For Meggy on your 11th Birthday…
Meggy,
It’s taken me so much longer to write your birthday letter this year, caught up in a rollercoaster of emotions, falling down rabbit holes looking through all of our memories as you’ve grown and wondering how we ever got so lucky to have you as our little girl, our Meggy. As is always the case when another birthday comes around, I feel an overwhelming sense of sadness that we are moving through the years so fast, grieving for my angry little baby with her furrowed brow, or that chubby little toddler who would gurn at every opportunity. I try so hard to focus on how much more we have to look forward to as you grow and yet a piece of my heart aches for all of those moments we’ll never get back. Being your Mummy is both the easiest and the hardest job in all the world but I wouldn’t change it for a second.
At ten years old you were the kindest, sweetest, most dramatic child imaginable and although I say it every single year (and I hope I always will), it was my favourite year with you yet. Ten saw you flourish into the most beautiful, confident, quick-witted individual who held her head a little higher, walked a little taller and voiced her opinions a little louder. You lost the “baby voice” (I kind of miss it…), reined in your temper (you still have your moments…) and threw yourself head first into every opportunity that came your way. At ten you loved playing football, doing gymnastics, writing stories and painting pictures. Last week you took your SAT’s and when I asked if you were worried you told me, “No, I’m smart. I’ll be fine!”.
Just last month you came home from school and announced you were going to audition for the leading role in your leavers play and although I knew you absolutely had it in you, I was so surprised you would put yourself out there as this time last year there’s no way you’d have gone for it. I will never forget getting the text from Daddy so say you’d landed the role and I cried tears of happiness in the doctors waiting room because I knew just how much this would mean to you. I am going to be the proudest Mummy in all the world watching you on stage Meggy, I can barely even swallow past the lump in my throat just thinking about it.
Ten was the year when your friends meant the entire world to you, when you would be straight out after school and back home just before bed. The year you’d spend hours making matching friendship bracelets or bookmarks, little stuffed animals made out of pom-poms or Taylor Swift posters to share with them, when you would call yourself a “Swiftie” and Eva would roll her eyes and tell you that Taylor Swift sucked. The year when however strong each of your friendships were, Eva was still your absolute bestie and you would lay down your life for Harry without a second thought. The year you joked you loved Emily more than Lewis but your eyes would light up every night when he came home or every holiday he graced us with his presence. Ten was the year when “Gangad” was still your favourite person in the whole entire world and you told him repeatedly he looked like a gorilla because gorillas are the most beautiful creatures on the planet.
Ten was the year you loved the “mini-kids” at school and you’d come home full of excitement over playing with them at playtime, helping them out in the dinner line or comforting them if they were upset. The year another parent stopped to tell me how kind you had been to her young daughters, when your teacher would sing your praises at every parents evening, when you won the Managers Player of the year at football for always having a smile on your face. Ten was the year when everyone we met would say to me, “I just love Megs!” and I will never quite be able to put my finger on what it is that makes you so special but if I could bottle and sell it, I’d be a millionaire.
Ten was the year we sea kayaked in Salou and you screamed blue murder every time we drifted out of the harbour, the year we jumped waves on the beach and collected shells on the shore, the year you did go-karting for the first time and laughed yourself stupid every time you lapped me. The year you’d beg for just ten more minutes when it was time to get out of the pool and how you’d let me wrap you in a big fluffy towel and sit you on my knee like when you were a baby. The year you’d tell me, “I’m still your baby girl Mama” as you snuggled me at bedtime.
Ten was the year we stayed in France where we went horse riding through the vineyards and an off-road safari through the Camargue, the year we’d wander round pretty fishing villages at night and you’d buy souvenirs for all your friends, the year you were utterly obsessed with Coco Mango frozen yogurt and the lady at the counter would greet you like an old friend every night and tell you how beautiful you looked.
Ten was the year we sailed the Canal du Midi and spent our days telling stories, playing games and eating cheese and French baguettes like there was no tomorrow. The year we’d spend our evenings out on a bike ride, cycling through the rolling fields at sunset, enjoying the silence until you’d pipe up in the background screaming “Don’t leave me!!!” on repeat. The year we swam in the lake and you’d freak out at the very glimpse of a crab, a tiny fish or god forbid a wasp hovered ahead; the year you were so brave and so fearless and yet still so very afraid.
