Josie, my youngest, turned 21 this week.
Seems like just yesterday that she was born but it was 21 years ago.
21 years ago she saw her first opportunity for a dramatic entrance and played dead for the delivery team. I knew there was nothing wrong with her but the midwife and doctors freaked out briefly when the previously vigorous baby refused to draw her first breath.
20 years ago she skipped learning to crawl and scooted on her butt instead. It kept her hands free.
17 years ago she knocked on my office door one Sunday morning, holding the pony tail she’d just cut off in one hand and the scissors with which she’d cut it in the other.
“Will you help me?” she asked. “I can’t reach the back and I can’t go to church like this.”
16 years ago, she swore she’d never grow her hair long again.
11 years ago she got sick of being mistaken for a boy and decided to grow her hair long again.
8 years ago she tried on her older sister’s dress for an 7th grade dance and scared the crap out of both of us by how grown up she looked.
7 years ago she skipped Karate Camp for Volley ball captain’s practice.
6 years ago she joined the high school golf team.
4 years ago she was completely crazy about Justin Beiber.
3 years ago she went off to college.
2 years ago she earned the family nickname “Sloppy Jo” at her sister’s wedding.
Now she’s 21. A complete and legal adult.
We celebrated by getting the whole gang together, including her Godparents, siblings, Grandparents and a few close friends.
We had ribs, corn on the cob, cheesy noodles, green beans right out of Megan’s garden and chocolate cherry cake.
The weather was hot and sunny and we ate out on the deck.
I’m happy to have all my kids reach full legal adulthood. I’m proud of the grown-ups they’ve become.
I miss the little kids they used to be. Sometimes it makes me sad that they all grew up so fast and that those hilarious and occasionally wise toddlers don’t exist anymore. I feel like somehow, somewhere, those little people still exist, if I could just find them. No wonder time travel stories are so popular.
But mostly, I enjoy the grown up version of those little kids. They’re actually more fun than the younger versions were because we can do so much more with them and no longer have to worry quite as much about them surviving till tomorrow. The world is still fraught with danger of course, but as adults, they’re as equipped to handle it as we are. Theoretically, of course.
It’s one of life’s ironies that as you grow in experience and with any luck, wisdom, you diminish in strength and energy. I guess in a way, that prevents the human race from becoming truly dangerous.
What I wish for all my adult kids: Learn from the successes and failures of past generations. You don’t have to make it all up from scratch as you go. This is tricky because sometimes failure leads to success and sometimes success leads ultimately to failure. The trick is to remember what really matters.
For me, what really matters has always been you.