Remember This

I would like everyone to look away for a moment as I get a little sentimental. I need to record this somewhere to look back on for myself on a hard day.

I had one of those moments the other day where I was able to see a little bit of the big picture, where I could step back from the tantrums, bodily functions, cleaning, and other odious tasks reserved specially for parents and come to a small understanding of what I'm supposed to be doing, and I would like to record it, briefly, so I don't forget.

Anda has been prone to tantrums lately. It's true that whoever came up with the phrase "terrible twos" did not yet have a three year old. In between these bouts of horror, she's still as sweet as can be--funny, joyful, loving, helpful. And I definitely understand, in my rational brain, that this is just a part of childhood, growing up, and testing boundaries and the way the world works. But sometimes the fits come in close waves after a night with too little sleep, and just when I'm surfacing for air from the last, another one comes crashing down right on top of me and I just can't catch my breath.

After several days of these waves, Anda woke me up around 6:00 am--not for the first time (unacceptable, in my brain, with her 9:00 pm bed time, but that's an entirely different issue). I am not a person who functions well with less than 8 solid hours of sleep, so even with a baby who sleeps great at night, the 5:00 feeding plus an unexpected wake up at 6 usually spells a pretty rough day for me, and consequently, for us. However, this particular morning I decided to take a deep breath and have a good day anyway. This may come naturally to some people, but not to me. I must sleep. In order to do this, to have this "good day," I knew we needed to avoid tantrums at all costs. So I made another decision: I was going to pick my battles.

The important things to me that day were 1. Running some errands, 2. Making sure Anda ate food that wasn't entirely composed of sugar and bright colors, and 3. Keeping the girls alive. So when Anda asked to wear her torn, over-sized Rapunzel costume dress while we ran errands, I said, "Sure." When she refused to let me put any accessories in to tame her wild hair, I said "Whatever." When I asked her which item of jewelry she wanted to complete my BOGO 50% off purchase and she chose one that cost three times my initial selection, I said, "Ok." And when she hid in the clothes racks while I was looking for jeans to fit my new, depressing post-baby body and kept knocking everything in front of her off the hangers, I just picked them back up and let her keep playing in her little "house" where she "belonged." Through all of this, after a very long morning of errands, she was a very good girl.

Now I'm arriving at my point.

Because she was such a good girl, we stayed at the mall for another half hour so she could play in the very lame attempt at a liability-proof play area for children that they have there. As soon as we sat down, another little girl ran up to Anda and asked her to be her friend. Anda eagerly agreed to the arrangement, so they took hands and were off, immediately giggling and hugging like I'd imagine sisters do if they are kinder and more affectionate than I ever was with my sisters (sorry, girls). I loved that little girl, partly for entertaining Anda while I took care of Lilah's needs, but mostly for being just as sweet as my little girl.

Don't get me wrong, most kids we meet are very nice, funny, playful, etc. But Anda has this trait where she is kind to a fault sometimes. I once berated a little girl at the public library (whose parents weren't around) because she kept snatching toy trains away from Anda as soon as she picked one up to play with it. In response to the lecture, Anda attempted to give all the trains I had handed her back to the little bully girl. I've also been at the water park, about ten feet away from her, while a little six year old maliciously ran up and splashed my giggling, prancing little girl in the face with a wave of water (it was no accident--I saw her face as it happened, and as soon as I yelled, "HEY! What is your problem?" she turned, horrified and sheepish and mumbled a terrified "Sorry!"). Anda wasn't mad, but she was deeply hurt and confused that a person would do that, and I'm not sure she'll ever really understand that kind of behavior.

So watching my little ragamuffin in her worn-out princess costume holding hands and giggling and playing with another little girl who really seemed to get it--who was just as loving and excited and sweet to others as Anda is in her most basic nature, showed me a mirror of the little girl I have behind the tantrums and fits--a mirror I was ready to see because I'd been able to come up for air that day. When she's obstinate and won't listen and yells and gets upset, she isn't trying to make my life harder; she's just trying to figure things out. Because life can be hard to understand, especially for sweet people. I worry about her constantly--I worry about the bullies, and the mean girls, and the damaging boyfriends that could easily be in her future and who could hurt and take advantage of her. And through these fits and tantrums, it's my job to teach her that while that isn't the way to get what we want, getting stepped all over is not an acceptable alternative either. I still need to find a good way to strike that balance, but I'm working on it.

In the mean time, it was comforting for me to see someone else who was sweet and loving, and that she took to Anda right away, and vice-versa. There are plenty of other kids out there who will not hurt my little girl. And there will be people out there like me, too, who will see the great thing that little girl did in taking my daughter's hand and loving her so quickly and easily--they will see Anda do the same for someone they care about, and she will create positive and strong relationships in that way.

In the end, when it was time to go, Anda came willingly with me without a fight. But as we were almost out of sight, we heard a little voice call out, "Wait!" We turned, and Anda's little friend sprinted over to us, grabbed Anda by the shoulders, and gave her a big kiss.

We've had plenty of tantrums since then, and I've lost sight of this moment over and over again--and this was only a few days ago. But that's why I needed to write this down. Just to remind myself that it's hard to be little, but it's also kind of fantastic.

End sentimentality. Your usual program of pictures, flat descriptions, and the occasional snark will now resume.