My sweet girl. I hate raising my voice. Especially with you. I feel like my voice is loud, it is like razors through your heart. And I hate it. I'm not always sure how to parent you without that voice.
I'm watching you sleep now, in the wake of yet another "why did this happen, Ange" conversation. "And don't tell me you don't know." But you never know. And neither do I. So I weep for us both while you sleep.
Tonight's episode occurred at 11pm - after a family movie (during which just you & I stayed awake). You yelled from the foyer - though two of your siblings were upstairs asleep and one was in bed, on her way to sleep. The yelling was because you saw "a strange animal" on our porch. I promised to investigate and sent you to brush your teeth. After seeing the harmless white cat on our lawn, I noticed my ring on the steps.
The year you were born, I tapped my way across the stage to Beyonce's "Single Ladies." I wore a cheesy, plastic, light-up ring - which has safely been on display in our sunroom ever since. It has been taken down three times. Once to be worn in a reprise of the original routine, once by a curious Angelina right after that reprise and then tonight.
This comes on the heels of a series of somewhat destructive behaviors that have me headed straight for the nuthouse. I'm at a bit of a loss as to how to help you - but there are some things that I need you to know...
I love you. More than anything in the world. You are absolutely one of my favorite people on the planet.
I often think we are soulmates - connected by threads that no one can see but we both feel.
I get lost in the depth of your eyes.
I know you hate taking medicine (because you would rather eat lunch), but I love your ADHD brain. That brain of yours is beautiful and creative. It is strong and powerful. You, my sweet little girl, are going to change the world and make it a better place. Your brain sees through fences and defenses and easily identifies that weaknesses within others. The beauty of our heart is that you only use that knowledge for good.
You are a helper - and you are proud to be a helper. It comes easily to you - and you don't even know how much of a gift that is to everyone else around you.
I think back to my very first parent teacher conference with your amazing teachers at Bridges. You were not yet 4 - the second youngest child in your class. Your teacher looked at me and said "your greatest difficulty as a parent will be figuring out how to help her harness her many talents to use them for good."
And you are so very, very talented.
I told you, my sweet 8-year-old girl, that I am afraid that your choices will land you in prison. That you will someday touch the wrong belonging of the wrong person and end up with your back against the wall and scared. You cried. I cried. You are sound asleep - and I am wide awake and searching ADHD blogs for different ways and techniques to help my beautiful Angel.
I'll do whatever it takes, baby girl. We were destined for each other - and I am learning so much from you. I love seeing the world through your eyes - and I never want that view to change.
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