The best and the worst

Today was an interesting day. Happy and fun and hard and long and draining—all of which resulted from one little gal. A harrowing yet lovely Mother's Day.

Anna greeted me this morning with violent hugs (which are her calling card) and a bag filled with two cards, a picture of her on a stand she made at school, and a paper with her answers to questions asking what she knows about her mother. (For my job, I apparently "fix emails.") I read the notes and delighted in her thoughtfulness and sincerity. My heart sang as she said forthrightly, "You're the best mom in all ways . . . . except when you make asparagus and avocado." We snuggled in bed, laughed and talked, and all was right with the world. Then we eventually got up and got ready for church. And everything was just fine.

She chatted with the bishop for a few minutes before church, and he happened to ask if she had given me a hug this morning. She said yes and then said, "Actually, I tackled her." Which is quite true. Like I said: violent hugs. He mentioned this exchange over the pulpit—what one little girl said, anyway—and I smiled. Because I happen to agree: a good percentage of what this girl says should be publicized.

Then at church, because I turned to the opening hymn and she didn't get to, she sulked THE ENTIRE TIME. No matter what I did or said, she didn't snap out of it. Even when I told her she was welcome to get over it and find the next two songs, she said, "Nothing you say will make me happy ever again." I let her be for a while (she spent a good deal of time bent over with her head on her knees, which is the true sulking position, I guess), and she only became somewhat pleasant when I offered to draw with her. She complied, but she didn't forget to frown once in a while. Everything was not fine.

After church, when I thought all was forgotten, I told her that she couldn't, in fact, take a shell filled with glitter to her BFF right that very minute, and I was once again out of her good graces. She was upset and harrumphed away, sulking in silence for the next hour while I helped prepare dinner.

We ate a delicious meal in honor of my mother, including delicious layered peanut butter and chocolate pudding cups for dessert, and then later Anna and I took turns blowing bubbles outside and catching them. We sat on the porch together, and I read her the story of Rapunzel. It was a lovely moment.

Then later, as I cleaned up a mess that got all over her clothes and shoes after an unfortunate accident, sweating because it was hot today yet still not time for the a/c, I asked her to quickly brush her teeth and floss because it was time for bed. Her first response was to complain and she started to ask if she could just do "one last thing." Utterly exhausted, I quickly put a stop to it and said I just wanted her to do what I asked without whining and complaining. For once. I left her in the bathroom to get ready for bed, but she made an appearance soon after. She came up to me and said quietly, attitude very apparent, "I just have one question. Woud you rather have an interrupting mother or a mother who doesn't interrupt?"

I knew where this was going, and I didn't like it. She was upset that I interrupted her complaining back in the bathroom. I was shocked by her impudence, and I advised her to stop this line of questioning before the situation got much worse. I sent her back to brush her teeth, and she wept in the bathroom. She was still upset with me as she went to put her pajamas on.

Things were still touchy when she didn't like the book I picked to read and she said/cried in a crazed voice, "Do you hear that half cry in my voice? Because I do and it's weird!" Normally, I try not to give in to her requests when she's whining, but I quickly agreed to read another book because I knew she was about to blow. And this girl just needed to get to bed.

I read some, hugged her tight, and said goodnight. Then I walked into my bedroom and collapsed on my bed.

What on earth was the deal today? It was like a volcanic eruption of emotions all the live-long day. Was she jealous of the attention others were getting on Mother's Day? Was she exhausted from being so cute and thoughtful? I just don't know. But what I do know, what I finally realized, is that it was, in fact, a perfect mother's day. Because there was the good along with the bad, the hard along with the happy. It was fitting, being utterly frustrated just moments after being utterly delighted. Because that's real life, that's real motherhood. So thanks, Anna, for a truly remarkable day. Even though it's often hard, I am truly happy. I wouldn't trade being your mother for anything.

Another episode of "The Girl Behind the Annacdotes"

After the last dose of Annacdotes, I felt once again like it was time to explain a little more about the girl behind them. She does say some pretty amazing things, but her whole self is noteworthy too. Here's what's been on my mind, of late, to round her out a little.

1. She takes a lot of time in the bathroom mostly because she's singing. She sings A LOT. I think she likes to watch herself in the mirror. And it's mostly songs she makes up herself, which is even better, somehow.

2. Just so you don't get the wrong idea and think her a total diva, she LOVES to clean the bathroom with me. Her favorite thing to do is spray the counter tops and scrub them with a sponge.

