Precious Thirteen

The issue of teenagers is weighing on us in particular this week… because we officially have another one. Delphine is 13. No more little kid. We have two teenagers now.

So, owing to the start of the summer term and it being 3pm and us being ready for bed already (school started at 7am on the dot), my brain is firmly boggled in the past. It is the only thing I can hold on to without falling into a deep sleep on the sofa.

Birthdays aren’t for children. Maybe a sideline. Ha! I think they are really for the mothers who can remember one of the few times in their lives when their pain was so significant they thought it could actually kill them. In this sense, your child’s birthday is the day you got away with it. You lived to tell the tale.

Your kid is one year older now? Happy birthday kid. Now let me tell the story again.. first the hospital broke my water… and that was like a burning internal arrow being shot into my cervix. Don’t worry – I wont go any further! Phew.

Meanwhile, my grandma who is set to turn 93 years old in a couple weeks time has her own birthing story of my mum and aunt. It gets more dramatic every year. I like the bit where she got a lift to the hospital in the head hospital doctor’s car and his car broke down. Hehe. And she didn’t even know she was having twins.

Not fair. You cant beat a birthing story where the mum didn’t know the existence of at least one of her forthcoming children. The women who sit down on a toilet or the like, and unexpectedly give birth – well, they’re too much. A full-on run through a sniper-active war-zone sounds more reasonable.

Delphine was small. Just under 2.5kgs. She was round though, even in miniature. She continued to grow so that baby became a right happy butterball. Character-wise, she was and is mostly always happy. She still takes very little energy to entertain and she can concentrate for hours. Handy that. Am I making her sound like a pet? Oops. I must be tired.

She also has a proper infectious laugh. Real gut buster. No one tends to see coming until you hear it. It makes a person appreciate being alive. Delph is zany… like the moon kissed her when she emerged. Nowadays it’s changed a bit – growing into a wit which tends to emerge when you least expect it. It’s different to her sister’s all-round brilliant sharpness. It’s more selective and more unpredictable. We savour it because of this. It always feels like a gift.

Happy Birthday, Delphine 💕. Butterball precious to precious thirteen. We are so lucky to have you. Of course, I know you’ll agree! The ride just got more interesting – here comes teenager-hood! Perhaps I can just squeeze in a seven-year nap.

4 thoughts on “Precious Thirteen

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