We spent the weekend celebrating her birthday, because I'm me and she's her and we both love birthdays. The problem is that some sort of mathmatical parenting formula including one birthday monster raising another birthday monster means that certain people equal birthday divas if left unchecked. Certain people named Elyse that is. So I had do some minor birthday diva checking like "No you cannot paint a $50 puppy statue at As You Wish." "No, I will not take you to dessert somewhere else when you just had dessert." "Yes, you must pay for your own toys using your gift cards." But by and large, she was a good and gracious birthday girl. She had an ice skating party and did awesome learning to skate. She went swimming with her (bonus) sister all evening Saturday. We took a painting class Sunday morning. We went shopping, had lunch, colored official oil painting portraits of each other and swam some more. It was a good 8th birthday if I do say so myself. Here are some snaps from the big day.
And I love her a lot. A lot, a lot.
At 8, she is standing around 5ft tall. Tall like her mama - I wouldn't be surprised if she grew even taller. She wears a size 6 in women's shoes. She showed her true maternal spirit this year when her brother was born, proving that she really is the fruit of my belly. She shows glimpses now of big girl with eyes rolling and independance where there was previously pure dependance and blind loyalty to her mama. She'll ignore me when I make her mad. She'll argue if she disagrees. I try and remind myself that no now means no later to bad boys and mean girls. She loves fashion and art. She likes to wear crazy things and is fearless when she does it. I ask her, "What will you say when someone tells you that you don't match?" she'll say, "I'll tell them they don't match, and ask them why they care what I'm wearing." We had our first conversation about body image. I told her all that matters is that she loves herself and that her body is strong. She understands more and more about God, telling me that my brother died so that things that we haven't seen yet will happen one day for our good. In her first practice running in volleyball, she got last place and I could tell she gave up. I told her she had to run fast, and harder when she saw other people beating her. I told her she should feel like her lungs are on fire and that her heart is beating out of her chest and to just keep trying harder and harder. The next practice she got 2nd place. The kids in her class love her and everyone wants to be her friend. Her teachers want a 100 children like her in their classroom. She is lazy at reading, but she catches on to learning concepts easily. She still rocks at art. She can fit into some of my smaller clothes barely, and this delights her. She sneaks into my jewelry and asks to borrow my dangley earrings. She loves when I put make up on her for special occassions. She still likes to cuddle on the couch. She nearly never cries and when she does cry, she hates to do it front of other people. When she wrote me a mushy card for mother's day, she didn't want anyone else to read it. Things like that are so clearly me in her. She bosses her brother around but also scolds him and pulls him back if he walks into a street without looking first. She is still a terribly picky eater and gags if Milo spits up on her. She will help me willingly with anything I ask her to help me with. She has a terrible habit of saying anything and everything that comes to mind to say like telling the Nanny that we "spy" on her (which we do with the camera), or telling me I have a pimple on my face, or telling my Grandma that the flowers she gave us died already. She still holds my hands sometimes when we are walking, but she always hugs me when I see her. She hates when I do her hair, but likes when I help her pick out an outfit. She is still more child than big girl, thank God for that.
Here are some pages from the birthday book I made her about her life.
No comments:
Post a Comment