My first-born hooligan just turned 7. And by "just" I mean the end of March. Turnaround time on the blog sometimes gets the better of me. 7 is a big number, and a scary one for a Momma. I remember when she turned 5 it was huge because she was no longer my preschooler and would be starting kindergarten. That was a tough pill to swallow. 6 came and was fine although the thought of first grade almost made me want to cry. But 7. Ugh and then second grade. Next thing I know she will be asking to borrow my Honda and wishing I had a good stash of make-up she could get into. Sigh, where oh where does it all go?
This child has been the life of the party since the moment she was born. She is as precocious as the day is long and so independent and crafty that I almost can't stand it. We butt heads on a daily basis, but I have to sit back and admire her self determination and creativity. As a parent you spend so much time worrying and planning and hoping that your child grows into a person with manners and a kind heart and a good, strong head on their shoulders. I think it is in the time right there spent worrying and planning that they all of a sudden grow up on you.
I am sometimes surprised that Louisa's first words weren't "I've got this." Because she does. And she always has. Here's hoping that this stubborn, independent, mind of her own, determined little Amy always does. I see so much of myself in her personality that it amazes me. I can remember my grandmother (who was small too) telling me that since I was small I needed to be fiery. I may or may not have taken her too seriously. I will let those of you that know me be the judge. :) But I passed that same piece of knowledge down to Lou. And I was talking with a teacher at her school one day and she told me how she overhead Louisa telling a friend at school that since she was small she needed to pack a punch. She said the friend asked what that meant and Louisa told her that it meant she was short and needed to know how to start a fire. So, at least I know she somewhat listens to me. Haha. I always think of Shakespeare saying "Though she be but little, she is fierce." My little fire-starting 7 year old.
If I had to choose one word to describe a theme of Louisa's life it would be this one...drama. She is no stranger to the dramatics. She is all or nothing, jumping head first into whatever she can get into. Events in her life don't just happen, they are experienced by one little girl that is quite possibly Oscar-worthy. A splinter isn't just a splinter, it is a bloody-murder scream with a stick the size of a tree wedged into her tiny little finger. A good song isn't just that, it is her FAVORITE and OH MY GOODNESS she could just listen to it all day. Her inventions aren't just tinkers, they are THE BEST IDEA ever. Pink sandals aren't just shoes they are THE SPARKLIEST BEST things her feet have ever seen. You get my drift, right? The child is passionate, without a doubt. And I love her for that. And deep down in my heart I hope that she keeps that love of life, just as it is.
While I am on the subject of drama, let's talk about losing teeth. Oh dear me. As a mom and a previous nurse, I can handle most of the ewwy-gooey-grossness that comes with the territory. However, I have never been a fan of the loose teeth. I can remember a little boy patient of mine that would tease me to no end twirling his teeth around by a thread hoping that I would lost my cool just once while drawing his labs. The hairs on the back of my neck stood just thinking about it. Gag. Well, Louisa loves the idea of having a loose tooth and wiggling it around and teasing me with it, but the thought of pulling it out makes her pull out her Oscar-worthy dramatics. Let's just talk about this front tooth that she actually has turned around backwards here.
I mean, really. She was so proud of herself by the way that she couldn't stand it. Clearly, that tooth just needed to be pulled and I begged her to let me do it. Instead, she insisted on doing it herself. So, I sat there in the bathroom pale and wobbly-kneed as a reinforcement to wipe up any blood and make sure she didn't fall of the vanity.
At one point, she made herself so squeamish that she actually bit down and when her bottom tooth touched that top tooth it just fell out. Seriously, 30 minutes in the bathroom (after bedtime might I add) crying, carrying on and with my blood pressure almost bottoming out...the tooth came out accidentally. I had to laugh.
Seriously, that was just ONE tooth in that spot. Makes me a bit nervous to see what that permanent big girl tooth is going to look like. Makes me think she also got her Momma's big teeth. Whoops.
Anyways, a happy belated to the sweetest, smartest, best daughter I have ever had. I love you and all of your dramatics, and there will be a day when I will miss the blood-curdling scream that occurs when a poor, pitiful bug just so happens to find it's way into our house. :)