I try to never do the “you’re growing up so fast” or “I can’t believe it has been 11 years!” type stuff. And not going to do it here either – it’s math so it’s easy to believe. I will say though that it is very weird having an eleven year old. Makes me feel really old, but also scared.
You are still the sweetest most loving and supportive daughter a dad could ask for. Just the other day I came down dressed up for the first time in forever and while mom made fun of my shirt, you greeted me with “Daddy, you look so handsome.” You are easily my biggest fan, and the smile and joy you bring to me daily I will never be able to properly thank you for. Every day when you get home you come to my office upstairs and give me a hug and tell me about your day. Every night when you go to bed and I kiss you goodnight you tell me how much you love me. I know it won’t stay this way as you get older, but I am enjoying every second of it while I can. It is hard for me to even imagine us not being as close as we have been your entire life, and I am going to do everything possible to keep it that way.
Activities
My god you are an active kid. As I write this you are still doing jazz, ballet, soccer and piano. This summer you will start up swim again, and this is the first year you will also be doing some camps on a regular basis (dance, art, and others). You have also really solidified your friend group and have play dates all the time which adds to your busy schedule, but you love it. We got a tetherball setup for Christmas, and your mom and I will play for hours with you. We are basically your hired drivers right now – and it is wonderful. I still take you to school every day and pick you up from dance every time you go. Mom takes you to soccer practice, but we make it to all your games. I assume that over time you will begin to eliminate certain activities and focus your efforts, but I am always so impressed that while you can be a reserved individual in many situations you are still adventurous and put yourself in new and uncomfortable situations so frequently. I would bet the next time I post you will have picked up a new hobby and can’t wait to see what it is.
Ticks
Well, unfortunately, not all my genetics are ones that I wish to pass on. One of the bigger ones is that I grew up with ticks, and you are exhibiting the same in a very real way over the last 6 months. You have had them in the past, but not to this degree.
Growing up I had a bunch. I would count a lot in my head, if I touched something with one hand I would need to do it with the other, would move my head in weird ways sometimes – among other tendencies. The big one I had to deal with was my blinking. I would blink to a crazy degree – sometimes just one eye, sometimes both. Sometimes it would be fast blinking and sometimes it would be one eye and then the other for an extended period of time. Other kids would notice and ask me about it which made it worse, and was something that I did get made fun of for at times. What I never shared with anyone was the counting (actually, never shared that with anyone until about 2 years ago when I was 38 and I told your mom for the first time). I can do crazy math in my head very quickly I think do to the counting I have been doing in my mind my entire life. I have learned to control things much better as I have aged, but as a child I couldn’t control it nearly as well.
You are exhibiting the same tendencies now. Your big ones right now are movements with your mouth, stretching it out or even making noises. The other one is the need to look left or right in a very noticeable way and on a frequent basis. You tell us that you can’t control it and that you “have to do it.” This has been very hard for your mom to comprehend because she never experienced ticks, but I can easily relate. I was tested for tourettes when I was young and it came back negative, which was the only silver lining growing up.
In an effort to help we are getting you a counselor for you to talk to and can hopefully help introduce you to some coping mechanisms. Because I kept it to myself for my whole life I never received the help I needed, but since I can see it in you and relate we are going to see how we can help. You are also open to the help, going so far as asking us to help you. The thing to remember is that this is not a disease, nor is it that big of a deal, but it can feel like it when others point it out. I hate that I passed this on to you, but hope that because I understand it can provide more assistance than perhaps those that never experienced it could. Will keep you posted on the progress.
Chess
This might be hard to believe because I am such a cool guy :), but when I was in elementary school I was the captain of the chess club. I love chess, everything about it. The strategy, the planning (you have already learned that I am the planner in the family), the competition and the strain on intellect that it requires. This love for chess I am happy to say I also passed on to you. You and I play chess at least a couple times a week, and you took to it immediately. In fact, as I sit here you are the only one in the house to ever beat me.