Ten was the year you fell in love with Girona wanting to see everything, do everything, and try every frozen yogurt shop in the area. The year we took a day trip to Barcelona and climbed to the top of the viewing point in forty degree heat, lit candles in every cathedral for Joseph and agonisingly chose a new magnet to take home for the fridge. The year you and Harry fought repeatedly over who got to hold my hand despite me pointing out I had two and it was far too hot and sweaty to be mauled at anyway. The year you would tell me you were the luckiest girl in the whole world to have all of these adventures and I’d make you promise they’d continue until you’re as old as I am now.
Ten was the year we ended our Summer in the Isle of Wight where you proudly told us all you were the best at bodyboarding when the reality was you were the only one crazy enough to endure the freezing cold temperature of the sea, the year you were the happiest at a new play park or adventure play ground and I’d wonder why we did all of these amazing things when a swing in the garden would make you just as happy. The year we sailed to Amsterdam and ate Stroopwaffel and chips drowned in mayonnaise, sailed the canals and walked the streets and drank hot chocolate to warm up from the cold. The year we stayed at Efteling and you declared it better than Disneyland, screaming in terror on every loop the loop and then begging to go on it again, “And this time I won’t hold on!!”.
Ten was the year we went to London for Christmas, where we watched The Lion King together and the look on your face was almost worth watching more than the show itself. The year we spent New Year in the Lakes and you were so excited to spend five long days with Nanna and Grandad, the year we played the same board game you’d got for Christmas so many times we knew the answers off by heart, the year we stayed up until midnight to watch the fireworks and you danced in front of the fire place because you knew it would make us laugh. The year you knew when we needed a hug, when we needed to smile, when we needed the comfort of your little hand in ours.
Ten was the year we returned to Meribel to ski and for seven blissful days we raced down the slopes with the sun on our faces, the year you’d steal all the chocolate cake bars at breakfast and on the day there were none put out told us, “I think they’re onto us!”. The year we rode the funicular to the slopes each morning and affectionately nicknamed it the “Squabble box” because the three of you would argue whilst Lewis sat back and laughed, the year we had a day in Annecy on the way back to the airport and your absolute favourite thing about it was your beef burrito. The year we went to Denmark and you were so excited to sleep in a LEGO wizards room, sending room tours to all of your friends and taking weird selfies when you should have been sleeping, the year you rode rollercoasters and flew down water slides and ate entire plates of plain rice despite a whole buffet to choose from.
Ten was the year when amongst all of our travels and each of our adventures the very best thing to happen to you was right here at home with the surprise of a new puppy after years of pleading with us and a whole presentation of reasons why we should say yes. The year I’d find you curled up in bed with Oscar whispering to him that he was still your favourite old “muppy”, determined he would never feel left out or replaced, giving him two extra kisses for every every one you gave Ted. Ten was the year when each of us felt your love unconditionally and you shone the brightest light on our darkest days.
Because as wonderful as it was the year you were ten, it was also the year you lost your Uncle Stuart and the very first time you had experienced death or faced the truth that nothing lasts forever. The year you would cry at bedtime and ask questions we didn’t have the answers, the year your lip would wobble every time you asked me if Nanna and Grandad were feeling sad, the year when your cuddles healed their hearts in ways you will never know, when being together as a family was all that really mattered whether that be away on some amazing adventure or curled up on the couch at home.
And today you turned eleven, right here in New York city, starting your day at the top of SUMMIT One Vanderbilt and ending it in Brooklyn watching your very first basketball game. You have had the most incredible day riding your bike through Central Park in the sunshine, blowing our imaginary candles on a giant Reece’s Peanut butter cup, eating pretzels and drinking strawberry lemonade and walking across Brooklyn bridge with your hand in mine. Of all the ways to celebrate your eleventh birthday, I couldn’t think of anywhere else we’d rather be.
Eleven is going to be a big year for you Megs leaving primary, starting high school with so many amazing opportunities coming your way. All I hope is that I’m sitting here the same time next year saying, “I know I say this every year but eleven really was my favourite year with you yet.”
Happy 11th birthday Megan Alicia. Here’s to another year of frozen yogurt, random cartwheels, learning to crochet and truly making the most of every moment.
We love you all the stars in the sky.
Mummy
xxxxx
