Proud of My Gurl

This is my firstborn:

She is amazing.  And these are just a few of the things I love about her:

  • She is crazy smart.  The deeper you dig, the more intelligence you discover.  But she isn't flashy or pomp-ass (my preferred spelling because if you ask me, that's what the word really means) about it - unless you happen to be her ten year-old younger brother.  If that's the case, I'm sorry to tell you, all bets are off.
  • I love that the brainliness doesn't solely relate to books, facts and figures.  She has "street smarts."  She thinks outside the box.  She thinks fast and on her feet.  She figures.things.out.  And her  memory!  Holy mental camera, she has a memory as sharp as a scalpel.  Just don't ask her to open a door if her arms are full.  This is apparently her Achilles heel.  She has never been able to figure this one out.  Overall, however, she has a really good head on her shoulders.
  • She has my sense of humour.  Has it down.  Some people might think this isn't such a good thing.  I could not possibly love this more.  I feel like I have an ally in my own bizarre little corner of the universe.  We're on the same wavelength.  We connect.  We get it.  Poor Daddy.  Poor WORLD!  (Muahhahahahahaaaaa!)
  • I don't think I've ever known anybody with the self-confidence she possesses.  Not without being, as aforementioned, pomp-ass.  Or a dreaded prince-ass.  Or, heaven forbid, a plain old ass.  She is strong and sure of herself, yet gentle enough to weep over the passing of pet goldfish.  She isn't too caught up in what other people think - which is one of the things I admittedly admire above all else in people.
  • She very, very, rarely complains.  This astounds me.  I didn't think it was possible for a teenager NOT to whine and complain on a near-constant basis.  Work is not an issue for her - she just does it.  She's independent and gets the job done.
  • Her sense of style is brilliant as far as I'm concerned.  I've said it before and I'll say it again:  I did not GET that "style gene."  She did, and I think it is just the greatest thing.  She had to teach herself everything - I'm useless when it comes to such things as hair and makeup and clothing and basically anything that will improve one's appearance ... in any way.  Yeah, I look skerry.  Boo - gnashgnash.  Fear me.  Rawr.
  • And finally - she crashes into parked cars.

Okay, maybe that isn't one of the "love abouts."  And no . . not really a "crash."  She's brand new to the world of driving, with a shiny new permit that practically smells like a freshly-unwrapped shower curtain.  And, as happens when one is learning - one makes mistakes.  She made a mistake today.  Not a very large one, by my standards - especially when giant motorized potential death machines are involved.  She scraped against the side mirror of a parked car - causing NO damage to it in the process.  My girl has luck on her side, that's for sure.  It did break our own, but I can live with that.  The entire experience, however, shook her up, and shook her up badly.  And she said something that just about made my knees buckle beneath me.  She declared, "That was the scariest thing that's ever happened to me in my entire life!" 

I almost cried.

She has a faint idea of some of the, erm . . . "bad situations" I endured as a child.  But she really doesn't know.  And I thank God for that.  And I thank God that this 15 and a half year-old teenager found a minor car scrape the scariest experience of her life.  Fifteen and a half years of blissful joy is all I can see in such a statement.  Surely this means I must have done SOMEthing right in there, somewhere???  Provided protection and stability?  Clung to her ankles?  So the next time the loathsome thought enters my head that my children would be better off without me . . . well . . . I'll know that such a thought is just ridicul-ass.

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