Yesterday you told me there were only five more years and two days until you can drive a car.  I'm not sure if anyone has ever told you, but we are poor.  Driving a car may not happen for you the day you turn sixteen. I'm sure some of your friends will have a new car with one of those big novelty bows attached to the hood in their driveway for their sixteenth birthday, but you most likely will not.

Instead of pouting about it, you will go out and do whatever you can to earn yourself a car.  It may take you years and you may have to put up with a lot of not so ideal jobs, but you will get yourself a car.  That's just the kind of kid you are.

I'm not sure if I ever told you this, but we are a team. A dynamic duo, if you will.  Of course I am Batman and you are Robin.  In our team, Robin always inspires Batman to be a better person.  Robin also has a bad case of "back seat driver" so Batman stopped driving him to school.  --I'm not sure where I'm going with this. I guess what I'm trying to say is we are like superheroes -- forget it, I lost it. Thanks for being an awesome sidekick.

This year you made a new friend.  It was really interesting to see your personality shine with a new person involved in your life.  Then your new friend moved away and I saw how much it affected you.  I also saw how fast you bounced back to your happy old self.  You are so good at adapting to loss and to be honest it kind of makes me sad.  I wish I could offer you more stability, but some things are beyond my control.  I mean who moves to Windsor anyway?

Your tenth year was probably one of our most difficult years ever.  During one of the hardest times, I broke and you were there patting my back and telling me not to cry.  Imagine that, Robin reassuring Batman. You lost way more than I did and you were the one most affected by the whole ordeal but yet you just frowned and moved on and still had the courage to comfort me.  I admire your strength.

I remember the hours before you were born like they were yesterday.   I remember Elton John playing on the little radio in the room.  I seem to recall a lot of Elton John songs playing that day so it was probably a CD.  Who brings an Elton John CD to a birth? Anyway, I remember having no fear that day.  Which is pretty incredible for a first time mom in that situation. I just remember knowing that everything was going to be okay.

There were monitors and beeps and dings and restrictions and little curly wire things stuck in your big old head.  Even with all those scary things, I just knew things were going to be perfect. At the time, I never imagined that a year and a half later I would be raising you on my own. Optimistic me is such a better person.  You remind me of optimistic me.  Try to hold on to that forever because it's so hard to get back. 

Lately I've been worried about what you will think of me when you're older.  For instance, if you were to go on The Ellen Show, how would you describe your mother?  I'm trying so hard to be more patient and loving so you can confidently say that you had the best mom in the whole wide world and not have to say something like she made the best cookies, she drove me to school every day, she was good at making sure I brushed my teeth, she made sure I had clean underwear.  The problem is, I'm running out of time. I can only hope that you can see through my prickly exterior and know that I love you more than anything or anyone ever.



You are still incredibly smart. It may not always show on paper, but you are smart in ways I could have never imagined.  This year I reminded you to write your letter to Santa (yes you still believe, at least you make me think you do).  I figured you went off to write one of your garbled (although very cute) handwritten notes.  You came back with a Word document complete with images of Skylanders and Minecraft items, oh and fishing gear!.  At the top it said "Dear Santa" and it had a picture of Santa. I was amazed.  You have found a way to deal with your difficulties and it is so incredibly clever.  That two page document of over-priced toys that I hate shopping for made me realize that things are not going to be as hard for you as I thought. Paper and pen is overrated sometimes anyway.

You are insanely funny.  Our cats might not think so, but what do cats know anyway?  You love Lego and Minecraft (oh, I bet you can't wait to open your gift this year...).  You love YouTubers and you talk about them like they are your best friends who are Internet famous and probably incredibly rich.  You like Skylanders (which makes my bank account weep) and you sing Taylor Swift songs (don't worry, I won't tell anyone that you're actually good at singing along).  You love Ninja Turtles, Pee Wee's Playhouse and Power Rangers, which are totally what I loved when I was a kid, so that's pretty cool!  You love video games and it's pretty cool when I let you play games that are above your age rating and you call it "my game" so I don't look like a bad mom while we browse the video game store. You still think girls are gross - except for your mom, of course.

You make me prouder and prouder every day.  Thank you for being such an amazing ten year old.

Love,
Mom.