many of you are familiar with the uniqueness of my daughter Emily. She’s seven. she was born in 2001, and yet, many of my friends, i believe, would rather be friends with her than with me. She’s funny. She’s pretty. She’s wicked smart. She’s got great rhythm. She has way better style than her mom. she like what i like – boys, clothes, shopping, tv. she and i are well on our way to becoming very gilmore girls-ian
i had her when i was just shy of turning 23. i had an infant when i still was, well, an infant. when she was born, i was terrified. i didn’t know how to make sure i fed myself…how was i going to be responsible to make sure someone else got fed??! so, i did what i knew. i used instinct, not books. i used common sense, not somebody else’s methods. i believed in bedtimes. and routines. and rules. and it worked. Emily was a great baby. the icing on the cake. easygoing. happy. slept through the night at 4 weeks.
and then when she was 20 months old, she got herself a giant wake-up call. a baby brother. so, that was when my perfect little baby turned into the perfect little diva. it started the day she turned 2 and decided that she HAD to only wear skirts. 17 pairs of pants shelved for the next baby girl. skirts. dresses. only. and you couldn’t be her friend if you wore pants. oh no. she was TWO. and it hasn’t stopped since. she’s a girl who knows what she wants. she’s a girl without self-esteem issues (oh her first day of a new school she passed around a sheet of paper for people to write down their phone numbers. she was 6) she’s a girl with an independent woman spirit.
only she’s also a girl who has a little problem.
she has become a LEECH.
an appendage. and what’s she leeching on to these days?
oh. me. lucky, lucky me.
i pull out my camera to take my daily photo for the working closet pool (which YOU should join), and there she is:
i go to pose for a picture in the pool…and there she is:
everywhere i turn, there she is.
if i’m eating something, she wants to try it. if i’m doing a sudoku, she wants to fill the numbers in. if i’m watching tv in bed, i find Emily snuggled into me, her head resting on my shoulder. if i sit down at the computer, there’s Emily, wanting to see what i’m doing. kitchen, dining room, family room, basement. wherever i go. she follows.
when we go to Jack and Ilana’s…when she used to run off and lead the kids in ‘playing camp’…now she sits with the adults. she sits and listens. and soaks it all in. i have to watch what i say. all the time.
and then, of course, there are times when i forget she’s there. like when the discussion of Cheesecake Factory fish tacos came up
me: “just the sound of the ‘fish taco‘ makes me NEVER want to order it!”
tova: “oh, right, because you don’t like fish”
me: “no, it’s because i don’t like vagina”
and there was Emily. sitting there. smiling away. my appendage.
i love her. and i love that she loves to spend time with me. she’s an awesome little girl and i know she and i are going to be best friends. i love to hang out with her. i love to shop with her. and cook with her. and watch tv with her.
but i am suffocating. i NEED my space.