The One In The Middle Just Might Be A Green Kangaroo

Middle Daughter was born four days late according to my OB's calculations, and three weeks late according to mine. (yes, I did get a mite cranky. I finally just showed up at the hospital and told them I wasn't leaving until I wasn't pregnant anymore)

She didn't take her first step until after her first birthday, her teeth came in slowly, she was still nearly bald on her first birthday. She took so long to talk that we had her assessed by a speech therapist twice. She had a soother until we registered for Junior Kindergarten. She was six before she stopped calling the Oldest "Sissy". She didn't lose all of her baby teeth until the last ones were finally pulled when she was 13.

It seems fitting, then, that I blog about her 14th birthday a full week after the fact.

What can I say about this amazing, wonderous child? This one, the one that never got to be “first” or “only”, the one that was only rescued from being the “the baby” by the arrival of her younger sister. True story: When I took her to register for Junior Kindergarten, she was just about four years old. As we walked toward the building, she popped her soother out of her mouth and said, “You can put me down now Mom. I’m big enough to walk in there by myself.”

If middle children are supposed to march to a different beat, then she has fulfilled that prophecy. But she’s never faded into the crowd of our family, never been in danger of being forgotten in the shuffle. This is because HER particular beat has been impossible to ignore.

When she was eleven and a half months old – not yet walking alone – she climbed the ladder up to the garage roof because she wanted to see what Daddy was doing up there.

When she was four, she took ten years off my life by disappearing off the front porch and being missing for 20 minutes. (she was down the street eating a cookie on someone else’s front porch)

When she was five, I helped co-ordinate an activity day for 250 Sparks, Brownies and Guides at the local camp. There was a 1:5 adult-child ratio. Guess which kid got lost?

When she was nine, I was called to the school because she got injured when she wandered into the line of fire when one kid threw something at another kid.

When she was 12, she took her new goldfish to Scouts for Show ‘n’ Tell. In a cereal bowl. In December. On foot.

The same year, she made three separate trips to the emergency room after experiencing adventurous activities like taking out the garbage and getting her baseball glove down off the shelf.

Her birthday has always been shared with something – Easter, her sister’s confirmation, her own confirmation, OM fundraising events. Or overshadowed by something – the Waco tragedy, the Oklahoma City bombing.

While she seemed to do everything else slowly, (Queen of the 40 Minute Showers, that’s her!) her mind moved faster than most. She learned to read when she was three. I have no idea how that happened. She completed fourth and fifth grade in one year.

She still doesn’t know whether she wants to be an astronaut, a pharmacist, or a used-car salesman. She’s toyed with learning to play the guitar, learning to sketch, and learning to sew. She has nine pictures of herself displayed in her bedroom and counts how many compliments she gets on her hair on any given day.

She takes three times as long to walk home from anywhere as her sisters do, but has a surprising knack for baseball. There are weeks where I wonder if she’s eaten anything but macaroni and cheese.

If my oldest taught me everything I know about parenting, then this middle girl of mine taught me everything I don’t know. I haven’t come across a parenting book yet that has been of any use at all in raising this child. She’s been the reminder and the proof that there is no “formula” to child-rearing.

Like all my girls, she is kind, and generous, and generally enthusiastic. But she harbours a zen-like approach to life that is by turns awesome and frightening. If she’s ever worried about anything, I’ve never noticed.

She is our family’s “glue”, the one that can always find the silver lining, the one that mastered dry wit at six, the one that alternately frustrates and amazes us. And I suppose that’s the perfect place to find the glue – right in the middle, holding us all together.

Happy Birthday Baby!

Comments

[Dorothy]

awww...she sounds like an angel. Stop laughing! I mean it. She's making up for lost time and zooming her way to success. Watch and see!

[stephanie]

Hehe, so she is a normal teen. Happy Birthday!

[mom]

What a great tribute to such an interesting child. We have so many stories about her -my favorite is the day when she was about 3 that she was trying to figure out how to get up to the chandelier. We are so lucky to have her in our family ! Love ya both ! .....Mom

[Jenn]

She sounds disturbingly like me ... except the silver lining part. Me, I'm looking for the black humour in every situation.

[Jenn PB]

I have always thought that she is one of a kind, she will carve her own path wherever she goes in life.

[Kira]

What a gorgeous picture.