A Quarter of a Century Old

Mallory is, by far, the most well-rounded and thoughtful person I know. I normally try not to make sweeping statements like that about people, but she’s my kid and there is no one in the world who has been as close to me. While I realize it takes two people to make a baby I can still say, unequivocally, that she is mine and mine alone. Those are just the facts and not a sentimental statement. She was the beginning of my single parenthood and what she taught me, in raising her, is that I could do this mothering thing and that I could be flawed and make mistakes yet still produce an amazing child.

She is no longer a child. Today she turns 25 and she has the things many adults have: a college degree, an artistically creative and fulfilling career, a home she bought with her boyfriend of 10 years (TEN YEARS), incredibly wonderful friends, and a dog named Louie. Not that many adults have dogs named Louie, nor do they have one that I can only describe as a gas-station-abandoned-dog-that-turned-into-a-frat-house-dog before settling into their home. You know what I mean.

I’ve been writing for almost 7 years and have chronicled much of her latter teenage years and college life, but I stopped doing that so much. At some point, she just needs to live and not have her mother constantly blog about her. It’s up to her to create her legacy now but I will still offer the occasional OH, MY GOD SHE IS JUST DIVINE posts. There will never be any HOLY CRAP, SHE’S A PAIN IN THE NECK posts because she really never is. I don’t expect she’ll start misbehaving now.

She likes it when I write about her. I did it when she was 20 I’ve done it a few other times, too. I like it when she teases me and when she shares new music artists with me and that we find the same kind of entertainment funny. She can talk about design or race or politics or how much she loves her family or how she gets Rice Krispie treats stuck in her keyboard or down her shirt with equal aplomb. And she makes the very best personal yet funny Christmas cards that I’ve seen. Plus, she wins at getting meaningful gifts and is generous with them even though she pulls out the camera to catch me at the very moment I’m going to cry when I open a present from her. The more excited she is about that, the more I know I am going to weep at how great and expressive the gift will be. Sometimes, though, she tricks me into telling her what presents I’ve gotten her. Interesting kid, she is.

One time, a few years ago, I posted some pictures of her that I thought were darling and got this horrible troll who just got mean and nasty and said that people with good looking kids were dumb for bragging on their kids. I tried deleting it before Mallory saw the comment, but she saw it anyway.

“Other people think I’m pretty, mom? That’s great. I thought it was just you and that you were doing that instill-confidence-in-your-child thing. How cool!”

“I know, kiddo. Sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry. Anyway, she must be really ugly inside. I feel sorry for her.”

“Yep. You’re supposed to.”

So, without feeling bad about it, I am here to show you how beautiful my daughter is in photos. In person and in her character, she is 100 times more gorgeous.

Spring pictures during her college years.

Family gathered around a new baby. Aunt Tammy is there, too, and she was the greatest confidante Mallory had as a child. When I wanted to advise her and she didn’t listen to me I just told Tammy what I wanted to say and she said it instead. As expected, Mallory totally went along with it so long as Tammy said it.

I refuse to apologize for putting her in overalls as a child. She was stinking adorable in them.

One time, Mallory found some old jeans and a sweater that I wore in high school and decided to wear them. I was shocked at how much like me at that age she looked. Equally as shocking is that I still had that Liz Claiborne sweater, but I loved it SO.

These are the easiest shots to capture of Mallory because she laughs easily.

As always, she is happy. I’m damn proud of helping to foster that.

This is from a birthday a few years ago and her brothers are actually taller than that now. She hates that, but it doesn’t stop her from bossing them around or wrestling with them. My money is usually on her.

When the swine flu epidemic was out she got sick (just a generic virus) and we had to wears masks at the doctor’s office. This is a great time for a photo op! Yay! I’m pretty sure I’m smiling behind my mask because I’m an idiot.

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I can’t remember who took this picture but it wasn’t me because that’s part of my body standing behind her. Whoever did it got one of my favorite faces she makes.

Hot and sweaty at the State Fair one year. That’s the glow coming off of us.

Even when she met her sister Maddie we realized Mallory was the shortest person in the family. NOT. MY FAULT.

Mallory’s the kind of granddaughter who can go see her gramma in a production of The Vagina Monologues and not flinch.

The most recent picture of the kids at the City Museum in St. Louis when we dropped off Mason at the airport. I took pictures early because I knew we’d be weepy messes by the end of the day. I was right.

Another one at the City Museum that sums up what happens when children grow up. They just keep walking away from you. But the good news is that, as a mom, you get to watch them from behind and feel confident that they will be alright.

This one is in my Top Ten Mallory Pictures folder. I think it’s the 1950s vibe from the dress.

All I can do is thank you for the life, the love, the clutter and delight and grace you have brought to my soul. Happy birthday, Mal. You’re doing everything right.