She does her own hair.
All by herself.
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Last year on this day, I cried because I couldn’t believe my baby had grown into a fourteen-year-old.
Today I am crying because she would rather have cake and ice cream with Andrea than with me.
Maybe she forgot, but 15 years ago today, I suffered for more hours than I’d like to remember (with nary an aspirin!) to give that child life. In fact, I should probably remind her that the roadmap of stretch marks on my belly are ALL BECAUSE OF HER. And the gray hairs now sprouting up on my head (just a few, okay)? Most likely HER. And the fact that I can never find my nail clippers when I need them? DEFINITELY HER.
Maybe she’ll have cake with me tomorrow.