Time goes by. Here and gone. If I don't do something to capture the moments, the present becomes memories that will be easily lost or distorted with time. So, here we are, already fall again.
Evelyn, where and how should I begin. Big E, little e, what begins with E? Six going on seven, hardly waiting to become a teenager. You are still such a little girl, playing adventures and family with your friends (it used to be hedgehog adventures, but since scooting around is a bit hard on a big play ground, you've ditched the hedgehog act and moved on to human adventures). Yet on the same time, princesses are of the past. You can't wait to turn 7 and 8 and on to a teen. Which means you love to put on chapsticks, wear cool cloths, and pretend you have a phone while climb trees and hang on monkey bars. Once, you got five blisters across your palms hanging on the big red wheels during recess. You are so easy to make laugh. Gross bathroom humors gets you, just about every time. I sold you the Captain Underpants series just by mentioning that one of the villain is a giant poop.
Following behind you on our family bike ride last Sunday, I watched as you paddle as fast as your just-about-too-small bike would go just so I can maintain a speed that allows me to keep my balance, your two pig tails streaming back under your pink helmet, I hear your laughter that gets send back with the wind when I say something silly, and my heart just does this strange thing. It feels as if it is growing too large and burns inside my chest. The sight was the pure, innocent childhood writ large. My love for you over flows. But this love is sometimes hard to express, for oh-my do you try me some times. My instructions to you were seldom followed the first time they were given. Raised voice does not guarantee your attention either. I have yelled until I was red in my face with veins throbbing in my neck and got a "Mommy, why are you so loud? Other people will hear," in return. I've clapped my hands so hard when I'm trying to make a point, that my hands stung. What you didn't get is that I was afraid if I don't hit my own hands, I would hit you instead. None of this threatens you though. It does not light any fire under your bum and make you hop to where I want you to hop any faster. You'd be on your meandering way, smelling the flowers and smiling at birds along the way. Which is all fine and well, except it's eight o'clock and you should be getting ready for bed already. Until I finally played the Santa Claus card. If I need to ask you three times before you do what I told you to do, I'll send Santa a note and tell him about it. Oh boy do things finally become more urgent.
You are so anxious to grow up. Asking for your Christmas list, you gave me four items: an iPhone, makeup, high heel shoes, and a wedding dress like gown. No, no, no, and no. You no longer pretend to be a princess, you pretend to be a teenager using my iPod as your pretend iPhone, carrying around a Nantucket nectar bottle as your "coffee". One afternoon during our vacation, I found myself telling you to hang up on your pretend friend on your pretend phone so you can spend some real time with your real family. Totally did not see that coming. For all that you want to be a teenager, your favorite games are still family and adventures. I am thankful for this. You are still so innocent. Gullible sometimes. Often an easy prey to daddy's tease. Trusting. "For real, Mama, so-and-so told me." Innocent. Stay this way a bit longer, please.
You love to create. To make up a dance, a story, or a song. To draw, to write, to make a necklace. You also love to make up scenarios to question about. "What if there are five dozen people in our house, do we need to get five dozen donuts then?" "What if I need to perform tomorrow and I only know about it today?" The "what if"s can keep coming and coming and coming. Sometimes, there are too many of them for me to parley, and the situations can be so far fetched, I am struck wordless. I don't want you to scare yourself with an endless list of "what if's". What I do want though is for you to keep your imagination and creativity. Keep coming up with new songs and dances. Keep making up these scenarios and spin them into stories.
I often fear that I push you too hard. That I am always asking you to do more, to try harder. Know that it's because I love you. I want you to grow up knowing that you can do more, knowing that you can become better if you want to. Life, sadly, is not a walk in the park. I want you to grow up loving and happy, tough and strong, so that whatever gets thrown your way will get hammered out of the ball park.
Like what I told you, I am your mother. My job is to not only love you and take care of you, but also to make sure you grow up tough and strong.
No comments:
Post a Comment