Reflecting

Eleanor turned 5 yesterday, and we’re still in celebration mode. My living room looks like a party store and toy store had a baby that blew up. Several of her balloons have met an untimely end, but her giant pink 5 is safe in her room, and Baby Sister is far too interested in sharing a Big Sister’s spoils. Especially her dolls. 

And I’m left reflecting. Five years ago I was in the hospital recovering. The day before I had caught my own daughter during an unforgettable car ride a short an hour and a half after my first contraction. She certainly made an impression with her arrival, and has continued to make one ever since, but I worry most about the impression I will have on her. 

She pushes me, literally every day, to be the kind of woman she can look up to and be proud of. To not repeat devastating generational mistakes that she’ll have to recover from but to give her a childhood she can thrive off of. When she tells me “I want to be just like you, Mama.” it gives me no choice but to be the woman she deserves. One she can look up to and be proud of. Who owns her mistakes, learns from them, and does her best not to make them again. One who can celebrate her own light without dimming another’s, and who always lifts another up instead of climbing over them when they fall. 

She has a big, bold, loud personality. The same personality traits that are described in her brothers as being “leadership quality”, “confident”, and “outspoken” are considered “bossy”, “stubborn”, and “pushy” in her. And yes, the  fiery, sassy, “my way or the highway” attitude that she embodies drives me crazy some days, but it will be the little bit extra she needs to get through in the insanity that is the world she must grow in. She will be a leader, a go getter, and a bad ass Warrior Princess, and it’s likely that she’ll do it in heels, glitter, and perfectly applied lipstick in a shade of “Don’t F@$k With Me” fuchsia. And I will always be there cheering that big personality on. 

Five years flew by, and even as I watch her grow I reflect on all the ways she’s helped me grow too. I didn’t know what I’d do with her when she arrived, and I still don’t more often than not, but I was even less prepared for what she’d do with me. 

Here’s to the next 5 years! And the 10 after that! And the 80 after that! It’s sure not to be boring, whatever may come!