In Her Hand

Seems just yesterday she was like this. . .

Seems just yesterday she was like this. . .

And here she is today. Brownie bridging ceremony at Stone Mountain Park Grist Mill. Almost 8 years old, 2nd grade, October 2013.

And here she is today. Brownie bridging ceremony at Stone Mountain Park Grist Mill. Almost 8 years old, 2nd grade, October 2013.

She’s eight. I’m no longer one of those moms with babies. Or toddlers. I’ll never have a preschooler or a kindergartner again. It’s sad, but so so sweet, too. She can run her own bath, and swim laps, and brush her own hair, and boy does she have ideas about how she wants her hair to look. She has beautiful, soft hair. It still smells good after a bath, but smells more little girl than baby. I know now why grandmas want to smell babies heads – it’s like crack. You get a whiff and you want it the rest of your life.

She’s in 2nd grade now, and reading stuff like Tales of a 4th Grade Nothing, and likes clothes and puppies and stuffed animals and jewelry. She likes reading and writing and homework, and god help me, crafts. She is sensitive and sweet and nothing like me. She wants to please us and her friends and her teachers. She wishes she had a sister. She still writes notes to Fairies, and believes in Santa and the Tooth Fairy. She still loves my hugs, and wants to be with me whenever she can. She sits next to me comfortably, and without pulling away. She is a Brownie. A swimmer. She has the most amazing smile, even with that little snaggle tooth. Her laugh is my favorite song. And she laughs a lot – she likes to make up jokes, and she likes it when we make jokes. She wants to be a vet. And a zookeeper. She likes math. SHE LIKES MATH. She makes up stories. She writes stories. She loves loves loves her Grandmas. She wraps Grandpas around her fingers with just a smile, or a hug. She adores Leah and Syd, Mia and Liliana, Rachel, and Gia, Nathan, Tristan, and Michael. She loves her brother, but god do they fight sometimes.

This week, at the lake, I watched her, and she didn’t know i was watching. She sat under a tree, and wrapped her arms around her knees, and gazed out over the lake. And I knew she was thinking. Just like I used to think under Connie’s dogwood tree. Or on the front rocker of our porch in New York. Like i still think when I lie on the boards of the dock at night and ponder the moon and the planets and the constellations. Sometimes she lies with me. Sometimes she holds my hand. She holds me in her hand.

MUSHY. Let’s talk about the party.

So, yeah, we had an old-school carport cookie-decoratin’ party. October birthdays might be the best.

Tiller loves beanie boos.

Tiller loves beanie boos.

Watching tills open stuff.

Watching tills open stuff.

Miss Chloe.

Miss Chloe.

I think? Tiller collects beanie boos and twins.

Lilian, I think? Tiller collects beanie boos and twins.

Yeah. Twins. Maybe leah. Gah. I have trouble when they are not together.

Yeah. Twins. Maybe Syd.. Gah. I have trouble when they are not together.

Boys focused on cornhole and that jumpie thing.

Boys focused on cornhole and that jumpie thing.

So, yeah, not sure what the deal was with the gems on foreheads. Hopefully not insulting to my Indian friends - They were part of the scavenger hunt treasure, and the kids started putting them on their foreheads. I like to think it is their multicultural upbringing that made them do this.

So, yeah, not sure what the deal was with the gems on foreheads. Hopefully not insulting to my Indian friends and family – They were part of the scavenger hunt treasure, and the kids started putting them on their foreheads. I like to think it is their multicultural upbringing that made them do this.

A rare moment of still sitting with this whirling dervish of a nephew.

A rare moment of still sitting with this whirling dervish of a nephew.

My sweet girl. Best smile in the world.

My sweet girl. Best smile in the world.

He was pretty bored.

He was pretty bored.

The basket and bell, because why would you make a girls' bike that doesn't have these? Where would you put acorns, rocks, bows, and beanie boos?

The basket and bell, because why would you make a girls’ bike that doesn’t have these? Where would you put acorns, rocks, bows, and beanie boos?

Just what all 8 year olds need. She loved this gift, and it actually looks really, really cool.

Just what all 8 year olds need. A messenger bag She loved this gift, and it actually looks really, really cool.

 

Chloe and Tiller, about to blow candles out.

Chloe and Tiller, about to blow candles out.

My baby is 8. This cannot be. Also, i just ate the rest of that cake with coffee for 2nd breakfast. A pitfall of working from home.

My baby is 8. This cannot be. Also, i just ate the rest of that cake with coffee for 2nd breakfast. A pitfall of working from home.

Chloe always has the best expressions.

Chloe always has the best expressions.

My sweet, tissue-paper pasty skinned, freckled nephew. I want to eat him up.

My sweet, tissue-paper pasty skinned, freckled nephew. I want to eat him up.

Leah, i think.

Leah, i think.

Yeah, that's definitely me.

Yeah, that’s definitely me. With tills and . . . uh syd. I’m going with Syd.

My sister will eat some cookies.

My sister will eat some cookies.

Good sister, bad sister. Guess which one is which?

Good sister, bad sister. Guess which one is which?

Pretty sure that's syd, and leah. Syd on left. It's like a puzzle.

Pretty sure that’s syd, and leah. Syd on left. It’s like a puzzle.

These three are just three peas in a pod.

These kids are just a bunch of peas in a pod.

Jimmies my ass. There were sprinkles. Lots of sprinkles.

Jimmies my ass. There were sprinkles. Lots of sprinkles.

Rollie doesn't go for hugs anymore, not even from his Aunt, not unless his fever is at least 102. He's ten now, you know. Way too old for your hugs.

Rollie doesn’t go for hugs anymore, not even from his Aunt, not unless his fever is at least 102. He’s ten now, you know. Way too old for your hugs.

We decorated cookies. Not a bad way to spend an afternoon.

We decorated cookies. Not a bad way to spend an afternoon.

Tiller wins.

Tiller wins.

 

« »

3 comments

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>