Then, I got the flu. I also got pregnant. I got morning sickness, congested nasal passages, and insomnia.
I also got my little girl.
If there were two items of clothing which matched, up the stairs she ran to change one of them. Tender-headed, she refused to put a brush or a comb through her hair... which she also refused to cut. Hair in her eyes made Daddy nutty, so she agreed to headbands and colorful clips. Bangs were never an option; they take too long to grow out. I chose my battles in those days. She went happily uncombed to pre-school and I didn't care. It's not that I was all that talented in the tonsorial department, anyway. She really wasn't missing very much.
She learned to accept a compliment with grace when she was three. It was a means of protecting herself from unwanted attention to just how cute she was. She knew it. She didn't want to hear it. I promised her that if she smiled and said "Thank You," the grown-up's attention would turn elsewhere. I count that as a major parenting triumph.
She is the glue that holds the group together. There is nothing artificial about my daughter... or the people closest to her. She's open and accepting and glad to make new friends, but the people she cherishes are the ones who cherish themselves. Her circle is diverse and marvelous and makes her smile. What more could a mother want?
She's faced joys and she's faced sorrows. She's picked herself up, brushed herself off, and done her best to move on with her life. It's a resiliency that inspires me; she is determined not to let the bad guys win. She faces the truth squarely... with the knowledge that she has a husband and parents and a brother who've got her back.
She's loved and she knows it and she lets us know that she does. She has a happy soul, a soul she is willing to share. I am so glad to be able to give you glimpses of her here, in The Burrow. Trust me, the reality .... in person... when you're around her..... it makes your heart sing.
Happy Birthday, Little Cuter.