For Eva on your 12th birthday….
Eva,
Every year that comes around I find myself sitting here questioning how it can possibly be time to celebrate another birthday with you, painfully aware that with every year your childhood is passing us by so fast. I wonder where that tiny little baby went who was placed in my arms – a real life miracle after all those years of heartache – or how we went from the days of you being glued to my side to waving you off at front door each morning. If there is one thing you children have taught me it’s that giving you the freedom to grow is the absolute hardest part of being a parent and I am trying SO hard to embrace each new stage instead of grieving for the last.
Eva, nothing makes me happier than to tell you that right now, on your twelfth birthday, you are everything I ever hoped you would be and your life is filled with far more joy and adventure than I ever dared to dream would be possible. And as much as I would give just about anything to go back in time and have one more moment of holding my newborn for the very first time, I can honestly say that this has been my absolute favourite year with you yet.
Over the last twelve months you have completely flourished and it has been an absolute honour to see you spread your wings, find your confidence and learn to be proud of who you are. The thing I love the most about you Eva is how you aren’t afraid to be your own person, something I really admire especially at an age where there is so much pressure to fit in amongst your peers. You have your own style, your own views and opinions (and pretty strong ones too!) and your own little quirks which make us laugh on a daily basis. You are sarcastic and quick-witted, kind and empathetic, fearless and brave, creative and adventurous, and breathtakingly beautiful both inside and out.
This year was a huge year for you transitioning from primary to high school and I’ll be honest with you, I cried every single time I thought about it for weeks – if not months – beforehand. I cried filling in the application forms when you so desperately wanted to go to the same high school as Lewis, Daddy and I, when I received the email to say you had your place and you rushed off to tell your friends, and through every bit of paperwork sent out beforehand. I cried at your leavers assembly as you sang (well, mimed….) for the very last time on stage, as you walked out of primary school on the final day, completely dry-eyed with your very best friend beside you and when you showed me all of the lovely things your friends and teachers had wrote about you in your leavers book. I cried when you tried on your uniform for the first time, your blazer sleeves trailing by your hands as the shop assistant assured me, “She’ll grow into it” and I whispered to myself, “Not too fast…”, and I cried on the day I waved you off to school for the very first time, my baby girl all grown up.
And yet from day one you came home bursting with excitement about your science class and what you had done in PE lessons, you told me about the friends you had made and how tasty the waffles were from the canteen, you joined the football team and the cheerleading squad and in four short months you have blown us away with how much progress you have made and the amazing feedback from your teachers. I’m not going to lie, I still get a little teary eyed sometimes when I read a particularly lovely email or when I see you walking towards the car, gym bag slung over your shoulder, chatting away with your friends, but mostly I could just burst with pride at how you have taken it all in your stride and I’m so happy for you Eva. I so wanted your high school experience to be a wonderful one and I remind you every single day that these years are some of the best of your life.
As much as you love school, it’s safe to say that your favourite thing about the last year, and your favourite thing in life full stop, is adventure and at eleven years old you experienced more than some fit into an entire lifetime. Eleven was the year you spent a whole week learning to ski in France and amazed us all with what a natural you are. The year you did the blue runs that many times in one day you told us you could do it with your eyes closed and sometimes I’d have to look over just to keep checking they were still open. The year you fell in love with a brown horse called Praline at the ranch just off the slopes and you talked about him for months afterwards with misty eyes.
The year you had a meltdown over the menu at one of the restaurants after a particularly long day skiing and how even now we only have to say “Meat or cheese” to infuriate you at the memory of such an over-reaction. The year you waited for me on every single difficult slope, helped me up at every fall, told me to be careful on every tricky bend and rested your head on my shoulder on every ski lift.
Eleven was the year we spent Easter down in the Cotswolds and your absolute favourite thing about the whole trip was the talking fridge and visiting the Harry Potter filming locations with your replica wand. The year we surprised you with a trip to London Zoo and you spent thirty minutes in the butterfly house just patiently waiting for one to land on your hand and almost cried with excitement to see a baby sloth hanging just inches above out heads. The year we watched the Lion King at the theatre and the look on your face was just so completely mesmerising that I had to keep dragging my eyes away to the stage so I didn’t miss the show altogether. The year we paddle boarded in the lakes right before Harry projectile vomited all over the ticket booth and you announced, “Well that was awkward!”.
