That title can be taken so many different ways.
Cheyenne begins 6th grade in T-minus 17 hours.
Thank. Freakin’. God.
That girl has truly had one hell of a summer–full of softball and Disneyland and beaches and friends–and after 2 days of actual relaxation, the kid is driving me bonkers. It’s like she got used to all the activity and it was a real let-down to have to sit still in boring old Oklahoma for a minute. Yesterday her school held an open house; as soon as we approached the place her face crumpled up into a nasty scowl, and she assumed the customary "I so totally hate school" attitude, only it worsened with each minute we spent trying to find her classes and meet her teachers. I watched all the other girls running around, completely excited with smiles permanently pasted on their happy little faces, hugging one another…while Cheyenne sulked along the halls, hating life.
I don’t know if she just thinks it’s cool to act that way or what. She’s got friends–none of which were there last night when we were–and she’s one of the smartest kids in her grade…so no problems socially or academically. Where did this extreme negativity come from? I was so tired of it by the time we left that I gave her a pretty intense lecture (Mom, here’s where you can insert parental snort of triumph) on the value of thinking positively and staying in school, blah, blah, blah…
I have a feeling she neither listened nor cared.
Every few months or so our mother-daughter relationship gets a little more strained. I guess it’s the age; I flat out told my mom I hated her when I was 11…but man, THIS SUCKS. For the most part we get along, and I think she likes me at least a little bit. She did finally talk to me about having a teeny-tiny crush on a boy last year–that’s got to be progress.
Oooooo, I absolutely dread the next 7 years…
Mia turned 3 a few days ago. We had a pretty calm celebration and she got more presents than we can fit in our house–by the way Thank you to all you lovely family members that felt the need to send large items such as playhouses, big honkin’ plastic easels, etc. I can’t get too miffed about that since Caleb and I did in fact by her a soccer goal, a tricycle and a t-ball stand. So just about every room in the house has become a playroom for Mia. She did have a great birthday, I think.
Being 3 has given Mia a renewed sense of self–she refuses to believe that she is a GIRL and proclaims to anyone who will listen, "I AM A STINKY BOY, AND I AM NOT PRETTY AND I AM A BOY." She doesn’t like dresses and absolutely refuses to have her hair combed…Ratty t-shirts and camo-cargo shorts are the outfit of choice these days, and she likes to say her name is Diego. Sitting still and quietly reading a book is not an option; not when she could kick a ball or ride her tricycle around the living room at the speed of sound. Caleb thought it was pretty cool that his little girl is such a super-extreme tomboy…until I pointed out to him that if we do too much encouraging we’ll wind up with a mulleted softball player more manly than any son we’d ever have. I was allowed to force Mia to wear ruffled socks with her cargos.
And those are my darling little girls, growing up way too fast and way differently than I ever imagined. And that’s just fine with me.