Thursday, September 9, 2010

the folds of my day

i have been under the impression that my daughter is predisposed to certain childhood traits i believed firmly to be mine. to watch them played out before me, her interpretation of them shining bright on pink bathroom tiles, i realize that perhaps maybe these traits are not mine in the first place. perhaps my great-grandmother refused to get her face wet when she bathed. perhaps she was afraid of water falling from above her and splashing onto her delicate skin. perhaps the irrational idea that lukewarm water was as dangerous as a rolling boil merely came from fairy tales and catholocism. whatever the origin, i found myself in awe of my daughter and her adamant refusal to stand under shower water or get her hair washed without a fight.

she started preschool yesterday. i wore every cliche on my sleeve yesterday and even found myself in the middle of a tunnel, echoes of time standing still and rushing past orbed around me. i wondered who she sat with at lunch and if anyone hurt her feelings. i thought about her laying down for naptime and worried she felt abandoned that i did not get to sing her 'i am your sunshine' before realizing i hold onto these moments more than she. she takes change a lot better than i do.

in her bath last night, she talked and talked and talked and then asked me for a shower. she pointed at the showerhead.
'water? shower? for me?'
i turned it on and she scooted all the way to the edge of the tub, her toes barely getting wet.
minutes later, with only a tiny suggestion from me, she stood, head up and backed into the downpour of water. drops landed on her cheeks, her eyes, the top of her head. i called bryan in and he looked at her and then at me.
'how did you do that?'
'i didn't," i said. 'she did.'


  1. I think sometimes parents worry to the point of being afraid to wait and let their children discover in their own time. Mine did. You and I are fascinated with the wonder in our child's eyes.

    So many people have ideas and attitudes of expectation. There is so much delight and wonder in letting a child gain their own momentum and discovery.

    I completely adored this post dear friend. I'm trying to be more like Finn. I want that bravado mixed in with just enough innocence, I still wonder...(Hugs)Indigo

  2. I've got tears Krista... the last few sentences. So beautiful, and simply profound.
    Was thinking of you after our email exchange, hoping the day was good to you both.

  3. Love this- wish I had had a mom like you!Mine is predisposed to bend until breakage to get you to do something- random things that she thinks are important- sigh. Kids inner lives are so fascinating.

  4. I didn't. She did.

    You nailed it. (I adore you, woman.)

  5. *sniff* That was such a sweet story. - G

  6. "I didn't. She did." Isn't that usually the way? I still haven't entirely learned to accept that she will do it (whatever "it" is in a given situation) without my making it happen. But it is lovely when she does it, isn't it?

  7. Growing up......

    I hate it. I love it. It makes me cry. Every time.

  8. I came in from Erin's blog to find another artist here. Beautiful writing.

  9. You really took me back with this post - reliving all those times I tried to get your head wet not without a fierce struggle. Our Finn is truly a special and very independent in-her-own-time person and we are so lucky to be part of it - I love reading all these posts for the times I'm not there - makes me feel like I'm standing in the background too......Love you 3 SO MUCH. Mom

  10. Miracles, mind bending miracles. Small movies in your life. No ending. Acts of god. Candy store surprises. Pain, abdominal pain with no name. These little people. They're like...ya, miracles, miracles, small movies and candy store surprises. Your's is gorgeous and I am so happy in the gut that you see her. Powerful, she is. And you, a wonder.



use your kind words.