Never one to be outdone, my daughter proved to be as much a challenge in her own right as my son. From the beginning, it was clear that, although born second, she would never take a back seat to anyone.
During that pregnancy, I had hyperemesis, pre-term labor, bed rest, and finally a premature birth. She may have been bored with the pregnancy thing, but I wasn't, and all the way to the delivery room, which in my case was a surgical suite, I kept saying, "I am NOT having this baby today. I'm not ready."
Once again, the baby failed to consult the manual, and she came in her own time and her own way. Which means too early, and with a lot of fuss and fanfare. I had people sticking me from all sides, while rushing me into the operating room. The anesthetic didn't work, so they would cut and I would yell, and they would assure me that I couldn't possibly be feeling that pain in my abdomen that I was obviously feeling. She had no apgar score. And her lungs were underdeveloped. So ya. The fun never ends in the parent-hood.
When she finally got to come home, I got to go back for a week. Did you know it is possible to not have a blood pressure and still be alive? Well, it is. But not for long.
Eventually, we all ended up at home, and although tiny enough to hold in one hand, our little darling soon revealed herself as a despot. She was only home a few days when we saw her first pout, a look that would become a favorite tool. But she soon learned to charm us with her smile, as well, realizing that she could beam herself into anything she wanted.
The little princess was a born performer, and she started putting on a show from the moment she could walk. She would cruise the furniture, waiting for us to notice and cheer her on, before finishing the trip. Then she learned to talk and sing, and she began to perform in earnest.
One day, she was perhaps two or so, while she was singing and dancing for me, the appreciative audience, she decided to sing her A, B. C's. I started to sing with her, and she stopped and looked at me with a most exasperated expression. Then she said, "NO. Don't sing." She wanted the stage to herself, and she did not need a sidekick!
She flirted with disaster, as most kids do. You wouldn't know you had been a parent if you didn't have a few stomach sinking moments to relate. One of the earliest was when we moved into our new house. She was about a year old, and walking was still a new experience. She loved to walk up the stairs more than anything, and if she got to the top, she would stand and smirk at me because she got away with it.
Her brother was doing a puzzle on the newly installed dining room table, and she was wandering in and out as we pulled up old carpeting, which we needed to replace. All of a sudden, we heard Adam yell from the entryway, "GET IN HERE NOW." We ran out there to find them in the little hallway at the top of the stairs overlooking the entry , him inside the railing holding her arm as tightly as he could while she squirmed and tried to wiggle loose a full story above the tile. I saw her life pass before my eyes that day, and it was way too short. So she not only owes her brother her name (he picked it,) she also owes him her life.
Erin is a very funny girl. She is sharp, both in wit and in temper, and both are often on display together. The funniest family story we have involves an angry three year old, and a stunning show of intellect. She and her brother had been playing together when he came downstairs. Although I was sitting in the living room at the bottom of the stairway, she apparently did not realize it, as her angry eyes were fixed on her brother. As she stomped down the steps, she said, "Adam, you are so stu...." when she realized that he was not alone. With hardly a pause for breath, she finished up, "...pendous."
Well.
You can imagine my shock that a three year old even knew the word, to say nothing of her ability to come up with it in the heat of the moment like that! I wanted to keep a straight face and call her on the carpet for what I knew she was originally going to say, but it just wasn't possible, of course. We all burst out laughing, and it has become a favorite family anecdote.
Another hilarious incident occurred a couple of years later, when she was well into her princess phase. I was again sitting in the living room one afternoon, when she came strolling down the stairway, lightly brushing her hand on top of the rail. She looked at me, quite seriously, and said, "I am the Queen." I looked back at her and replied, "And I am the dictator." She was momentarily non-plussed, then asked, "What is a dictator?" When I told her the dictator was the Queen's boss, she looked chagrined, then said, "Well, in that case, I need lunch."
Erin loved dolls from her first moments, and she was always asking for baby dolls and Barbie dolls. While I was fine with baby dolls, and think it's good for both boys and girls to have them available, I was going to be one of those "enlightened" mothers who didn't allow my kids to play with guns or Barbie dolls. Naturally, my son started using his finger for his gun at age two, and my daughter latched onto Barbie before she could even talk. She had an extensive collection by the time she was eight or nine, complete with house, hot tub with Roman-Greco columns, and a red convertible. We still have three large plastic barrels full of Barbie accouterments, in case she has a moment of nostalgia, in fact. Or a daughter of her own someday, in which case, she will save herself a fortune by just passing her own stuff along.
Have you ever had a really good look at Barbie? If your daughter actually looked like that, you would hospitalize her. So of course, I always pointed out that Barbie was not real, and hers was not a look that anyone should try to achieve.
The old saying goes that girls are made of sugar and spice and everything nice. I am guessing that person was not harboring the teenaged variety under their own roof, or they wouldn't have used the word "nice." The movie, "Mean Girls," is not fiction, it's real life in the hallways of America's high schools. When your daughter tells you that you don't know what it's like, she is probably right.
Instead of telephones connected to the kitchen wall, and within the earshot of your mother, we have cell phones that make harassment a 24/7 opportunity from the privacy of your own bedroom. Instead of a slam book passed around at school, and eventually confiscated, we have facebook, where you can assassinate the character of your entire class in an afternoon, haunting them, and possibly you, for all eternity. It's a jungle out there, and the animals are now in charge.
Having a daughter means never having to be overly confident, because they will not hesitate to cut you down to size. But they are also loving, caring, selfless creatures who will remember your birthday and shower you with priceless homemade presents, make you dinner when you are sick (toast and coke are good for you when you are sick,) and bring hearts and rainbows and the color pink into your life. You will learn that there are over 400 different beanie babies, and you will go on your own personal safari to find them all because it will make her happy. You will hold your breath when she falls off her bicycle, because you can't stand to see your precious little girl get hurt, but then you will see how tough she really is as she pushes her face into a grimace and gets right back on to try again. You will feel sick to your stomach the first time she drives away from you, and you will find yourself feeling warm all over (and I am not talking hot flashes here) when you see her in her first high school dance outfit.
Having a girl has been the Everest of roller coasters (it's at Animal Kingdom in Disney World, and if you haven't been, you have missed out on quite a ride.) It has turned my world upside down, and in doing so, made everything right. My girl is the one who has been with me for the toughest moments of my life, and I cannot imagine going through it with anyone else. Barbie doesn't live here any more, but I'm sure glad Erin does. Cheers!
