Happy Birthday, Miranda

Miranda turned 26 yesterday. I've been a mother 26 years. Motherhood changes us from essentially self-centered beings to loving, nurturing, protective, proud, mother lions.

Miranda has been so easy to love from birth. First, she was beautiful. How's that for great luck. Second she was smart, even greater luck. Third, she was a self-starting, creative, enthusiastic, strong, go-getter of a kid. She dove herself into whatever was at hand: a terrifying spelling bee at the Eagle Rock mall when she was 6, a poetry contest at Dutton's bookstore (won honorable mention) at 8, then swimming, gymnastics, art, and theatre. She mastered everything she approached. And she carried on this way through middle school and high school. I could go on but it would be a brag instead of a blog, and she'd probably hate it. And it would be boring except to me.

What was terrific though, was that that while Miranda was inspired, she wasn't driven. She could have fun while working. She could play while competing. She could party in the midst of studying for SATs or while writing a paper. She loved the chase and the achievement, but kept her feet on the ground and never has been too impressed by herself. In fact, she's always had the normal insecurities we all have, able to be realistic about her strengths and her short comings.

Maybe most importantly, Miranda is a really lovely person. A good person. A nice person. She confesses her resentment of her brother with such honesty, that you realize that resentment only makes one less of a person if you deny it. Miranda might reel off a list of less than stellar qualities, but her insight just makes one admire her more. Miranda, the name, comes from the Latin "to be admired."

We chose the name because Gearey had long loved the character Miranda, the daughter of Prospero in The Tempest. "The sweetest heroine in all of Shakespeare," he said. And we chose her name, because Miranda goes so nicely with McLeod. We didn't think about the Miranda ruling (which requires the police to warn a person who has been taken into custody of his/her rights to remain silent and to have legal counsel) nor were we aware that Miranda is a moon of the planet Uranus. I think we just blocked out Carmen Miranda.

I love the woman Miranda has become at age 26. She's remained beautiful and intelligent and hard-working--a thoughtful being, a devoted friend, and a loving daughter. And now she has grown and become a writer, one with a unique and powerful voice; she is an exquisite observer, who watches for and captures the wonder and the absurdity of day to day existence. In naming our daughter "one who is worthy of being admired," we could not have chosen more accurately.

So, Happy Birthday, Miranda. I love you more than words can convey. I hope this year brings you closer to peace and to fulfulling your dreams.