flailed her arms and was then placed carefully on my chest for snuggles. If I weren’t so stoned and exhausted after almost four days of labour, I might remember this event; however, I don’t really remember anything after about 9:30pm. This pretty much set the stage for our existence together.

My little Punk has grown into a cute sprite of a girl with a personality and disposition not unlike her mother. She is assertive, aggressive and brutally honest. She will not hesitate to argue her point, even if she is wrong and often butts heads with not only me but her peers as well. She definitely marches to the beat of her own drum and doesn’t apologise for it. When she is older she will be a force to reckon with. So boys and/or girls… watch yourselves, you’ll get more than you bargained for with this one.

A parent often dreams of what their child will grow up to be. I don’t care what she does as long as she is happy and always learning. I could see her personality forming at a very early age and knew I was in for a fight for the rest of my days. As frustrating as it is, I am very proud. She is proficient in Tae Kwon Do (soon a blue belt), visual art and drama. She cares about animals, her family, her friends but rarely what other people think. She will happily wear a skirt with two different colour knee socks or her hair in five ponytails. In fact, when she was a little toddler, she insisted on wearing a bathing suit, tutu and wellies to the grocery store. Not only was she proud of her outfit choice, she strutted around the store like a supermodel at the height of her career. She is definitely one of a kind.. No sheeple tendencies here.

I had a hard time figuring out what to do for her birthday and finally settled on bringing her lunch and flowers to school (her face lit up like a beautiful crystal chandelier), taking her out for dinner and redecorating her bedroom. She really doesn't need any more stuff so I think this shall suffice. A new loft bed, some accent pieces and mom cleaning her room? What more could a girl want? Other than a walk-in closet full of shoes and purses of course. I shudder to think of what I may find while "reorganising" but whatever it is, I'm sure there will be an awesome story to go with it.

It seems that every year a birthday rolls around I am forced to reminisce about the "good old days" aka before she could talk. Her chubby bracelets and anklets, bald head and belly laugh will never leave the confines of my memory. On the real bad days, I close my eyes really tight and imagine her this way instead of the screaming banshee she is imitating at present. I know this too shall pass but there are so many years until it does one must wonder how her own parents survived. If I remember correctly, a whole lot of booze and pulling out of the hair. Sorry parents.

One day in the future we will read this birthday message and laugh, she will apologise for being a jerk and I will apologise for passing down my more annoying traits to her. We will hug, blow out the candles on her cake and toast her thirtieth birthday... provided we make it without putting each other in the institution for the criminally insane. Wish us luck?

Happy Birthday Daughter!