Things I want to remember about 8.

Wow. It's been a long time since I have been sitting in front of a blank blog post. I think it's probably time to stop annoying people on Facebook with my long winded posts and put them back where they started. So, here goes nothing! Here we sit on the eve of Pook's 9th birthday. I am not entirely sure how 9 years could have possibly passed since the day she entered my life, but the calendar says it's true. She is the most amazing, beautiful thing I have ever created. And as the years seem to go faster and faster, I have realized so many little things that I have taken for granted. So many moments I assumed I would remember, so many times I looked up to see her smiling at me that I didn't snapshot into my mind, so many conversations that I didn't seal away and preserve. But 8. I want so badly to remember 8. I want so badly for you to be able to remember 8. Because 8 was amazing. I know we don't have any choice but to wave goodbye to 8 tomorrow. 9 comes right on in and takes over, and there's no room for 8. We have seen this happen many times before...and by the grace of God, will see it many times again. But I just am not ready to let go of 8 Year Old Pooks. Oh, 8. You were so funny. You love making up parodies to popular songs. There were days you sang most of what you said. Loud and Proud. Dancing on the other hand...You love to dance. But only in your own space. There is a shyness when you dance, like you're just figuring out how to be comfortable in your own skin, and it's so sweet. I love watching you try out your moves. At home, you feel like a rockstar. As you should. This audience wouldn't trade tickets to these concerts for anyone else. You love lip gloss and writing on your mirror in expo marker. You claim your catch phrase is "Bri-Fri" instead of "Bro". Your laugh is contagious and you spent a lot of time making your mom laugh. (And a lot of other people, too). You spend hours in the basement, playing barbies, and working on your businesses. And they are no joke. I can see the wheels turning in your head and know things HAVE to go as planned. That focus and that passion. I hope they find 9. and 10. And 11... You are so serious about your play- it is so intense. And I love seeing that. It's when I know you're at your calmest, at your purest. You are completely and totally invested in everything you do on your own and every single person you love. You still didn't really care for organized sports, but having a friend go with you was worth gold. You made a huge transition to a new school and you handled it like a champion. You love purple, teal and pink. They are "your colors". You screech for American Girl and snow days. You giggle for silly puns and you are so wise beyond your years. You moan anytime I ask you to do a chore- but you are getting better. You are a fish in the water and could spend hours with a friend in the pool. You got a million more freckles. You conquered the big slide, and said you would never do it again. You're addicted to blind bags and you tube kids. And Shopkins. Oh, the shopkins. You rode a bike, had nerf gun wars, got filthy and stayed outside until every last bit of sunlight was gone. You started chewing gum regularly, not sure how that one happened. You decided you want swoopy bangs, started learning life lessons like wearing deodorant, and freaked out about getting zits. You don't want to wear anything but "Comfy pants". You want your hair down, and don't care if it's in your face. It drives me crazy and we fight about it constantly. Your heart has had to make tough decisions, have faced tough moments with friends and teachers, but you have done so with wisdom and rationality on your side. When you don't know something, you ask. Or you google. But mostly ask. You feel deeply. And I love that about you. You really don't like Math, but you LOVE to read. You were so excited to learn you were reading into a 9th grade level. That meant you could choose books from Z, "The END of the alphabet!" but the look on your face when you found out books in Z were "SO boring" was priceless. You love the Land of Stories books, and the Secret Series and I have loved watching you become a passionate reader and get lost in the stories- so much so that when the book was done you threw it down in disgust and yelled, "It's a CLIFFHANGER!!!UGH!!!" You know more about history than your mom. And you still love biographies and learning about famous people's lives. You got third place in the spelling bee. And you didn't cry. Not beforehand being anxious, and not after being relieved. You were nervous, but composed. So, so mature. You love a good tradition. And you love any occasion to create one. You ran the mile this year. You got off the bus and so proudly announced, "I ran the mile! It only took me 13 minutes!". You are not a fan of physical activity. You are much more comfortable huddled up with a book, or playing and giggling with a friend. You grew about a million inches. You liked to take "comfy baths" with Dr. Teals and stretch all the way out in the bathtub, because you were the perfect size to reach both ends with your head out of the water. You're quick with the wit. We are still working on looking at the bright side. You helped the homeless this year. You helped the foodless. You use the term, "When I am president..." all the time. I told you that someone offered to give you a tour of the White house and you said, "Well, I am going to live there one day!" Giraffey was still your best friend, you were loyal to him as ever, and his voice made you laugh even when you were mad. You still talk with your hands. You still get ridiculously silly when you're tired. You seem to think you're a ninja and react to tickles and hugs with karate chops. You can fix your own breakfast and pack your own backpack, and pick out your own clothes. You have entered a stage of independence, but you still want me to give you a bath, and brush your hair, and put you to bed. And all those years before, when I couldn't WAIT for you to do things on your own...I take those back. I cherish our night time routine. I love that you still ask for kisses all over your face. I love that you still want to have snuggle parties. I love that you still want me there, by your side, even though you don't actually NEED my help. Our shows have changed. Your critiques of Say yes to the dress are classics. We went and saw Star Wars and you cried because it was over. We barely watch cartoons, but every now and then I catch you settling in for a good episode of George, or Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. You love Chipotle. You like chips as much as you like candy. You're grandma's girl like that. You love pickles, tacos, and spaghetti with nothing on it. You don't like stickers, don't like loud noises, and don't like the unfamiliar. You want to know the plan way before anyone else even knows what the plan might be. But every day, your tolerance grows. We talk about real things. We have serious conversations and talk about serious feelings. And as much as I want to protect you from all the wrongs in the world, I need to help you find the armor to protect yourself. It's been so hard to watch you learn about people and wonder why they do the things they do. My heart breaks when yours hurts. But I see you work through it, and I am so, so proud that kindness is truly what rules your heart. You worry about other people's feelings, including mine. You are generous, concerned, kind, well mannered, smart, passionate, and funny. You are all the best of me and your dad and Mr. Rob wrapped up into the cutest little bundle. You cried less tears at 8. You laughed more laughs at 8. You found a level of peace at 8. 8 was really, really good to us. It's really hard to say goodbye. Truly bittersweet. But 9... The possibilities are endless. I hope you stay comfortable in your skin. I hope you still love selfies and watching yourself sing in the mirror. I hope you stay as dedicated to your cause and as loyal to your friends. So many adventures ahead. I am so blessed to be here to witness them first hand.