So: my daughter (I never thought I'd say that after three boys - my DAUGHTER) turned 6 yesterday on Bastille Day. Bastille Day is big around here: it's Colette's birthday and my mother's birthday (we just say Memere is Colette plus _0, so!).
I think fun was had. I hope so, because I have been rendered immobile. Birthdays are wonderful. But man I guess I am getting old.
Colette is really tricky for me. She is a lovely girl. She is also sensitive, bright and VERY detail oriented, which sometimes clashes with my slap-dashery way of doing things. And her flamboyant whackjob of a sister (who may go by the name of Sylvie) is often all too happy to trample through Colette's very precise plans for HOW THINGS ARE SUPPOSED TO BE.
Oh I love her so much. Sometimes I marvel that this ethereal little auburn haired beauty is my own little girl. But all this growing up coming up: it's not going to be easy for any of us females around here, not while we have oodles of estrogen coursing through our veins.
Well this is embarrassing: I am kind of having a tough time slogging through the days. And I feel bad about having a tough time. Because - well, duh. Six healthy kids. Everything is good.
A dear friend reminded me today that "sometimes it is not our decision." Strangely that was comforting. Of course I didn't choose this; but I have to trust the One who allowed it to happen.
But I also have to believe that He knows how darn and stupidly sad I am.