I'll Stop the World and Melt With You

Before having children, I subconsciously assumed that my children would share most of my characteristics, both in appearance and temperament. Then Anna was born. Fair skinned, with blue eyes that stuck around past the 6-month mark, I was surprised that someone looking like her came from me. We joked that she must have been switched at birth, as Tom's eyes are green and mine are brown, but agreed that if that had really happened, we got the better end of the deal. She was a sweet, easy baby.

As Anna gets older, I'm finding that we differ in more than appearance. My boys, so far, are pretty easy for me to understand. Jonathan responds to situations pretty much as I would. Braden requires regular feeding, naps, books, diaper changes, and cuddling and he's set. With Anna, I have to work hard to figure out what is going on inside that little person.

I like this picture because it captures many aspects of her personality. Creative and whimsical, she is her own person. She's smart and articulate, correctly telling my speech-therapist mom which kids in her kindergarten class need speech therapy and which sounds they need to work on. She is brave when faced with new situations. On her first day of 3-year old preschool, she walked away from me without a goodbye and has hardly looked back. She is friendly and happy. My neighbor has described Anna as "flitting through life". She thinks that "Anna is all love."

Right now, one of Anna's more overwhelming characteristics is that she is VERY EMOTIONAL. Unfortunately, she finds herself born into a family of analytical thinkers, whose emotions, although present, are easily overruled by logic most of the time. Anna is 5 1/2, so I'm not expecting Dr. Spock, but having hung out with lots of other 5-year olds recently, I still believe Anna falls on the VERY EMOTIONAL end of the spectrum. Just today I can think of 5 separate crying incidents, not to mention episodes of unbridled anger, silliness, and joy.

My first inclination when faced with these sob fests is to tell her to pull herself together immediately. I want the drama to end quickly, especially when we're in public. But after the heat of the moment, I realize that this response is typically based on my own anger or embarrassment. So I pray for the wisdom to deal with this in a way that won't send her to counseling 20 years from now. I still haven't found a great response. Sympathy and empathy evoke more and more tears. Consequences evoke more and more tears. The only thing that seems to work is giving her the time she needs to fall apart.

I can already tell that this complex little girl is going to stretch me way beyond my comfort zone and bring me to my knees. She's one of the the best things that have ever happened to me.