Merry Christmas 2009

As I write this, Ella is downstairs painting her nails with the girl who lives across the street and we are snowed in with 18 inches of God’s frozen creation on the ground and more falling as part of the biggest storm to hit Virginia in ten years. We, apparently, are in for a very white Christmas.

In truth, the deluge of snow is apropos as I sit down to reflect upon the last year in our household. For this year, as in years past, God has opened up his bag of wonders and mercies and poured them down upon us. Every year I am certain He cannot possibly outdo Himself from the year before. And then He does.

Spring brought the completion of Ella’s kindergarten year at Tall Oaks Montessori and the end of her time there. Saying goodbye was especially poignant as her best friend in all the world, Lindsey Cliff, moved away in June. But summer camps brought her a fresh crop of new friendships and exciting experiences, from inventing rockets to dancing at Stepping Out to horseback riding. We capped off Ella’s summer with a family trip to the beach with aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents on the heels of Aunt Kim and Uncle Brian’s wedding.

My summer was anything but mundane. Around Valentine’s Day, Mike asked me what parts of the world I wanted to see. The next thing I knew, we were planning an ten-day trip to Italy for June. It was amazing and awesome and wonderful to explore one of the most romantic countries in the world with the person who defines romance for you. From the Alps to Venice to the Lamborghini factory in Modena, we covered 1500 miles in 8 short days. It was a journey I will never forget!

Fall brought the return of familiar routines in unfamiliar settings as Ella started first grade at Kipps Elementary. It took maybe a week for Kipps to feel like home. I am in the office on Mondays and in her classroom on Thursdays, and we both feel embraced by the learning community there. Ella was invited to join the Performing Arts Company at Dance Tech this year and danced the role of an angel in the Nutcracker. She is a second-year Daisy Girl Scout and a dedicated Melody choir member.

I am continuing my work at VTTI and my role as supportive taxi driver and planner of weekend events for Mike, Ella and me. This year we have been exploring fun things to do in Greensboro, N.C., discovering new restaurants (Fatz Café in Dublin is a new favorite, as well as Zaxby’s in Salem), and enjoying the wonder of being in one place together.

I continue to marvel at Mike’s ability to balance the demands of running a business with his usual stellar contribution to our partnership. His willingness to share everything with me and his infectious passion for the things he cares about combine to keep a sparkle in my eye and a spring in my step even on the longest of days.

In this blessed season of celebration and awe as we rejoice in the coming of our Savior once more, our family extends to yours our warmest wishes for a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Lessons from Sleeping Beauty

Ours is a Sleeping Beauty household. Sometimes multiple times a day. During one recent viewing I began to ponder the approach the king and queen took to parenting with Aurora- isolating their daughter from potential danger by banishing all spinning wheels, with their perilous spindles, from the kingdom. At first glance, not a bad strategy, akin to following your child around with a bottle of antibacterial hand wash for the first five years of life. Upon further reflection, it became apparent to me that the royal parents were actually doing their child a disservice in insulating her from the spinning wheels of life rather than equipping her to deal with the challenges she will inevitably have to confront.

Every little girl is enthralled by the scene of the handsome prince rescuing his damsel in distress with a kiss. Such is the stuff of which dreams are made. As a mother, I cringe at the thought of Ella waiting around for someone to rescue her, romantic as it may seem. I want her to right her own wrongs, to wield her own sword against the injustices of her world.

To do this, I must do what is perhaps the hardest thing for a mother: allow her to know, in incremental ways, that the world is not the happy place scored by the song of woodland creatures that we would all like to pretend it is, if only until our girls finish first grade. I must take her hand and stand abreast with her, pointing out danger and explaining the best way to deal with it, rather than tuck her away behind my skirts as my heart longs to do.

Cutting the Strings

This week marked the commencement of my daughter's first-grade experience. In the last three days alone, there have been numerous watershed moments in which her mother, bursting with pride at Ella's newfound independence and at the same time reluctant to relinquish the last vestiges of babyhood in her only child, was forced to confront the reality that Ella, sensing this hesitance, is more than willing to sever the apron strings herself. The first cut came on Monday as we entered her new elementary school building for Meet the Teacher night. My unconscious reaching for her hand was met with a glare and words barely uttered through clenched teeth, "Mom, I will walk beside you, but we will not be holding hands." This with a reminder of her earlier admonishment not to smile at anyone lest they question my mental stability, thus rendering her a social pariah at the getgo.

A second snip, and perhaps the unkindest cut, came early Wednesday morning. I had explained to her the night before that I would not be walking her in- first-graders walk alone. This explanation had been proffered with every expectation that she would balk the next day and I would have to employ my uber-mommy powers of persuasion to convince her that she could in fact make the trek from van to classroom solo. All morning I looked for cracks in her composure, signs that I would have to make the carefully rehearsed speech I was sure was an inevitability. Nothing. Nada. Zip. She sat calmly the entire ride to school, listening intently to the first book in the Harry Potter series as I tried to control my emotions, contemplating that the six pound wonder I had carried home from the hospital was in fact about to enter the first grade. I thought for sure I had her when we pulled into the circle and observed other parents escorting their charges to kindergarten. Not a word. I pulled up to the entrance and responded to Ella's assertion that there was no adult there to extract her from the car with a gentle, "Honey, the nice lady at the door works here. You just need to walk to her and if you need help from there she can help you.", certain this would produce the expected avalanche of tears.

There was no, "But Mommy...", no, "I can't do thiiiis." She simply nodded, grabbed her gear, hopped out of the car, waved and sauntered into the building as if she was born to do this.

And indeed she was. Just as her mother was born to let her, even if she has to force herself to do so through a veil of tears borne of both pride and loss.