I posted on Facebook that Gem wants to be a dinosaur ballerina when she grows up, and our my cousins responded with shock. The shock, it turns out, was appropriate. Unbeknownst to us, they were in the midst of planning a dinosaur ballerina birthday party for their soon-to-be 3-year-old. Their little girl is even more crazy about dinosaurs than Gem, and knows ALL the dinosaurs.
This should be cute, I thought.
I had no idea.
When we arrived at the birthday party, Gem was helped into a dinosaur tail and tutu.
My happy little girl was giddy. Dinosaur Ballerina!
The birthday girl’s grandma handmade dinosaur tails for all the kids, and coordinating tutus for the girls.
The weight of the tail dragging behind them cause the kids, especially the littlest ones, to exaggerate their waddle as they walked.
Cuteness overload
The lawn covered with littles followed by their tails.
A back yard dinosaur dig
Dinosaur ballerinas discussing books and their favorite dinosaurs
Even the birthday girl’s daddy had a tail.
Happy birthday, Isabella. Here’s to many, many more.
Wouldn’t you like to be a dinosaur ballerina, too?
I don’t like peas. I would almost go so far as to say that I hate peas. Well, not really. I can appreciate them in theory, I know they’re healthy, I just really, really don’t want to eat them.
But…
As a mom, I don’t want to pass along my pea issues to my kiddo. How do I give her opportunities to make up her own mind about peas without inadvertently influencing or limiting her own ability to enjoy them? I want her to like them, but it’s difficult not to shudder in their presence.
Well, true to form, my kid finds a way to make being her mom easy. (Yes, I know the teenage years are coming, and no I’m not prepared.)
She is completely enamored with the little garden out back at our favorite coffee shop, C & P Coffee Company. She loves to inspect and name off the different plants: rosemary, oregano, lettuce, peppers, tomatoes, strawberries, and, yes, peas. She doesn’t just name them, she works her way through that tiny garden like a little rabbit, munching away on strawberries and lettuce, and, yes, peas. (she tried the rosemary and oregano, as well. Once.)
This little garden makes it easy for me to get excited and show some enthusiasm for the peas. I love the flowers,
and I just can’t get enough of those curly tendrils.
And as I’m ooh-ing and ah-ing over these beautiful plants, getting lost in the moment with my camera, my precious little girl reaches up and hands me a baby pea as though she were giving me a gift. I couldn’t turn it down, so I ate it. And it wasn’t that bad.
To laugh often and much; To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; To earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; To appreciate beauty, to find the best in others; To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded.
~Ralph Waldo Emerson
Ralph Waldo Emerson is one of my favorite thinkers, and that quote really spoke to me this morning.
I tend to be hard on myself – comparing myself to others, and the outward expressions of their success: prestigious job with matching paycheck, or even just the ability to pay the rent. I especially have to be careful about checking my envy of those who are so adept and prolific in outward expressions of creativity.
I think back on my life and want to change decisions made in the past, but I know those changes would sever my connection to those who love me for who I really am. Â I am so blessed to have finally found people who value integrity and not only accept, but expect, authenticity from me. It’s a new kind of challenge, after a lifetime of trying to force myself into a box I was never meant to fit.
There is another quote that is making its rounds of the internet this morning. It showed up just as I needed it:
‎”Developing self-esteem requires an act of revolution, or several mini-revolutions, in which we begin to separate from group thought and establish our own sense of authority.”
~Â Caroline Myss
It took me a long time to learn that decisions made to impress a specific group of people, such as a bag or shoes far out of my price range, or political party membership, is not a healthy way to build a relationship. Putting myself in debt for designer duds to impress someone moves me away from independence rather than towards it. I’m not acting on my own authority when I’m beholden to the opinions of others. When my self-esteem is healthy, and my relationships are healthy, then those relationships are secure, regardless of who designed my bag, or whether I voted the same way as the rest of my family. That is a freeing realization.
When I think of the effort it took to extract myself from group-think and learn to evaluate all the information available to me, rather than only considering that which reinforced the group’s position, I consider my daughter and her development.  How do I teach her that she does not have to feel guilty for thoroughly pondering information available to her, and coming to a different conclusion from me? How do I teach her that the value of a position lies not in how it compares to my own, but in the integrity with which it is contemplated, and her willingness to reconsider with new understanding when new information is made available? How do I teach her that everything must be questioned, including me? How do I help her  work around/through this stumbling block that consumed such a large percentage of my life? Do I help her? Or is that one of those things we need to work through on our own?
So much to ponder…. How do you define authentic success?
I’m just not at a point where I can talk about it all. It’s just so much…
So much what does this cancer diagnosis mean to the rest of my life? to what extent will I let it define me? what do I want to do when I grow up? will it have something to do with cancer? should I change my major? what is the meaning of life, the universe, and everything? does it even matter? where are my shoes? how will we pay rent? did I take my pills this morning, or was that yesterday? who am I? who are you? will Lizzie and Mr. Darcy ever work things out?
In spite of all of that, I still have this…
the meaning of life, the universe, and everything is such a small thing compared to the beauty of my little girl in a swing. Pondering can wait; it’s time to play.
Writing has been difficult lately. I feel like I’m chasing soap bubbles, and the moment I grasp a nugget, a train of thought, an approach, an angle, it disappears into nothingness before I can pin it to paper.
It’s so very much like my daughter chasing these bubbles around the park – yet so different.
First, I’m not having as much fun (I need to do something about that).
Second, my failure to grasp these bubbles, and manipulate them into a cohesive thesis, has consequenses.
Just a few more days, I can count it in hours now, till this semester is done. The last paper and final are friday; then I can exhale.
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