Dear Eva

My Eva, 

Happy twelfth anniversary of making me step up my game.  Happy twelfth year of genuine, overflowing love.  Happy twelfth straight victory in the purest heart race.

Every day I say to myself, "wow.  That kid is something special".  Every single year I say to you, "happy birthday, special love".  This year, this day, that all changes:

Wow.  Nothing could compare to the innocence in those big brown eyes.  No one comes close to touching the warmth of that wide open spirit.  Happy birthday, sweet girl.  And thank you for still being that genuine, kind hearted kid you have always been.

Thank you for being the kid whose top Google search is "funny comebacks".

Thank you for being the girl who writes me full page letters at least once a week.

Thank you for being the person who reminds me to be kind when I don't want to do it.

Thank you for being the daughter who never goes to bed angry at me.

Thank you for being brave and smart and sensitive and quietly funny.

Thank you for never giving up and for being the example of tenacity and belief.

Eva, thank you for loving me and for letting me love you so easily.

Happy 12th birthday to my favoritest middlest kid ever.

I could not be more in love with you.

Always,

Mama

Not a co- anything

Someone told me once I couldn't be a single mother - I must be a "co-parent" because he's still around.

You can imagine how that went over.

Um.  No.  I'm a single everything.

I singularly raised them from the moment they were an egg with no feet.

I singularly have met every teacher, sat through every doctor appointment.  I sit alone, in the dark or with the sun blazing through the windows, to rub their back when they are sick or hold their hair when they throw up.  I sit up by myself every night running through all of the things they need to take to school the next day.  Just last night, I was the single parent in the room reading spelling words off while making dinner and getting the class treats ready for two separate parties I can't attend.  Me.  Just me.  And it's been that way from the beginning.

Yes, he is absolutely more present now in their lives than he was when we shared an address.  He, without a doubt, knows them better now than he did when he had the opportunity to spend every day with them.  But, that doesn't diminish the facts.

Because, and I cannot stress this enough, paying for health insurance and a family size bag of Doritos doesn't make anyone a parent.

Paying for anything doesn't make you a parent.

There are a million ways to be a great parent and not a single one can be found on your bank statement.

There is no co- anything for me.  Heaven knows I would do backflips in a field of poseys if there could ever be a co-nversation that didn't end in frustrated anger and hurt feelings.  I would hand over all my top secret recipes for just one co-mmon goal.  

So, to everyone who thinks you can co-parent with a tiny portion of someone's paycheck:  find me one time they went stumbling in the dark looking for a checkbook to soothe them after a nightmare.  Draw me a picture of that time I could throw a $20 at their advanced math homework to get it completed before dinner.  Please.

I will appreciate your comments when they make even a penny's worth of sense to my situation.