Mariah turns 17 today, which is a greater shock to me, I think, than it is to her. Just this past week she has gone on her first college visit, driven an unfamiliar car, calmed her brother's night-time fears, and generally acted like the grown-up she is becoming. The night she was born she seemed calm and deeply curious--she lay in Mark's arms and drank in the world around her with her blue blue eyes. She is still curious, though perhaps not always calm.
She'll get a birthday with her godmother and family this year, as well as with grandparents; I'm glad she can do that, though I know she also wants a friend-birthday, and we'll probably try to make that happen as well. Before that, though, there will be creamy pasta with mushrooms and a very chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream--the girl has good taste, I'll give her that.
This is the first time I've ever blogged on her birthday, but it shouldn't, probably, be the last: happy birthday, Mariah!