I know I brag about my Anna a lot. Hey, I'm her Mom. And a blogger. It's my job (literally). I also complain about her on occasion, but again - I'm her Mom. Mother-daughter relationships are never easy.
This week has been kind of a rough one for Anna - I'm not at liberty to get into the why of it (that's her story to tell someday) but suffice it to say she's getting some bullying on subtle and not-so-subtle levels from some of the kids at school over a recent issue. Anna has always been a low-key kid and has never had so much as a write-up in all her years of school, so this is rough on her. She's handling it all amazingly well and with a lot of class, but yesterday - well, I guess she'd just had enough.
[This is a re-run of a previously published blog. I think it still says all I have to say today.]
We lay snuggling in my bed, our nightly ritual after bathing, putting on jammies, reading and discussing the school day. I’d put her brother to bed a few minutes before her, then we snuggled in under the big comforter and she picked a subject for us to discuss – another ritual. The sky is the limit, and the only caveat is time: ten minutes to be exact. Then I put her into bed with a kiss and an ‘I love you’ and a promise to meet up with her in my dreams that night. The night before we’d decided to meet in Egypt, to see the pyramids together. I hadn’t yet received the dream destination for the evening, but I knew she’d get around to picking someplace.
"So what’s the subject, Boo?" I asked, brightly, as I pulled her close.
"Holidays.” She said. “Like Labor Day or Thanksgiving. Why don’t we have the day off to celebrate 9-11?"
I stared at her, at a loss for a moment. Once again, I have to wrap my head around something enormous and make it understood in a way she'd understand. You’d think it gets easier as she gets older, but it doesn’t really. She understands more now, and it’s a fine line between giving her the answers she’s looking for and information overload.
"Sweetie, we don’t celebrate 9-11. It’s not really a “celebration” kind of day."
"Oh, I meant the other word. You know…starts with a “C” and it means remember." She says.
"Yeah, commemorate. A girl in my class is going with her parents to some field to commemorate. She’s missing school that day. We should all be off that day."
"Oh," I say, with realization dawning. "She’s going to Shanksville."
They pose for a selfie, in the bright summer sunshine
When days are halcyon and filled with the smell of freshly-mown grass and sunblock sprayed haphazardly The warmth on their backs and the smiles on their faces, still flushed from the bike ride they just took Glorying in their youth, their energy, their boundless freedom And I glory with them Glad that they've captured this moment And wishing, oh, how I'm wishing, they can hold onto that feeling forever Let it always be summer for them, where it counts [Follow Ellie's Divorce Diaries Blog at WomansDay.com or join the fun on Facebook and Twitter]
I am officially down eight pounds since last week. Holy crap.
And no, I don't mean that literally. You'd think with all the extra fruits, whole grains and veggies I'd be in serious intestinal distress (at the very least, you'd think my bacon-loving insides would be scream WTF? at the top of their lungs) but I'm remarkably not having a lot of issues in that area.