All Grown Up

This is my daughters twelfth birthday weekend; she came into our world on one of the sunniest, warmest days of the year on Sunday 7^th May. I remember hanging out the baby clothes to dry, because I had to quickly wash them all as she arrived unexpectedly, 3 weeks early. In contrast, today is only six degrees and its blooming freezing.

All parents come out with the old “don’t know where the time has gone” line, but it is true. Seems like yesterday we were cleaning up baby vomit, spending all our money at Mothercare or sterilising milk bottles and suddenly we now have a young woman about to start secondary school.

Her birthday treat tonight is a proper slap up Chinese meal at a restaurant, followed by some sleepover chaos at our house. Of course, with her impeccable timing she announced on Thursday evening that she didn’t have anything to wear. Cue frantic shopping trip yesterday and a £60 dress and a new pair of shoes, which to be honest wasn’t in my budgeting plans. Combined with her extortionate list of sleepover requirements – Strawberries, Raspberries, Cream, Hot chocolate, Crepes, Waffles, Syrup, Chocolate Spread, Fresh Orange Juice, Face Masks, Popcorn etc – I am now financially crippled. Given her current insistence, I can only imagine what her “rider” would be like if she is ever famous. Probably Vintage Champagne, Caviar and hand crafted chocolates with someone to serve it to her on a silver platter.

Changed days from my birthday parties. First off, you only ever got one now and then if you were lucky. I have great memories of late 70’s birthday teas at my grandmas house though. Home made scones, fairy cakes, jelly moulds, ice-cream, sausage rolls and sandwiches were the order of the day. I can even see the old brown and orange plates in my minds eye with the plastic tumblers and diluting tartrazine filled orange juice. Oh we knew how to party back then.

I can also just about remember being twelve myself. I went abroad for the first time to my beloved Majorca in 1982, got the Aston Villa away strip for my birthday (not because I supported them, just cause it was a smart top) and spent a lot of time snogging girls. Crap, that must mean my beloved little angel is probably hanging round snogging boys. Time to get that big stick out of the shed.

In fact the next few years are the ones I’m dreading as a parent. Four years ago she was eight, in four years time she’ll be sixteen. We are on the cusp of a huge swing. Daddy’s little girl has almost gone and that makes me sad. I guess I always want her to be the eight year old but all I can now hope for is to help her grow into a responsible adult. Although, I’m not quite sure I’ve even managed that myself yet.