Oh, Ange...

Since the time she was a baby, Angelina has been my "spirited" child. She marches to the beat of her own drummer. She looks for a different way to do the most common of things. About two years ago, when I pointed out to her that the lines on the coloring page were meant to be colored in, not over, she looked at me and said "oh, Mommy - everyone colors in the lines. I'm going to do it different." And she does different so well.

We went to brunch on Sunday to celebrate my birthday with my parents. It's our little post-recital tradition. This year, we went to Lib's Grill - which is rapidly becoming a favorite stop for Sunday brunch. I ordered pancakes and eggs for the baby first thing and asked for a take out container to serve him from, since we were seated at a hightop table and the highchairs wouldn't reach. Our server brought us two - but they weren't the standard foam takeout containers. They were fancy brown, coated cardstock containers - Chinese takeout style (without the handle). I used one for Nick - and the other sat, ignored, at the end of the table.

Ignored, until Angelina was done eating. Within minutes of her finishing her meal, Ange had discovered the second container, waiting for her at the end of the table. Seconds later, Angelina had a new hat.

Now - back in our college/post-college days, Rich and I would have made a similar hat out of a discarded box from a consumed case of beer, and we would have called it the "asshole hat." Watching my beautiful, spirited, amazing daughter dancing around Lib's Grill with a takeout box on her head, all I could think of was our "asshole hat."

I was suddenly petrified of what she will be like as a college student.

 

 

Raising A Dancer

Tonight, I watched my beautiful Rosie girl on stage - tapping her heart out. They ran their dance twice and both times, she brought tears to my eyes.

Early in the dance year, her teacher and the studio owner recognized that her abilities surpassed those of the other girls in her tap class. The decision was made to move her into a different tap class - one with older and more advanced girls. She was less than thrilled to make the move. It would mean new people and more challenges, but I believed it was worth it.

Her second week of her new tap class, she came home crying. She was the youngest in her class and she was being picked on. The "company" girls (who are just mean girls in tutus) were shunning her from their little group. She wantged to quit.

We talked about it for a while that night and ultimately decided to stick it out a while longer. Once she went to bed, I emailed her teacher and asked for guidance. The response was immediate - Rosie belonged in this class and could absolute do everything they were learning.

For most of November and December, my Friday afternoons included a major pep-talk and my nights were filled with chatter of what the mean girls did this week. Every now and then, she would convince me to pick up donuts or cookies - so she could "bribe" these little bitches and get them to be nice to her. As a parent, this was tough. I didn't want her to feel the need to bribe this nasties...but at the same time, I just wanted my kid to fit in and have a positive experience.

Despite feeling discouraged, she stuck it out. She didn't miss a week. She worked hard. She rejoiced when the leader of the mean girls was no longer going to be in her class. She quietly worked on steps in her head. She continually told me that she couldn't do it and I would repeatedly tell her that she could.

Tonight, as I watched my baby on stage, all I could think was "this was worth it." Her poise and skill level has improved more than I ever imagined or expected.  She was the smallest kid on stage - but she had the biggest smile and her tap sounds were strong and confident.

My Rosie girl makes me proud pretty much always - but tonight was a whole new level. Tonight's rehearsal performance was proof of her moxie. She has a gift within her. She is wise and talented beyond her ten years. It may have been hard work and at times discouraging - but it was worth every moment and it shows!

The Broken Hearted Child

 When I was young, my Mom told me that, as a parent, you can only be as happy as your most miserable child. Of course, I didn't really understand this until I had kids. Now that I'm a mother, I understand what she meant. I can't be happy if one of my children is sad...and their sadness is magnified within me.

Earlier today, I picked up RJ's iPad and noticed that he had a message waiting for him from Max, his friend and classmate. I opened up his messages to see when Max had texted and if RJ texted often. I was not prepared for what I saw.

Yes, RJ messaged people. Not exactly "often," but enough and somewhat recently. One of the more recent message was a picture he sent to Day-Day.

My little boy has a beautiful heart. He genuinely cares for the health and well-being of pretty much everyone around him. He worries about his grandparents...he asks about them regularly. When my Mom had her knee replaced, he asked for her every day until he could see her for himself. He is genuinely concerned about those around him. When he doesn't understand something, he often internalizes his confusion until it comes out full force. For the past several weeks, he has shied away from any talk of Day-Day. He has focused instead on Messier and the need our family has for a kitten.

So when I realized that he was messaging his Day-Day, my heart shattered for him. RJ is not big on the written word - he instead expresses himself through art. Through a series of messages, my little guy clearly communicated his very broken heart.

I am so sad for him. I am sad for all of us - but knowing what much be in his head and his heart breaks mine. I can't heal this pain. I can't fix this loss. My sweet little boy gave his all to Dave - they were very close, and he is so missing the man who taught him how to stand up to pee...and so much more.

You can only be as happy as your most miserable child - so for as much as I hurt for me, I hurt so much more for my babies. I can't make this better for them - no matter how hard I try.

Angelina Loses A Tooth

From the time she was about three, Angelina has been asking me when she will lose her first tooth. Some weeks, depending on who she knew that was missing teeth, she would ask daily. I have remained consistent in my response: when you are six-and-a-half. 

At the time, 6 1/2 seemed so very far away. She would likely loss a tooth by that point in time, so there seemed to be no harm. That is until she turned six and didn't have a wiggly tooth. I wasn't too upset about this - after all, she is my baby girl and I don't want her to grow up. But her lack of a wiggly tooth was beyond upsetting to Ange, especially as her friends began to lose their teeth. 

She came home many times this winter with a finger in her mouth, saying "look, Mom! I have a wiggly tooth!" But it never actually wiggled. That was until last week. 

Just last week, she came home all excited. "Mom! I have a wiggly tooth!" As always, I would stick my finger in her little mouth and try to wiggle. This time, however, the tooth actually moved! 

You do! You do have a wiggly tooth! She was so excited. 

With her older siblings, the wiggly phase would last for weeks. Sometimes even months. Not my Ange. Just like always, she has to be different from the rest. 

Rosie came in first today, with Angelina about a minute behind her. 

Ro: Angelina has something to show you, Mom. 

Ange: Hi, Mommy! What looks different about me today? (smiles)

Me: did you lose a tooth?! 

Ange: (proudly) yes I did! I wiggled it and wiggled it until if popped right out during sharing. 

I hugged her. I ooed. I ahhed. I made a big stink. And after she proudly marched off for her after school play date, I cried just a little. As my tears fell, I looked at that little tooth in a baggie ans rhoight "my baby girl is growing up!"