3. The girly streak in her continues to run deep. If you ever need a compliment on your outfit, Anna is the one to go to. She regularly tells people, and sincerely so, that they look "spectacular" and "amazing." She will also frequently comment on how she likes the "pops of color" in her outfits and others'. She loves to have her nails painted, but she really loves to mix it up, which most often means using as many colors as possible and in a pattern. The pattern is a must, and it sometimes carries over to her toes. Sometimes I'm like, "Must I get out ten different bottles of fingernail polish?" But then I think, "This is what makes her so brilliant."

4. She says often, and very clearly, the word "immediently." I can't help but smile with each use.

5. Whilst shopping at Target the other day, I told her she could pick out one thing to get from the dollar section. After a LOT of deliberation, she decided on a pink lacy sleep mask. What the what?

6. A big water cooler was sitting out in the kitchen the other day, and Anna appropriated it and made it her new toy for a few days. She brought it nearly everywhere she went. Instead of sitting on a chair, she pulled up the big jug and sat on it at the table. Sometimes she would even use a tall kitchen chair as her table. During a game of backgammon, she put the dice in the cooler, rolled them around, and dumped them out instead of using her hands like everyone else.

7. Anna has always been a pretty good reader, but a few months ago, she really took off. She started burning through book after book from the Magic Tree House series and those rainbow fairy books there are a million of, and nearly anything she could get her hands on. After I put her to bed one night, I  heard some rustling around several minutes later and walked in to find her reading under her covers with a flashlight. The next day we talked about when it's okay to read and when she should be sleeping. The next morning after that, Anna sheepishly admitted that she got up the night before and read in the closet so she wouldn't get in trouble. I LOVE to see her curled up with a book and I'm amazed at how she's taken to it.

She also LOVES to read the comics, which reminds me of this picture from 2010:

I think in this photo she was probably just looking at the pictures, mostly, because she had just turned 4, but her obsession with the comics probably started about then. She pants like a happy puppy whenever she sees the comics—especially the beloved, colorful Sunday comics—and she collects the Sunday ones and keeps them in a little cubby she has made for herself behind the couch. Garfield is a particular favorite.

8. Anna is very dramatic. When she's happy, she'll dance and cheer and violently hug me or whoever's nearby and say she's the happiest girl there ever was and that I'm the best mom in the world. But when she's sad, she's in the pit of despair and she takes things VERY personally. She'll say she's the worst person in the world and she'd rather die than live with what she's done (which is usually something small like not hang up her coat).

And sometimes, I feel like she's going through emotional episodes way ahead of her time. Like a teenager. And it's weird. One time she was upset and ran into the bathroom (the room closest to where she was), whipped around, and yelled, "My life is RUINED and it's all because of YOU!" and then slammed the door. Truthfully, I'm glad she closed the door so that she didn't see my smile. When did we step into an episode of Full House?

Speaking of stereotypical, sometimes I play my part too. I was fixing her hair one morning before school and Anna got upset about something. Can't remember what. She started to cry and said she was hurt and it was all thanks to me.

Unamused at this point, I said, "Yes, you have many things, thanks to me. You're alive, thanks to me. You got fed this morning, thanks to me. You learned to read, thanks to me."

Then she cried out, "I don't even care! I wish I didn't even have parents! I wish I was an orphan!" How old is she, again?

And then, as though reading from a script, I said, "We can probably arrange that." I felt a little ridiculous saying it, but it seemed to be the thing to say.

9. I don't want to end on that note because Anna truly is 95% of the time happy and cheerful and a total delight to everyone around her. She's sentimental (we're going to bury her mermaid bath toy that has passed on), she's a little bit of a pack rat (which is probably related to her being sentimental), she loves to play games and will find awards for everyone at the end of the game, she has a very spiritual soul (is that redundant?), she loves all colors and often chooses her outfits based on how many colors she can combine, she loves plays and concerts and the ballet and will cry and clap enthusiastically when it's called for, totally enthralled . . . and that's all I can think of. For now.

Birthday Traditions

Obviuosly, birthdays have been on my mind, as of late, and I've been thinking a lot about birthday traditions. With Anna, I have carried over some from my own childhood, and some seem to have developed on their own.

Back in the days of yore, when I was growing up, here were our birthday traditions:

• We got to pick our favorite kind of sweet cold cereal (like Cap'n Crunch, or something) because we never got the good stuff, ordinarily.
• We got to choose what we had for dinner.
• We got to pick the kind of birthday cake we wanted.
• The kitchen was always decorated with crepe paper and balloons.
• * UPDATE * I totally forgot about the special birthday plate and goblet! I'm so ashamed. (Thanks for reminding me, Jen.) Anyway, we got to use these fancy things when we ate our birthday dinner. I always looked forward to this part of my birthday.