Eleven was the year when all of your dreams came true and we flew to Thailand for the most incredible adventure you have ever known where you came face to face with elephants in Phuket, whizzed through the jungle on a quad bike and ate thai noodles for breakfast. The year we swam in Cheow Lan lake, plucked leeches from our ankles, snakes scuttle across our feet and slept in our very own tree house in Khao Sok.
The year you fell in love with Koh Samui, when we visited Pig Island and the animals all flocked to you as you told me, “This is so much better than Disneyland!”, the year you snorkelled in crystal clear seas, wandered the night markets with a corn on the cob in your hand and learned to speak in Thai with so much confidence.
The year we melted in a Bangkok heatwave, hurtled through the streets in a Hello Kitty tuk-tuk, swam in the rooftop pool during a lightning storm and watched our very first Muay-Thai together. The year you dressed yourself head to toe in elephant pants, shirts and accessories and rocked them long after the holiday ended back home.
Eleven was the year we spent spent June in Salou where we did sea kayaking on a choppy day and you and Harry sang “I am the canoe” on repeat to wind up Meggy until she snapped and told you she hated you both, and you did your wicked laugh as though your evil plan had worked out perfectly. The year we went to Portaventura and you went on all the scariest rollercoasters with Daddy without breaking a sweat, the year we did electric go-karting and zip-lining and crazy golf which inevitably ended in tears when Harry clipped you with his golf club. The year you played in the pool long after sunset and asked if there was a chance we could stay here forever.
Eleven was the year we set off on a Summer of adventures across France and Spain and knowing it felt even more important to make the most of every moment knowing it was our last Summer together before high school. The year you did horse riding through rustic vineyards, took a 4×4 through the Camargue, ate French pastries every breakfast and explored harbour towns each night. The year you drank bubble tea and frozen yogurt as we explored beautiful Girona, where we ate Indian food in our apartment as we listened to live music outside our window, took a day trip to Barcelona and lit candles in every cathedral for your big brother.
The year we spent a week sailing on the Canal du Midi, cruising along in the heat of the day, eating bread and cheese and working the ropes at every lock, befriending stray dogs and shouting “Bonjour” to passing strangers. The year we rode our bikes across rolling fields as the sun set in the distance, where we explored Beziers and Carcassonne castle and ate roasted nuts sold on the street side. The year when the most simple of days were the absolute best, when nothing else mattered but being together, and when you flourished in the warmth of the sun.
Eleven was the year we visited the Isle of Wight and surfed off sandy beaches, where you rode the rickety old cable cars, ate your body weight in ice cream and got lost in a giant corn maze. The year we sailed to Amsterdam where we ate cones of chips bigger than your head, explored the canals, drank hot chocolate on late night detours and discovered Stroopwaffel so delicious that we brought eight packets back home with us. The year we had the time of our lives at Efteling, where you rode rollercoasters from morning ’til night, ate slabs of rainbow cake at every opportunity and said “Bagsy sleeping with Mummy!” before the others had even had time to think.
The year we surprised you with a puppy after years and years of pleading, when you cried with complete and utter surprise and happiness and it was love at first sight for both you and Teddy. The year you were obsessed with random things you’d find on the floor – a penny, a badge, an old bottle top – and how you’d line them all up on your windowsill like your most prized possessions. The year we would make up songs on the way to and from football, singing entire operas at the top of our voices and how sometimes we’d get a Mcdonalds milkshake afterwards and you’d dare me to order it in a silly voice while you laughed yourself stupid on the passenger seat.
The year you were completely obsessed with the Thai buffet at the trafford centre and you’d literally beg me and beg me to go and then devour ten plates without even taking a breather. The year you still got ridiculously excited over every new playground, every swimming pool, every restaurant menu or every new book. The year you were the very best shopping companion I could ever hope for and yet when your critique could be scathing as you’d say, “I’m just pointing out the facts….”.
And whilst your year was undoubtedly the very best we could ever have hoped for, at eleven years old you also experience the loss of your Uncle Stuart, the very first time you had experienced death or faced the truth that nothing lasts forever. The year you would cry at the drop of a hat without, refuse to be away from me for even a moment and cling to me every night at bedtime. Eleven was the year you grew up in so many ways, and in ways I wish you didn’t have to, and yet deep down I knew that you were still just that little girl who desperately needed her Mama.
Happy 12th Birthday Eva Sienna, here’s to another year of bubble tea, Thai buffet, action-packed adventures and truly living every moment of this crazy life together.
We love you all the stars in the sky,
Mummy
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