You took me down a couple months ago. I did not take it easy on you (you will learn I never let you guys win on purpose, just ask your brother), and you full on outsmarted me. While I was blown away and took a major hit to my ego getting beat by a 10 year old, I could not have been more proud. You beat your mom on a regular basis, and you are getting better each time we play. I have tried to get you to join chess club but for some reason that is one activity you are not interested in participating at school or in a group setting. Regardless, it is one of my favorite activities to do with you. It is great bonding time and so fulfilling to see you improve. I hope when you read this when you are 18 we are still playing – by then I am sure you will be beating me more than I beat you.
Layla
I save this for last because it is still hard for me to think about let alone write about. On January 3rd of this year I had to put Layla down. She was nearly 12 1/2 years old when it happened – and it was honestly the hardest thing I have ever had to do.
Over the last 3 or so years you have really fell in love with Layla. The first 8 years of your life you always liked Layla and would play with her, but I would say around 8 or 9 you fell in love with Layla. You would just sit and pet her for hours while watching a show or even reading. You took her for walks, would feed her many of her meals, would get her birthday presents and throw her parties. You were so in tune with how she was feeling, and you never wanted to go anywhere without her. You insisted we take her camping every time we went rather than have her watched, and when we did go on vacations where she couldn’t come you would insist on facetiming her to say hi every day. It was the coolest thing to watch – and also the most heartbreaking thing to see when we had to let her go.
She lived an incredible life. We met her when she was 4 weeks old (well before you were born) and took her home at 8 weeks. By the time you came around she was already 1.5 years old. When you were a baby she didn’t really know what to do with you, and it really took until you were older to really bond with her, but you sure did it. The amount of memories I have of her are too many to count, and with the exception of the scary moments when she was hurt or scared (or she wouldn’t let her tennis ball go in the river and I had to jump in after her) they were all amazing. But my favorite memories were of you and her. You loved her so much which just made my heart so full when she was around, and ache so badly when we had to let her go.
The only good part about it was the decision was made easy for us. She developed bone cancer and lost the use of her back left leg. She still had a smile, but her energy was sapped and she basically just laid around all day. This happened on a Sunday while we were in Sun Valley, and I thought maybe she had just pulled a muscle or something. On Tuesday when we got back I took her to the vet and they gave me the news, that she had bone cancer and the only option was to amputate the leg and begin radiation. At her age the chances of her surviving the surgery were minimal, and the thought of her losing a leg meant she would be living a terrible life. The only good thing was that we got a few more days with her after the diagnosis. Telling you was the hardest news I have ever had to deliver. You did your best to be brave as you do – but it was clear it was killing you. I made the appointment for that Friday to put her down, so we did get 3 days with her. On that Friday it was scheduled for 10am, and around 9:30 you had to say goodbye. We all cried and gave her all the love we could. You, mom and Ethan stayed at the house and I took her in. They made her incredibly comfortable, gave her the medicine, and she drifted off peacefully as I held her. I stayed in that room and cried as hard as I ever had.
There is just something about a dog. As I wrote earlier about how you are so supportive and love me so much, I got it even more from Layla as only a dog can do. There was never a day that I came home where she wasn’t waiting for me at the door and excited to see me. There was never a day when she was mad at me, judged me, questioned me, criticized me or did anything other than love me above everything else. She got me through so many tough times, where she could just sense something was wrong and would come sit at my feet or snuggle up next to me. She was my best friend in the world, and life is less without her. It has been two months and I am still crying as I write this and look at a picture I have of her on my mantle in my office. I don’t regret getting her and having the time I did with her – but I genuinely miss her every single day and life is not the same without her. I am so grateful for the time I had with her and the joy she brought into all our lives. I know we will get another dog, but none will ever live up to Layla. I am just so happy that you got the time with her that you did.
Wrapping it up
I almost wish I had some things that I could say that doesn’t paint such a rosy picture of life with you, that I had something to say about you other than how great and perfect you are – but I don’t. I feel so luck to have this spirited, happy, beautiful, amazing child named Harper. Every day with you is better than the last, and I am doing my best to enjoy every moment. You and I have a special bond that I hope we can keep forever and I promise to do everything I can to make that a reality. You just keep being you.
I love you more than all the world.
Love, Dad
