Yep, today is The Preteen's birthday. She's 11. She scored Just Dance Wii games, an iPod shuffle, some DS games, and some other random stuff, and that was just from us. Hopefully the stuff from her mom comes on time, (read: TODAY), but I'm not going to hold my breath. Not because I'm bitter towards her, she's just never on time. Ever. But that's not what this post is about. Violet's currently eating a breakfast of cinnamon toast crunch and brownies. I thought maybe she'd request waffles when I asked her what she wanted, but nope - cereal and brownies. A child after my own heart. She also requested a little Storage Wars before the bus gets here. How can I say no?
As much crap as I give her (and she gives me), I cut my parenting teeth on her, and I can only hope she's not too scarred from it. She has been a trooper over the past five years and change, as I have played the game of trial and error with her. There have been loads of tears as well as laughter, lots of second-guessing on my part, trying my best to not take her mom's place yet raise her as though she were my own. It's been incredibly hard, incredibly joyful, has made me consider divorce more times than I'd like to admit, and has been beyond satisfying in so many regards. I love her to the moon and back, and I can only hope one day that she realizes that all I've done has been for her benefit; that all the times she got her way and didn't were because I love her. That, and I don't want her to be a spoiled brat.
Happy Birthday, Violet. I love you, punkin butt.