April 1: On Cecelia

I recently read an article from the Today Show about the BIG feelings that come with parenting. If you haven't read it yet, you should right this second. I'll wait for you to come back. Don't forget the tissues, I've warned you.

When I read that article, I immediately starting nodding my head in agreement. And specifically when it comes to being Cecelia's mom, the emotions are just so….BIG.



More emotions (on both of our parts). More intense days, or moments within each day. She makes me belly laugh like I haven't done in years. She makes me more frustrated than I've ever been in my life. She gives me little butterflies in my stomach when she grins at me, hugs me, and tells me she loves me. She makes me question whether I'm strong enough to be her role model.  




When she goes to bed, after we've butted heads all day long, I sometimes want to cry. I'm not sure if it's because I lose my patience with her more often than her brothers, or if she pushes my buttons like none other, but parenting Cecelia definitely makes me pray for wisdom. For patience. For understanding. Cecelia has always made me pray harder than anything else can do, from the moment we found out she existed in my belly, through her rocky pregnancy, and now ever since she was born. My little fighter sure lives up to that description.

I know that she loves me. She is a great kid. I know she isn't even three years old yet and I should cut her some slack. But when she bursts into tears for the fifth time in two hours, all because she didn't get to open the door by herself since Truman did it for her, it gets to be a lot. She will scream bloody murder for minutes (hours if I let her) on end. Nothing appeases her, nothing soothes her when she is a hot mess. And this can happen at the drop of a hat, usually because something doesn't go her way.



And it's not even her emotional outbursts that are so trying. It's the fact that she will NOT use her words and talk through her emotions. She won't even answer 'yes' or 'no' to my questions when she has gone off the deep end. 

For instance, when she is crying because something happened that she didn't like, I will calmly pick her up and provide direct attention to just her. I'll ask if her feelings are hurt, if I can help, if we should do something else to distract her. That doesn't work. So next time I will be short and to the point, saying she has to tell me why she is crying or I can't help her. That doesn't work. I'll ask her to please use her words. 'Do you want me to kiss your knee that you hurt? Can I get you some ice?' Just tears, no words, no head nods. Nothing but pure, raw emotions coming out of that little mouth.

Then finally, if her fit doesn't somehow fix itself after a few minutes of despair, I'll carry her upstairs to have a 'break' in her bed with her pacifier. Literally, that is the only thing that will calm my girl when her crying escalates to the point of no return. Laying in her bed quietly, alone, sucking on her pacifier at nearly age three she is finally calm enough to deal with the rest of the day.

Of course, I feel guilty using the pacifier and a 'time out' as our final solution when everything else fails. At least we have that tool, I just wish we only had to resort to it once a week instead of multiple times some days. There could be worse things than a pacifier, I suppose.

Aside from little Missy's tantrums/refusal to talk about her feelings, she is an absolute living doll. She's stunningly gorgeous with her big baby blues, curly red hair, and devilish smile. She's taller than most kids her age and skinnier than her baby brother somehow. I hate to put too much emphasis on her superficial beauty, especially since she is our girl and there are so many complexities with body image and self worth to consider with our daughter. But dang, she is beautiful. 



I hope she loves her curls and doesn't fight them her entire life.

One of the many wishes I have for my daughter is that she will remain self-confident, stubborn, driven, and a fighter. Those are traits that will certainly benefit her as a woman in today's world. She may absolutely OWN us during her teenage years (hold me) but I like to think that her spunk means she will be something *big* someday. 



She could be a caregiver with her tender heart, always taking care of her baby dolls and requesting to help with Porter. She will be an excellent mommy someday, as long as she doesn't handle her actual children as rough as she does her baby dolls (i.e. carrying them by their hair, tossing to the ground when bored with them). She could be an athlete with her physical abilities climbing playgrounds right along side the five year old boys. She could be a veterinarian with her animal obsession---or a zookeeper, since this child would go to the zoo every day if we let her. She could be anything she wants to be, and I truly believe that statement when it comes to our girl. I just can't wait to see who she becomes. And yet, I want to keep her all to myself, to keep her little, to keep her innocent.



I love being a 'girl mom' and I love being *her* mom, no matter how much she kicks my butt. She is our biggest challenge and our biggest joy. She's just getting so stinking big and yet, I can't believe she isn't even three years old yet. Sometimes I'll just stare at her pictures in wonder, getting a glimpse into a fifteen year old CC. And I guess I don't feel too terribly frightened at the teenage Cecelia vision. She is just something else, man.



Oh, how I love this child. I am so thankful for our little spitfire, our firecracker, our middle child, our only daughter, our Cecelia. I am equally thankful for wine and naps. But mostly for her;)