One

Before Maddie was born, my mother had a dream about her future granddaughter.  I was mid-way through my pregnancy and knee-deep in envisioning what my daughter would someday be like.  Who would she look like? What would she smell like? Would she be happy or fussy or somewhere in between? Would she be gifted with our best qualities or cursed with our worst? 

It's a conversation we'd have often- a guessing game with no real right answer, other than to have a healthy baby girl.

In her dream, my mother's reverie painted the picture of a free-spirited blondie- a girly-girl twirling her skirt, dancing barefoot on the grass; with not a care in the world. She called me the next morning to share her predictions of my little one- giggling to herself as she imagined this carefree foil to my very tightly wound self. I think it made her the perfect combination of both nervous for me and slightly satisfied- the way grandmothers can sometimes feel when their daughter's first discover what it's like to grapple with their own children's personalities. {Some might call it karma.}

And it made me somewhat nervous too, at the time.

I'm anxious. I plan. I worry, and think about consequences. I'm not carefree; but rather, I'm filled with care- to the brim, in fact. But I also don't put too much weight on dreams, so I logged this prediction with the other myriad possibilities we had discussed. 

On June 12, 2015 we met that little dream girl. 

And just like that, she's turning one- in just a few short days.

And after twelve months of knowing her, I can say my mother was right- so far as I can tell:

Maddie's blonde. And barefoot- almost always- if she has anything to do with it. She grins and dances and plays music with anything she can get her hands on. She's girly, and carefree and wildly happy. And it's contagious. Thankfully so. Because while my mother was right about that little girl in her dream, we were wrong about what that would mean for a Type A like myself. 

Luckily, being her mother has changed me.

Yes, I'm still careful and responsible. I'll always be a planner; and I struggle with anxieties from time to time. As I likely always will.

But that little girl rubbed off on me- big; her happiness and spirit both palpable and infectious. And in order to enjoy every second of it I learned, quickly, to let go of the things about motherhood, and life, that I will never be able to control. Because, you see, there's little time for analyzing consequences or obsessing over minutia when you're so in love with a tiny human.. And the desire to preserve her spirit outweighed my Type A tendencies from the first day I laid eyes on her. Ironically, being her mom has made me a little more carefree; a truth that I never would have guessed. And in letting go, my first year with my girl was filled with much more dancing in the grass than worry. Most often barefoot.

Happy birthday, my soulmate. Thank you for smiling and dancing and never wearing socks; and for teaching your mama to be a little more like you.