I think that pretty much covers it, besides getting a few presents, obviously. Way, way back, the kids in my family also got to go out to dinner, just ourselves with our parents, and to a movie. I think I only got to do this once or twice because it became extremely hard with eight kids and the birthday-date tradition was eventually abandoned. I even remember doubling up once with a brother whose birthday was in September because my parents hadn't gotten around to him yet. It was fun while it lasted, though.

Probably 15+ years ago, I made a birthday banner (that we still use to this day) from cardstock, curling ribbon, and scotch tape. With quality supplies like that, it's really kind of a miracle that it has lasted this long. And this thing has traveled to many homes and places. We have even been known to send it to different states once in a while if someone is having a birthday.

For some reason, my sister and I started a tradition of making a birthday sign written backwards and putting it up on the wall opposite the bathroom mirror. This year was the first year I did that for Anna, which she loved (probably now that she can read it).

When you're concentrating so hard on writing backwards, it's easy to forget silly, unnecessary letters like H . . .

Last year, I decided to make Anna a shirt with a 5 on it for her 5th birthday. She got to pick the color of the shirt and the ribbon I used to make the 5. 

Although I hadn't necessarily planned on making one every year, she was excited this year to have a 6 shirt, so we made it happen. And a new tradition was born.

The lace she chose had a string of fake pearls up the middle—very fancy. We'll see how long they last. While I was in the middle of sewing this, I mourned the fact that I hadn't thought to do it when she was 4 (because of the straight lines), but I'm totally looking forward to 7. That's going to be a breeze.

I love the traditions. They make the celebrations that much more fun because, while the presents are fun surprises, you anticipate the traditions and know what to expect. It's fun that Anna's at an age where she can remember last year's birthday and birthday traditions and can look forward to them again. All the traditions don't always show up every single year, but when they do, they're delightful.

So now I want to know about some of your birthday traditions, old or new. Last one to comment is a rotten egg!

On Parenthood

You go through so many emotions as a parent, every single day. As though parenting itself (the actual actions required) isn't hard enough — and along with managing/dealing with/ignoring/coping with the bevy of emotions your child(ren) goes through — the emotional roller coaster it puts you on can be a doozy. In the course of one day, you can feel extreme love and devotion because your kid is astonishingly witty and smart and the prettiest thing you've ever seen, or you can feel like your head will literally explode if you hear her speak in that wretched baby voice one more time. And probably a hundred other emotions in between.

And it changes on you fast. One minute, you're on your way to find out why it's taking your child 20 minutes to brush her teeth, ready to really throw down, only to find that she has been busy writing "I love you Mom" on a post-it note and sticking it to the mirror. I just had to swallow that lecture and give her a hug instead. The lows are rough, but the highs are magical.

For the past few days, Anna has been in a sort of clingy/shadow phase. Most of the time, she is very capable of entertaining herself for a while. But the last few days, if she's not incessantly asking, "What can I do, Mom, what can I do?" while I'm trying to get something done, she's yapping and hanging on my clothes pretending to be a frisky puppy or blowing a kazoo in my face. I have had to practice much patience.

Those times are taxing, but they're not the only emotions you go through. The other day at the park, I felt like I was on the Colossus of emotions (for you Lagoon fans out there). I felt such sheer joy in her suggestion that we roll down a steep hill together, glad that she was instigating this adventure. I felt like a success for teaching her to enjoy the total freedom and abandonment and fun that comes from rolling down hills. I was proud when she wanted to take charge and take us on a walk and choose every path we went down. I laughed with her when she confidently pointed her walking stick and said, "Onway! Thisward! I mean, onward!" I marveled that I could laugh with her, that she is old enough to laugh at things like this. I didn't have a lot of time to dwell on that, though, because pretty soon she was running toward me with a pouty lower lip after going down the slide. She held out her hand and showed me a scrape and told me how an older boy was trying to climb up the slide when she was sliding down and he accidentally stepped on her hand. I went from feeling a sense of calm so that she would learn to brush things off, distress that she really could have gotten hurt, impatience with the older boy for stepping on someone, to flat-out panic that she might get gout or something when she promptly licked her scrape "to get the white away." Blech.

Later she saved me a green skittle because she knows green is my favorite color. Maybe it's silly to get all mushy about a green skittle, but my heart sings when she does stuff like this, when I see that she's old enough to pay attention to other people and she willingly, knowingly does thoughtful things. It's times like these that make me think, "What have I done to deserve this?" But I think you know you're a parent when you ask this question both in times of frustration and times of joy — and probably 50 times a day either way.