Today is one of my favorite days. It’s my beloved firstborn Isabella’s birthday, meaning it’s also my 27th anniversary at the greatest job I’ve ever had.

I love birthdays, my own and everyone else’s, and I especially love to celebrate those of my three favorite humans…always have. I vividly remember Isabella’s first birthday. She wore a sailor suit dress with a matching hat reminiscent of the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. She ate her cake so delicately; there was not a single picture of her smashing cake in her face or of her hair covered in blue frosting. (Her sister Olivia would make up for this two years later on her first birthday when she wore more cake than she ate.)

I thought I remembered all of her birthdays vividly, but just yesterday when we were FaceTiming on the eve of her birthday, she shared how devastated she was to turn 10. Apparently, she wasn’t ready to be double digits. To mark the occasion, she wrote the darkest, four-verse song I’ve ever heard. She sang it for us on the FaceTime, and it was like the saddest Joni Mitchell tune (think Both Sides Now, the “Love Actually” version) coming out of an almost 10-year-old mind and performed by an almost 27-year-old. It was glorious. The 17-year gap between the occasion and the retelling of the tale made it absolutely hilarious. (I of course had to video the moment, which I’ve rewatched at least a dozen times, laughing more with each viewing.)

She went on to tell us that on the night before she turned 10, she sang the song for my mom, who told her to write it down, and assured her that she (my mother) was going to get Isabella onto American Idol. Everything about this birthday story made my heart smile. I loved that Isabella turned to writing to express her angst (even if it did lean a little Sylvia Plath). When she told us about telling my mom, I felt like I got a minute back of my mom’s life that I never knew about. What a gift that was. I loved that nearly 27-year-old Isabella could laugh about how dramatic her nearly 10-year-old self was. And I loved the reminder that my mom thought my girls could do anything. She wasn’t wrong.

Facebook memories remain one of the few things I love about the app, particularly when it shares birthday memories. Seeing the pictures of the time we surprised Isabella with a birthday breakfast at home (she loves breakfast more than other meal) with a dozen of her friends makes me smile. As does the video of the time when she was in college, and I showed up unannounced at her favorite restaurant, meeting her and her group of friends with her favorite cake (a box yellow sheet cake covered with a tub of Betty Crocker milk chocolate frosting, still her favorite to this day).

Now that Isabella lives in Hawaii, it’s a little bit harder to surprise her and show up unannounced, cake in hand. But that doesn’t make me want to celebrate her any less, particularly this year. Her 26th year on this earth was not without its challenges, both personally and professionally, and navigating those challenges when your family is 5,000 miles and six time zones away isn’t easy. Nevertheless, she persisted.

I asked her how she was feeling on the eve of this birthday, and was thankful that there were no dark songs written. Quite the opposite. She said she viewed her birthday as a personal New Year’s Day. A fresh start. An opportunity to leave all that was bad or hurtful or negative behind and to start anew, refusing to bring it into the next year. A clean sheet. What a perfect lens with which to view the coming year! Totally stealing this idea.

Then she asked what I thought about her coming year. I told her I saw nothing but great things. She got through so much, and came out better because of it. This past year, she started her own business. While borne out of what seemed like a crisis at the time became a great blessing. I’m so incredibly proud of her and what she has built. She helps people achieve their personal goals every day. I see what she does, and I am in awe because she is doing something I know I never could.

As a mother, you learn so much from your firstborn. It’s literal on-the-job training, often at the expense of your child. While you are experiencing the beauty of unconditional love for the first time, you are more rigid and more clueless than you are with any subsequent children. It’s hard to argue with the inequities. Like many firstborns, Isabella tells stories of how strict we were with her, and how easy we were with Sophia, her youngest sibling. She’s not wrong; I’m not even sure if we had a car seat for Sophia. And I know for a fact there was no boiling of bottle parts.

And for that, my beloved firstborn, I apologize. Despite the cruel and unusual punishments you endured of not being allowed to charge your phone overnight in your room, me calling the parents of any friend who was having a party before agreeing you could attend, and never letting you miss a day of school, I think you turned out pretty amazing. You also have the best baby books out of your sisters by a long shot. So, you’re welcome.

You have been a gift to me since the moment I learned of your existence, and you continue to be to this day. I am so excited, Isabella, for your personal new year because I know there is nothing but good things ahead for you. So while it’s your birthday, I feel like I am the one who got the present as I am forever grateful for the gift you continue to be in my life every day. I love you. Happy birthday, and happy personal New Year’s Day sweet girl.