Editor's note: Mike DeMattos' wife, Francesca, again commandeered the word processor for a special addition to the Family Album.

Once, when my daughter was 4 years old, she sat as she watched me getting dressed.

"Mommy, when can I get my ears pierced?" she asked.

"When you are 10 years old," I told her, then went on about that special day when my mother and auntie took me to get my ears pierced.

From that moment, she's been counting the days.

Now, in a month, that same little girl is going to be turning 10. It amazes me how quickly this day has come.

I remember many nights reading bedtime stories before I tucked her into bed for the night. Lately, we sit in bed and discuss plans for her special day.

I reminisce about my 10th birthday and how I was so excited. I was on my way to becoming a grownup. I imagine that my daughter is feeling the same way.

As I look back, I realize that getting my ears pierced was a way to mark the next stage of my development. I'm not sure if my mother meant this event to be a rite of passage or not, but it has become one of my fondest childhood memories. In fact, on this day my mother, aunty and I talked about life, love and family. My mother emphasized how important it was for me to be my own person and believe in myself and my dreams.

I've always pictured myself saying these same words of wisdom to my daughter as she listens with her newly pierced ears.

When I was 10, I started to notice gradual changes. I found myself straddling two different worlds. At family gatherings, I played in the yard with my little cousins, but I also was included in conversations with my aunties.

I started to look more like them with my earrings on, sitting around the kitchen table.

Our talks were about clothes, shopping, and our feelings about life.

In fact, just the other day, I noticed this happening with my daughter. I sat in the living room talking to one of her aunties and my daughter came and joined us. She asked what we were talking about and I replied, "Girl stuff." She smiled and sat down.

She asked questions about growing up and what it was like being her age. I remember taking special note of this moment. It was now my daughter's turn, she was beginning her journey into the adult world, but was still my little girl.

This past month, my daughter sits with her little notebook as she plans her 10th birthday. She will have two celebrations, one with her friends and one with her family.

The party for her friends is her responsibility. She has made the invitations, planned the menu, activities (no longer games, as she reminded me) and a schedule of the evening. My little organizer has been hard at work. She has this party planned and ready to happen.

On the other hand, the celebration with family is my responsibility, one that I have taken on willingly and fondly. I have my notebook out and I am busy writing down ideas and plans. Now it is my turn.

A little box of earrings patiently waits for my daughter. The day is soon approaching and I am excited for both of us.

My only hope is that this day will be as memorable for her as it was for me.