A few weeks ago, my daughter woke up from her nap in One of Those Moods. She was upset that her Daddy had the FLIPPING NERVE to leave to go to the grocery store while she was sleeping.
“But why did he leave without me?” She asked, while tears formed in her eyes.
“Because you were sleeping, honey.”
“But Mommy, I love Daddy! I wanted to go with him! Why didn’t he wait…for…(*tears*) MEEEEEEEE.”
“No! No! Don’t cry, Sweetie! It’s okay. He’ll be right back!”
Nothing I did to comfort her helped.
But then, I had a Spontaneous Moment of Parenting Genius.
“Look at how fast I can blink my eyes!” I said. I began to blink my eyes as fast as I could. She looked up at me, not having it at first. But I pressed on and kept blinking.
“I bet you can’t blink your eyes this fast! Only Mommy can blink her eyes faster!”
Tears, stopped.
I had just challenged her to a blink off and because she inherited my competitive spirit, it was SO ON.
What happened next was amazing.
And hilarious.
And something that The Middle Child decided MUST BE RECORDED ON VIDEO. So, later that night he took out the Flipcam and let the magic happen. I hope you think it is as funny as my entire family does.
The Blinking Faster Game.

The Champion of Blinking from mamarosa on Vimeo.

“Mom, why is everyone sad about Opa?”
“Because Opa died, Mija and we miss him.”
“Can we go see him?”
“No, we can’t sweetie.”
“Can we still love him?”
(Holding back tears) “Absolutely. We can still love him.”
“But we can’t hug him anymore?”
“No, but we can blow him kisses in heaven like this.”
“But can we blow him kisses if we’re wearing lipstick?”
“Yes, we can.”
“Mommy. I want to put my kisses in an envelope and give them to his heart.”
(Gets an envelope from the desk.)
“Will you hold this open while I blow my kisses into it?”
“Of course.” (On the verge of losing it, because oh my God, so precious.)
(Blowing kisses into the envelope.) “*kiss* One *kiss* Two *kiss* Three *kiss* Four *kiss* Five…”
She sealed the envelope and as she did an wave of emotions swept over my entire body. I was on the verge of an emotional breakdown of epic proportions. I took a deep breath in, bracing myself for The Ugly Cry when she held the envelope up.
“Mom” She said “can you please hold this? My butt itches and I need to scratch it.”
Emotional breakdown averted.

This is what you looked like at 6:39 am the day you turned 4 years old.

When you were a baby, I labeled you a “Drama Queen.” I know that it’s not nice to label people, but Girlfriend? There was no denying your dramatic ways.

This past year, I learned that your Dramatic Nature isn’t always a negative thing. Your flare for being a little bit over the top is proving to be an amazing asset. You can charm people where ever you go with your random singing. You don’t care who’s listening or where you’re at, if you want to belt out “Umbrella”, you belt it out with facial expressions and hip movements to boot. You almost always make the people around you smile or laugh out loud. When people tell you how beautiful you sing, you always say “Thank you so much! Have a great day and come visit me at my house, ok?”

Of course, not everyone finds your singing to be as precious as we do. Some people give you dirty looks and you’ll ask me “why is that lady mad, mommy?” I want to say “because she’s heartless witch!” But I usually tell you something like “not everyone appreciates hearing other people sing, because they like peace and quiet.” You’ll find out in time that there are jerks in the world who don’t like for other people to be happy in their presence. And you’ll learn to ignore them and keep being who you are, because you are wonderful and joy and sunshine on a cloudy day.

Can I talk a little bit more about your singing? Your singing is one of my favorite things in life. It brings me joy, laughter and sometimes, you’ll bring my to tears with the sweetness of your voice and the expressions you make while belting out a tune. I don’t know many people in the world who can take the numbers and turn them into a theatrical production. In fact, I’m pretty sure you’re the only one.

When I think back on this past year, the two things (because singing and pink!) that come to mind are “Lipstick” and “Hair” because OH MY GOD THE LIPSTICK AND THE HAIR.

You’ve pretty much destroyed/took over every tube of lipstick that I own, but you especially loved my bright red Estee Lauder. You had to take it with you everywhere that we would go. You’d apply it repeatedly in the car on the way to wherever we were going. By the time that we would arrive at our destination, your lips (and most of your face) would be covered with bright, red gloss.

Oh, the shiny, red joy!

You eventually decided that lipstick just wasn’t enough and every single day, I’d find you in my bathroom, painting your face, Tammy Faye Baker style.
I don’t mind sharing my lipstick with you. Lipstick makes you happy and the one thing that I want for you in life is for you to be happy. But do you know what I do mind? The fact that you’ve become obsessed with a hairstyle called “The Princess Fiona.” Basically, TPF is when I pull your hair back into a pigtail and then leave a few long pieces in front for you to flip around all princess like. I have no idea why you named it that, but every single time that I do your hair you say “I want it like Princess Fiona” and I will get annoyed and say “how about I do it like Princess Leah!’ And you’ll start to whine and say “No! I want it like Princess Fiona!” and I’ll say “How about I put a beautiful braid!” And you’ll get REALLY ANGRY and say “MOMMY JUST PUT IT LIKE PRINCESS FIONA BECAUSE THAT IS HOW I LIKE IT.”

