IX ‣ halfway there.

I have a nine year old daughter.

I. Have. A. Nine. Year. Old. Daughter.

I cannot believe it.

So many times, as you scoff at (insert reprimand here), I retort – “Well, when you’re a grown up, you don’t have to…”

Make your bed.

Do the dishes.

Mind your tone...

…Clean up the seven f*****ng million Rainbow Loom bands that follow behind your trail like crumbs to Gretel.

“When you’re a grown up, you don’t have to listen to me…”

And here we are, halfway there.

My chest tightens as I reconsider that. Nine years ago, you were born and in nine more, you’ll be a high school senior. In the same amount of time that you’ve been alive, you will be an adult.

Effectively, your childhood is.

Half. Over.

How did it pass by so fast?

The night before you were born, I laid in my bed, timing contractions. I was cerebral. I ticked hash marks on a legal pad. In between them, I’d stare at the ceiling, thinking - “Is this really happening? This can’t be happening.” A frozen body and a racing mind.

I didn’t go to the hospital until I was 8 1/2 centimeters dilated. I had been in labor for almost twelve hours by then, and the doctor said you’d be born within thirty minutes. I nodded back, silently. The nurses acted as though I was brave for toughing it out that long- but really, I was just so, so afraid.

That same fear found me this year, in a way it hadn’t in the eight, prior. You’re becoming your own person. You push boundaries for no other reason than because they were set. At times, I’ve been scared for you – the path you’re walking and where it may lead. I’ve lost my patience. I’ve questioned myself. I’ve wondered when will we fall back to center.

But each time, we do – and this year, I’ve seen these seeds plant and grow and plant and grow. It’s a rapid cycle, and as soon as I figure out how to adjust my parenting, the lesson turns and it’s trial and error all over again.

It’s like this age of pendulum - Where the bad is so bad and the good is… Well, I’m not sure it’s possible to be more proud of something than I am of the good in you.

You have this brilliance and this resilience. You soak in the world - You just see it … differently. You care so deeply about me, in a way I’ve never seen another child love their mom. It’s mature and accepting and grateful. It’s raw and it’s real.

Don’t get me wrong. You can act spoiled and entitled, and you better learn to check that. (Quick). But I know, like I know, like I know… that you see the special in me, and are proud that same special is in you.

I tell you this everyday, in every lecture… You will always be beautiful. You will always be brilliant. You will always be talented. But I want so much more for you. I want you to want so much more for yourself.

Be kind. Be soft. Be open. Recognize how incredibly good you have it. You’re right: Life isn’t fair…. And Newsflash: You’ve been dealt a stacked hand. Don’t take it for granted. Be confident, but be humble. You possess so much goodness – let that be the first thing people see when they look at you.

Don’t knowingly do wrong because it’s easier. Because you’re licensed to. Because you’re encouraged. Your inner compass is stronger than a lot of people around you, and I’ve watched you build walls to block out your own conscious. This is a dangerous habit, Kennedy – and I cannot stress it enough: When forced to choose between “right” and “easy” – you must choose right. You cannot be proud of yourself if you’re ashamed of your actions - and the lengths one will go to block out that shame is more self-destructive than words could ever do justice.

Be a friend to those who don’t deserve it. Be an advocate for those who don’t have your voice. Understand this: You are a pillar. People look to you for direction and this is more than a skill; it is a responsibility. Lead from the heart; push others to do good – they will listen to you, so be impeccable with your speech and purpose.

And please remember – it’s not just what you say, it’s how you say it. Build, don’t break.

Last week, I told you that I hoped nine went better than eight. I laughed, but I wasn’t kidding. Some people say infancy is the hardest, or two or thirteen… But eight took me for all I had, and I can only assume that means it’s been pretty tough on you too. Perhaps childhood is a bell curve with eight piercing the conjoiner of adolescent and young adult – perhaps nine is where nature meets nurture, and we begin to see the fruit of our trials. Perhaps I’m lying to myself…

But I don’t doubt that in nine years, I’ll be proud of you and the road it took to get you there. This second half is going to pass by just as quickly as the first – and before you know it, the choices will be all yours to make. I can imagine you in a cap and gown. Studying for SAT’s. Touring campuses. And you’re brave and empathetic and driven. You set out on your own journey, ready to change the world. I’ll lead and help as best I can, but let me tell you.... You’ve got it all, girl. All you have to do is figure out who you want to be and go be her.

That part is up to you <3

Happy Ninth Birthday, Kennedy.

Stay hungry, stay foolish.

#hbdkennedysamaire #stayhungrystayfoolish #tuesmajoiedevivre