daddy’s girl
October 22, 2011 § Leave a comment
Her laughter bubbles from a place of genuine joy and spills recklessly, absorbing observers and drawing them into a smile. She is her father’s daughter. His laugh is as infectious as it is spontaneous, ricocheting off the walls with rapid fire guffaws.
She sails across the boundaries of restraint eager and animated. Whimsy and mischief follow her in search of adventure. He leaps into action, driven by curiosity unhindered by caution.
Her features are expressive, her thoughts and emotions an open book. His face is a story of humor and worry as he navigates business and play. I read volumes as I watch them both.
Her heart is as large as her smile, her emotions fragile. I guide her firmly, but with frequent hugs and reassurance. He is deceptively strong, secretly sensitive. I hold both their hands and listen closely for hurt; mindful that despite their strength and humor they require extra care.
these boots were made for talkin’
October 1, 2011 § Leave a comment
For years my daughter favored an inexpensive pair of black mary jane dress shoes. So well-loved were her shoes that she would fill in scratches with a black permanent marker until we were forced to replace them in a new size. Recently, my daughter has outgrown old favorites, creating a new experience.
Not one for shopping, I appealed to my daughter’s love of playing dress-up and we set out to try on new favorites. I met my match in creative opposition over a pair of shiny, black knee-high boots that seemed to scream “not old enough.” I am sure my daughter heard my doubts clamoring noisily in my head.
Stubborn, she stuffed her feet and baggy pants into the boots and paraded around the display tables. Eyes sparkling, she gauged my reaction, clearly anticipating a no. Instead, I countered and caught her off-balance. I said yes.
Once home, I embraced her new exercise in independence by outlining appropriate clothing choices for her new look. Together we felt around blindly at new boundaries. We broadened our choices from color and size to embrace self-respect and self-expression. The following day, dressed in her boots and an outfit I approved of, my daughter’s feet barely touched the ground as she walked to school.
Hand in hand, my little girl thanked me for her boots. She said they made her feel respected. I listened, entranced as my daughter opened up. My yes was really a validation of my daughter’s independent spirit, and an exercise in trust. She knows I am listening and I know she hears me.
my girl
September 22, 2011 § Leave a comment
I have been toying with the idea that there is a complex mathematical equation that when applied explains the phenomenon of my daughter’s fluctuating maturity. The variables are uncomplicated and the product inconsistent. So far I have determined:
Age + Experience x Weather ÷ Mood = Today’s Lucky Number
Wise beyond her years and sweetly naive, my daughter is a complex contradiction in simple truths. She is dominant with her brother who is largely submissive; passive with peers that are aggressively dominant. She is angry when I am generous, grasping hungrily at excess; generously apologetic and genuinely remorseful when I am angry. She basks in her role as the baby and fights to be taken seriously as a big kid. She entertains us with comedy and crumbles if someone laughs at her. She works tirelessly to accomplish a task, but bemoans high expectations. She is predictably unpredictable and perpetually certain.
I am fascinated, bewildered, entertained, and inspired by this tiny powerhouse of fragility I proudly and lovingly call My Girl.
darcy & jo
August 20, 2011 § 1 Comment
My childhood was filled with books; the pages of well-loved stories scattered across summers and tucked inside stolen moments. In trying to lend my children aliases in this space, I am borrowing names of childhood friends among the pages of my past.
From an early age my son has walked confidently on a path of his own choosing. He is eloquent, gifted in the art of language beyond his years, and sentimental with Victorian mannerisms. His dimpled smile, innocent of its charm, lends humor to his otherwise serious disposition. I watch my Mr. Darcy with Pride, but then as his mother I am entirely Prejudice.
My daughter Jo is a leader of Little Women. Having an older brother she is eager to be his equal, unrestrained by lady-like expectations. Her heart is as large as her dreams, and she guards them both behind spirited bravado. Mindful of our expectations as her parents, she endeavors to perform expected tasks committed by a sense of responsibility born of love. Headstrong and devoted she is passionately loyal.
Similarities aside, my children’s personalities extend beyond the margins of my childhood companions; they are complicated characters, my Darcy and Jo.
birthday presence
July 31, 2011 § 2 Comments
On the dawn of each child’s birthday I wake to memories of the day we met; sentiment draws me into consciousness. Today I am remembering my daughter’s first moments. Tomorrow is her birthday.
She came into the world like a storm, energy emanating from her tiny form; her first cry a declaration of arrival. The nurse settled her, swaddled, into my arms and my heart seemed to sigh with the weight of peace. I had not been able to hold her big brother and the simple act of nestling her to me was a balm mending an old heartache. In the span of a moment, my daughter had given me a gift of experience; time overlapped as she connected two very different deliveries.
Watching her eyes search my face, her tiny rosebud mouth pursed with determination, I was enamored by the strength of her spirit. Headstrong and peaceful, she was a beautiful contradiction from the beginning.
She still clamors noisily when passionate, eager to be heard and desperate to be understood. Each day she wakes full of the sunshine that slips through her window; tossing boisterous good mornings and gifting exuberant hugs and kisses. I stand in gratitude and absorb her presence.
paper dolls
July 18, 2011 § Leave a comment
My daughter intentionally separates her sock pairs to better create a perfect match for her personality. If she doesn’t like an article of clothing, it will go unworn fading into the background of her closet. Her body is her canvas and she will not project anything outside her comfort zone. This makes shopping with her terrifying. We agree on a few simple rules: words do NOT belong on the part of your anatomy used for sitting, short shorts and skimpy shirts are OUT, and if it feels uncomfortable it is unwearable. This said, we have different opinions on the use of glitter and color pallets. I prefer something more conservative and my daughter likes to color outside the lines. Add to our dilemma my daughter’s dread of retail clothing stores; the crowded fixtures looming at every turn like shadow monsters at bedtime.