I get frustrated because you have the most beautiful hair in all of the land and I could do so many beautiful things with it, but you are unwilling to let me. Except for once in a while, when you’re in a really good mood you’ll let me do something beautiful with it.

But, it never lasts for long. Before I know it, you’re ripping out the braid or buns and asking for me to put it like Princess Fiona.

I have proof of how much you love the Princess Fiona do. A few weeks ago, you were in your room quietly reading books. Or so I thought. “Mom, don’t worry. I cut my hair beeeeeautiful.” You shouted from your room.
My heart dropped. I ran to your room and found you standing in front of the mirror with the scissors in your hand, a mass of hair on your dresser and freshly cut, very short bangs. You were very proud of yourself until you realized that, um, you had very short bangs and you could no longer do your hair like Princess Fiona because OH MY GOD THE BANGS ON YOUR FOREHEAD.

This went on for a couple of hours. You’d stop crying, then you’d feel the bangs on your forehead, try to rip them off and when you were unsuccessful, the tears would began to fall again. It was probably the most traumatic experience of your 4 year old little life and I am sorry that I laughed, but I’m sure by the time you’re old enough to read this, you’ll laugh too.

I’m not quite sure how to end this post. There is so much I remember, so much I want to tell you, so many things that I want everyone who reads this to know about you, my sweet Lil G. Because…You? You are simply wonderful in every way.

Smart. Thoughtful. Stubborn. Affectionate. Polite. Considerate. Independent. Hilarious. Talented.

Some of your characteristics have the potential to get you into trouble in life. That is why I take my job as your mother very seriously. I want to steer you in the right direction, correcting you and setting you straight when it’s called for, but also never wanting to break your spirit. I know what it’s like to have your spirit broken. I know what it’s like to be told your dreams will never come true. I know what it’s like to be too ashamed to stand up for yourself. So, I will make sure you know the power of your voice, but also know that there is a time to be quiet, listen, learn and plan your next move. I am and will always do everything in my power to make sure you choose the right path for you.

Before I end, let me say one (or 10) more thing(s).

I am in awe of you and always will be because you are the daughter I never thought I’d have. Thank you for bring joy into my life. Thank you for “fixing my hair” when “it’s so ugly.” Thank you for “helping me clean” (even if it really means “making more of a mess.”) Thank you for telling Daddy he should make me eggs for breakfast when I’m working. Thank you for reading me stories. Thank you for not saying “Asshole” anymore because that could have got me into a LOT of trouble with Gramma and Grammpies. But mostly, thank you for bringing joy, love and perfectly timed farts into my life.

I love you.
I love you.
I love you.

Happy, Happy Birthday, Beautiful Girl of mine.

Whenever I sit down with my daughter to color, I always get a little bit nervous that she’ll ask me to draw something other than a happy face or a flower. You see, her dad can look at a picture of something and copy it to look almost exactly the same. So, she can go to her Dad and say something like “Dad, can you draw Shrek?” And he’ll say “Sure I can! Bring me the DVD so I can look at it!” And within a few minutes, she’ll be smiling from ear to ear, running around the house showing off the custom drawing of Shrek that Daddy made for her.
Now, whenever she asks me to draw something for her it’s a completely different story. Every single time she asks me to draw something for her there is an emotional breakdown of some kind.
“That’s not Snow White! That’s a piece of poop! WAHHHHH!”
“No! Look! It’s Snow White! Look at her pretty hair!”
“That’s not hair! That’s poop! I WANT SNOW WHITE NOT POOP! WAHHHH”
“That’s the best I can do, little girl. I’m sorry I’m not talented like your Dad!”
So, imagine the horror I felt deep down in my soul yesterday when we were having a precious little tea party and my daughter blurted out the words, “Will you draw Woody and Jesse for me, Mama?”
SHIT.
I tried explaining to her that I can NOT draw and “Hey! I have an idea! Let’s wait til Daddy gets home and we’ll ask him to draw Woody and Jesse for you! He loves to draw for you!”
“But MooOOoooOm! I want YOU to draw them for me!”
There was no getting out of it. I was going to have to try to draw Woody and Jesse. This wasn’t going to end well.
She brought me the DVD covers and I began to draw. She leaned in and watched me intensely as I began to sketch. My heart was pounding. My hands were sweaty. I knew it was only a matter of minutes before we’d both be laying on the floor in tears.
When I was finished drawing, I took a deep breath and waited for her response. I was fully expecting the “OMG THIS DOESNT’ LOOK LIKE WOODY!” Emotional Breakdown because, well…

She looked. She tilted her head. Then, she turned to me and said “MOM!”
Oh NOES. Here we go, I thought.
“You didn’t give Jesse eyelashes!”

She grabbed the pen from me, begin to add some lashes and when she was finished, she giggled and said “there, now it looks like Jesse!”

Sure it does. If Jesse were a demented Old Circus Monkey*!
She loved them. Absolutely loved them. And that is why I love that little girl– she is so unpredictable and almost always in a wonderful way. Every day is full of surprise and new adventures and I am enjoying the hell out of her and her Dramatic ways.

(Speaking of Dramatics… I leave you with this gem. Numbers in Opera.)

*If you get the reference, I kind of love you.