Birthday love for my other special child

Yesterday, Sabrina told me what to buy for her birthday party at school: four boxes of donuts. "OK, so you want donut holes?" I asked. "Yes, mostly," she informed me. And then, using her fingers for emphasis, she listed the amount to pick up: "TWO boxes of powdered sugar donut holes, ONE box of chocolate holes and ONE box of mini donuts. Got it?" 

I had to smile, because it's just one of the many things that is special about Sabrina: She knows exactly what she wants. Today is her 9th birthday. Last night, we lay in bed together and I told her all about the day when she was born: That the doctors kept delaying the delivery (I'd had a C-section scheduled for the morning but kept getting bumped by emergency ones), that I got so bored in the hospital I threatened to leave and see a movie, how when she finally emerged before midnight Dave was so awed all he could think to say was, "Her fingernails are so long!"

I know one day Sabrina will read the blog (if you are reading this now, honey, go do your homework!) and I want her to know that although it's focused on kids with special needs, she is every bit as special. 

Sabrina's a can-do child. The day after we had the Girl Scouts Cookie sales sheet in hand, she hauled me out to go door to door; she's determined to get one of the big prizes. (Last year, she cleverly asked if I'd be interested in ordering another 1800 boxes of cookies so she could get an iPad.) Recently, she reorganized and rearranged her room, because she wanted it to look better. My mother might recall the time when she left my sister and me home alone and I convinced Judy to yank up all the carpeting in our room, which I thought was ugly, and bring it to the trash. 

Sabrina's taught herself how to make all kinds of Rainbow Loom creations (an entire glove!) and drawings just by watching YouTube videos. She's taking violin and jazz dance, and she's good at them. She likes demonstrating the routine she's learning for her dance recital when we're in the kitchen. Or she'll put on some music and bop around the living room alone, making up moves. I'm not supposed to look, but I do.   

"Mommy, I played that really well, didn't I?" she'll ask after she's finished a piece. I love that she knows it.   

She's recently gotten into reading; the Magic Tree House books hooked her. She also likes biographies, particularly ones from the Who Was series. I'm particularly proud of her newfound love of books. I was a library geek as a kid; I used to take out 10 books a week, and plow through them. I told that to Sabrina once and she called my mom to make sure it was true. 

Some days I feel like she is far older because she's so precocious. The other day, I sighed a deep sigh after I hung with (what else?) the insurance company and she noted, "Every day is a different stress!" And yet, as mature as she's getting, she is still plenty delicious; I like to nibble on her cheeks and dimpled hands. Her hair has beautiful auburn highlights, the kind women pay a lot of money for at salons, and she has a spectacular splash of freckles across the bridge of her nose and her cheeks. Did I mention the cheeks? Yum. When she smiles her entire face lights up. I got that look yesterday when I served lunch at her school, and it put me on a mommy high.

Sometimes, other moms ask if we ever hesitated to have a second child because of the trauma we went through with Max. We never once did. We both love children, and couldn't wait to have another. We couldn't have imagined how special she'd be.