As August approaches with the promise of a new school year and my daughter’s limbs stretch beyond last year’s well-worn, outgrown clothes I embraced a new shopping style. I gathered catalogues from familiar clothing companies and tore out images of clothing that I liked, creating a shopping collage. I then scattered the images across our kitchen island and encouraged my daughter to shop the pictures. This hassle free approach has inspired a moment of fun frivolity without the frustrations of previous shopping excursions. Like paper dolls of my youth, my daughter is fitting the colorful clothes to her form with play.
party planning
July 10, 2011 § 2 Comments
Both of my children were preemies and so I find irony in my inability as their mother to properly prepare for their birthdays each year. I inevitably turn the calendar casually only to panic at the stark realization that I am predictably unprepared.
I toss around ideas throughout the year, fantasizing about spectacular themes and imagining finely organized, charmingly coordinated events worthy of magazine quality photographs. Time gets away from me and suddenly I am bouncing between retail spaces frantically searching out the images from my mind’s eye. Typically these items are fabrications of wished for items not yet available in retail stores or indulgences at the cost of sensibility that I cannot in good conscience accommodate.
Last week my daughter received birthday party invitations from friends that caused me to look ahead at the approaching month earlier than normal. I was happily reminded of my daughter’s special day and pledged to prepare in advance.
My daughter’s theme provided our first challenge. She began with one idea and then jumped ship. I was slow to swim to shore. Meeting her on different ground, disorganized and unprepared, I struggled to switch gears. As someone who is chronically indecisive I continually endeavor to teach my children to embrace their decisions without fear of remorse. I gave my daughter a choice between her ideas and then let go.
Our second challenge came when addressing our list of potential guests. I worried we had excluded children and began to add names attempting to be inclusive. My daughter’s list, short and sweet, helped me focus; I reminded myself that this day was hers and allowed myself to set aside my own rational. Again, I let go.
As my daughter’s party took form I realized we had begun to create a party that was genuine; composed of friends and activities that bring her joy. I am inspired. My little girl made decisions without remorse and I have fostered a spirit of celebration for the unique soul that lights up my days with her own definitive sense of style.
Preparations void of my own opinions has created an infectious sense of anticipation. Looking to the calendar, I am ready to turn the page.
sugar and spice
July 2, 2011 § Leave a comment
It began with a tiny tool belt strung at a sassy angle across her hips. My daughter, face determined, shook her head with frustrated disappointment. No tools. The problem seemed obvious, but my curiosity was endless. I watch my children perpetually lost to their stories. Each new interest is an unexpected introduction to another piece of their personality and I am smitten with their spirit of adventure. As my daughter stood dressed in preparation for a new chapter, I remembered an earlier day.
I secretly wished for a daughter when her life was still a newly formed possibility. My son was an all-encompassing source of joy and I couldn’t imagine another boy. I began imagining a daughter. I daydreamed about a little girl who would scale climbing trees in a princess dress, play in the dirt as easily as host tea parties for teddy bears, and in time I was blessed with a dream come true.
Her character is a complexity of contradictions. Strong in spirit and fragile in moments of uncertainty; kind in moments of compassion and fierce when overwhelmed by frustration. Her room and clothes are the trappings of a little girl, but she plays alongside her big brother. It seems fitting that she would fill her brother’s cast aside tool belt with pink handled tools. Her first project a table and chairs of her own design, doll height and coated in purple paint.
shadow friends
June 29, 2011 § 1 Comment
My daughter and I were walking into swim lessons last night, the angle of the sun casting matching shadows in front of us. In happy tones she declared: Look Mom, our shadows. It’s almost like I am not little and we aren’t just us, we’re friends. The same.
I loved that the sun stretched our time together into something that extended beyond the present into friendship. I wonder if I will ever cease to see the little girl who sleeps like an angel; eyelashes resting delicately on sweetly rounded cheeks. My mermaid in the water, splashing and gliding carefree. Or the class clown, animated with an infectious laugh casting a shield of humor to guard her insecurities. I cannot yet see the young woman in my daughter’s shadow, but I am inspired by the little girl beside me.
skating by
June 14, 2011 § Leave a comment
Bedtime on a summer evening feels like a sad impossibility to a spirited six-year-old. Bath, books, and kisses signaled the end of another day. For me. The sound of our hall linen closet clicking open and closed combined with the frenzied thumping of little feet racing back to bed told me the evening was young. I called out a firm “good-night” from my side of the hallway, aware the stolen moments are the sweetest. Silence followed and so I tiptoed to my daughter’s doorway curious to discover if sleep or a secret adventure created the absence of sound. This is what I found…
Curled up on her bed, head bent in a determined endeavor, my daughter was tying wash clothes to her feet; one orange and one pink, ends flopping over like terry cloth bunny ears. Her efforts revealed she tipped her head determinedly and declared, I am making skates. Then to demonstrate the significance of the task at hand, she popped off her bed and skated around her room, hardwood floors welcoming the adventure, and I let it pass with a smile.
scribblechic 