Stylish went to bed leaving the light on in the rumpus room, so I went in to remind her to switch it off and she was writing in her diary. She invited me to sit down and she read me some entries. I was so moved when she read me the entry from the night Angus was born, it was so funny, and so joyful that I was crying happily while she read. Although I did not give her the gift of a birth, I have given her the gift of being part of a birth. I know that, should she choose to have children, they will be born at home. I'm so proud of the young woman she is, she's smart, funny, helpful, thoughtful, and she can also be the complete polar opposite of all those things but ... she's a tall kid, we expect that.
Lately she's been taking more of an interest in her appearance and her taste in clothes is quite fluid. One week she likes flowery flowing things and the next week I have to fight her to get her into anything but skinny leg jeans. I refuse to buy the hideous skinny leg things, but if she takes her pocket money to vinnies and buys them herself I grit my teeth and cope. I find myself really liking some of her clothes and really detesting other items. The amusing thing is that if we go shopping together, everything I show her is AWFUL and results in multi syllabic use of my name ("mUuUuUm, omg you're SOOOO embarrassing!") but if I bring home the same item a week later she is often grateful, and happy to try it on with 50 possible accessories.
It's funny how we love our kids little and wish they would never grow up, but at the same time we burst with pride at all their new stages.