A few
nights ago, Peanut and I found ourselves
outside in 107* [but
overcast - which
we Arizona people LOVE]. We were
"peppering". Passing the volleyball back and forth. I
am loving all the progress she is making. She
asked that I hit a few balls at her so she can get used to balls coming
more quickly at her. [not always the
lobbing back and forth].
Sadly. My
"take no prisoners" mantra managed to sneak it's way into playing
with my daughter. She was
rocking it. So I hit harder
and harder
and harder . . . . until I
pegged her in the
chest-ish region.
She.
wasn't. so. impressed.
Me: You ok? [
laugh, laugh]
Try to get a hand on it.
Anything - so someone can play it
off you.
Peanut: [looking
not impressed]
Mom you just creamed me.
Me:
Sorry kid. [then I went on about.....
as you get better...these things happen....it's okay . . .]
Peanut: [pause] I think
you and I both know NO ONE I'll be playing in the next
two years will ever hit
anything like that at me.
Me: [feeling slightly proud , joke, joke]
okay, your right. But when they
do -- you're all
freaking over it!
Peanut: [eyes getting
big and red and..................here comes the tears]
Me: sweetheart,
I am so sorry. I thought you were having fun [
prior to the smack down]
Peanut:
I am Mom. This
isn't about how I
can't breathe. [yep, her words]
Me: huh, what?
Then she let it all -
ALL - out.
You see [
as you may very well know] . . . I
am reactive.
Peanut:
7 out of 10 times . . . .not
so much.
She hears a lot. [like me on the phone or talking to other "adults"]
She
internalizes even more.
She
thinks she
has to be strong -
all the time.
T u r n s o u t . . . . a larger than smaller telephone
"conversation" was over heard by her when - - I
had thought she was outside. [This was
almost a month ago! And
just now she tells me.] She
did not get this skill from me.
Sitting there in the 107* grass
with her, hugging her,
answering her questions [trying to any way] . . . . .
reminded me of why I
love being a "Mom".
The
intensity of the love I feel for her. The way
I hurt when
she hurts. The tangible
bond we share. The
losses we go through together. The
surprises we encounter [love surprises]. The
joys we celebrate together. The
horrible dance moves we share. ;) The
ability to love more -
then more - then ---
somehow ---- even more.
She still
wants to talk to me.
Listen to me. Cook
with me. Dance with
me. Read by me.
Sit by me.
And I
freaking love it.
Because I
want to do the same.
Life is
bumpy, twisty, confusing
& full of
air-pockets.
This day was
no exception. But it was one of the
best days in my life.
We packed it in.
Walked inside. Both with tears streaming down our
crusty,
sweaty faces. She walks down the hall and . . . .
I'm overcome.
By her
non-childlike behavior. Her
intensity. Her beauty.
Her candor. Her
talents. By her
heart.
As a young mom [and young wife] I
used to think that
struggles equalled a
failure to some extent. But
now I realize more and more each day that these
struggles bring us together in a way a
"perfect" life - never could.
To
heck with looking like the
"Jones's". Being
"Patty Perfect" , "
Church-going Cathy" or "
Homemaker Helen" .
My
need, my want?
To
continue on with
my family, my girl - - - by
MY side - - - for.
FREAKING. ever.
Laughing
or
crying.
Doesn't really matter.
What does matter?
That
we keep moving ahead
with our "seat belts" fastened.
Because
life ----
--- it's a
freaking awesome, wild ride.
[
and guess what? we've. freaking. got. this.]