Up and down night

Tonight was truly an up-and-down one:

When I picked Rachel up from school, she had forgotten her sweater downstairs. So we went to her new classroom and she said, "Mommy, do you want me to show you where everything is?" And instead of rushing us out to the park to catch the last rays of sunlight, I said, sure. And I was so, so proud of her as she gave me a little tour: their play kitchen, their puppets, the library area where she smiled sweetly and suggested I could read her a book, which of course I did, and the teacher's desk where she asked me if I needed a tissue or a wipe. She's so grown-up these days, it's breathtaking -- when I look at her at the top of play structures and she's so tall and her face looks less baby-like every day, and I realize my little girl isn't so little anymore.

Then we went to Sunnyside Park, and she impressed me into shock when she made it ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE MONKEY BARS WITHOUT MOMMY'S HELP!!! I was stunned. And then, when she jumped down on the ground, she started screaming in pain -- she had bitten her tongue, and I hustled her over to the bench, took her in my arms and opened her mouth. There was a lot of blood, and I tried to remain calm and soothing while I kept thinking, "Should I take her to the emergency room?? ACK!!!" But it cleared up eventually, and I held her tight while rocking her back and forth and singing, "Roll on, Columbia." I let her do one more play structure activity before I insisted on going home for dinner (it was 7:30 by then and we had spent 45 minutes at the park) and, true to form, she did the monkey bars again and I grabbed her middle and hoisted her down gently. I praised her lavishly for getting right back up and trying again....kind of a continuation of my lecture last night when she was riding her bike and got frustrated because she couldn't quite get it, and she wanted to quit and I basically said NO. Don't you EVER quit, I said. We are not a household of quitters. (It's true. Some of us, who shall remain nameless, stay at jobs way too long until we're, ahem, pushed to the curb).

As I was preparing dinner, Rachel brought over a sample of her baby hair that I had stored in a beautiful engraved silver box that my college roommate, Charon, had gotten for Rachel when she was born. I told her rather sternly to put it back where she found it. Then a couple of minutes later I heard a tinkle, and Rachel started crying -- she had broken a figurine I'd gotten years ago at the Portland Japanese Garden.

I told her angrily to go to her room while I tried to figure out how to fix the thing (hoping Drew can repair it with SuperGlue), and then I was very short with her while I finished dinner prep and we sat down. All the while she was crying hysterically in great, gulping sobs. "Do you still love me?" she tearfully asked at one point, and I said, "that's not the point." And then I sat down with her to dinner and told her to never, ever touch the things on the bookcase. I had her repeat it again and again, hoping it will stick (but I removed the more fragile knickknacks to the top shelves). I don't want to be one of those moms who fills the house with fragile, glossy things that the kids can't touch, but I also want Rachel to realize that some things in life are to look at, not to touch (as I explained to her after we'd both calmed down) and she can't just carelessly handle and break Mommy's things, because they mean something to Mommy and they can't be replaced. (well, in this case they can be, but that's not the point). When she asked me why as we were reading books, I told her that her hands are too little. "But they'll get big," she said, and I explained that when they get big she'll have more control over them. That seemed to satisfy her.

***

On the way to school today, Rachel had a thing or two to say about princesses.

"I'm the best kind of princess!" she exclaimed.
"Why are you the best kind of princess?" I asked.
"Because I like to go on adventures!" she answered. "Some princesses just sit around all day. They sit and sit, until dinner."

***

She also told me about her friend Sadie, whose birthday party she will attend this Saturday.

"Mommy, guess what? Because I'm older than Sadie, my dresses are longer than hers!" Rachel said. She also said Sadie got her long hair cut short because she wanted it to look like Rachel's.