perspective from little people with big hearts

The rain drops take turns racing down the windows, most out of turn.  Candles are lit, the rain smell still wafts in.

I just shipped off two precious little girls in extravagant princess dresses made from pink blankets.  To the land of toys and joy and imagination magic.  I am amazed at the simplicity of their lives - and the happiness that goes along with it.

When do we lose that?  We do we lose sight of the importance of others, of sharing, of loving?  My four year old has a better grasp of how to live a joyful life than any adult I know.  The broken record that seems to be the current mantra of my life continues: I have learned a great deal in the last two years.  A time that began with heartache and a whole lot of Why me?'s - one that was turned to good and cause for a lot of inward reflections.

We have turned life into something overly complicated and ugly.  We have removed the love, added a lot of stress, hurry, and competition, and we have lost sight of the simple joys of living. We worry about the appearance of our living - are we living an impressive life for the people on the outside?  In that case, the inside life likely suffers.  I have been here - I grew up with judgements from all angles, and I struggle with it constantly.  Impressing people is one serious downfall of mine, but I'm learning to let go.  That's not the important part of life.

Today, after ballet, I took the girls to a lunch destination of serious weakness to grab a to go meal.  I was startled when a man stopped me to ask what the occasion was to explain why they were so dressed up.  The words fumbled their way through my head until I finally spit out, "Well, she was just at dance..."  He said, "Oh sweet.  I wish I could dance."  Ruby was still in her ballet clothes which consist of a leotard and tights - she dressed that up today with purple flats.  Eisley had on a sundress.  Par for the course when the warm weather visits.

Wonder what that guy would have said when he saw Eisley in church wearing her Cinderella dress.  It's tempting to analyze a situation to death.  My kids aren't dressed the way others think they should be?  Should I change things around?  I will be humbled again, and take a lesson from them.  I will be who I am, and I will allow them to be who they want to be, without a care in the world what anyone else has to say.

Because you know what's important?  Their love.  Their passion to love everyone they know, and everything they do with reckless abandon -- because that's what they know.  They know love, and don't love under various circumstances, they don't withhold love like it's a weapon.

Tonight found me crying out of sheer frustration and a familiar questioning of mothering skills.  Ruby has been quite emotional lately.  And by emotional, I mean whining about the wrappers on the crayons, screaming over the water she needs in the middle of the night (that sits right beside her head), bursting into tears at the first sign of friction.  She isn't like this all the time, and it's so hard to see her this way.  Her immediate reaction to anything except happiness is tears.  And whines.  And protests.  I think this is likely normal but take away my rational, level-headed, and laid back girl and give me an emotional basket case, and my nerves are rattled.  Suddenly, I have allowed thoughts about being the worst mom ever, and that I'm probably failing her.

But you know what?  I am not failing.  She is a happy kid for 99% of the day - she cries through a scuffle with Eisley, likely over some pint-sized princess, and she apologizes on her own within the minute.  She loves with without apology.  She doesn't hold grudges, and she certainly doesn't throw labels.  She knows love and happiness and comfort.  She doesn't know the ugly ways of the world, the judgements cast and the stones thrown from people.  She doesn't even know she has an issue.

And because I'm the master at diagnosis via Google, I have searched it, and researched it.  I haven't broken my child - when I begin to type crying four year old, Google finishes my thought for me because it's par for the course.  We're moving down the checklist to make this better.

In the meantime, I'm taking notes.  From my children.


{some recent joys}

um, yeah.  That time I went all hair salon in my own bathroom with foils and lying hair dye (because that is not light red).  Still I'm tempted to be proud because I stepped outside of my box and did not completely ruin my hair in the meantime.