The world was a different place, and I was a different person in it 11 years ago when the Ladybug was born…when we brought her home from the hospital in an old 1970’s blue Ford pick up (which ran out of gas on the way, but don’t you EVER, EVER, tell Mr. Fix-It I told you!!). Without a/c. In Virginia. Smack in the middle of August. {smile}

We were so young. We had no idea all the things we didn’t know!

I could put a lot of words to this post, but let’s all just enjoy my daughter’s adorable face for a few minutes first…

I  could say all kinds of things about how wonderful she is. How sweet. How kind. How beautiful. How much of a servant’s heart she has…But I think today I’d rather just scroll through the pictures and remember..

Remember the adventures of being a first-time momma. Remember the adventures of being her momma. Remember pink muck boots and missing teeth and losing “pink baby” at the zoo and rushing around like a crazy-person to find her before they closed because we didn’t do anything or go anywhere without pink baby.

Remember for a moment that now, at 11 years old, pink baby sits on her bed all day long so nothing happens to her (because she’s so worn out you can see right through her!). But she still sleeps with her at night. Remember that we bought her jewelry and nail polish and a new purse for her birthday. Remember that I don’t get to pick out her clothes anymore, and that brushing her hair is a privilege, and that she takes her phone calls on the back porch for “privacy” these days.

Today I’ll make steamed shrimp for dinner, and birthday cupcakes, and finish planning a little family party for Friday…and I’ll remember that as fiercely as my heart tells me she is mine, she is not.

She is HIS.

And she is her own.

And I will remember to hold her more tightly because of it.

Happy Birthday Ladybug!