She sat at the dinner table and said, in all confidence, “Daddy. When I snap my fingers, it means you need to bring me more water.” This one sentence sums up my daughter in so many ways. First, she’s six. She still calls her dad “Daddy.” Second, she’s clever. In her mind she’s made up a new rule and calmly states it as fact. Third, she’s taken on the persona of Queen Victoria a bit too literally.
After a brief moment of surprise (awe?), we gently laughed and said, “Yeah, nope. That’s not how we do things in this family.” But “A” for effort?
This girl, this six-year-old, is, in all honesty, the most emotional, beautiful and frustrating thing in my life right now. She’s up, down, all around and doing cartwheels and sword fights all the while. She can’t stand to be corrected, and yet is eager to learn. She hates to be hugged but longs for affection. She rolls her eyes and is disrespectful yet starts weeping at the first sign of discipline. She speaks with the air of a queen but her words are that of a child. She’s a conundrum to me, and once she finally falls asleep, I leave her room an emotional, exhausted mess.
People say girls are full of drama. I’d like to agree but can’t quite. True drama is intentional, a choice to behave a certain way to elicit certain results. While Victoria certainly knows her choices have consequences, I’m fairly confident that most often, she’s not being dramatic, she’s just being SIX. And this is where my difficulty lies.
She can be so all over the place that it makes me want to scream. It’s so hard to handle emotional whirlwinds of other people when at times I’m an emotional whirlwind myself! When I collect her from school I never know if she’ll approach me with a smile or a stuck-out tongue and rolling eyes, therefore subjecting me to make reprimand be the first of our conversation together.
It’s the hardest thing for me to be the “good mom” who goes through the checklist of why she might be acting that way (is she hungry? Did she quarrel with a friend? Did she perform badly on a test? Etc). Rather, I jump right in and address the behavior, not the reason, and in the end we both feel miserable.
My most ardent prayer is that God will show me the way to be the mother she needs. Because, in the brief moments of peace and laughter, I can see that this age is truly precious and one of the most beautiful things I’ll ever see. Victoria is in a delicate balance of willful confidence and still desperately needing her mama. She’s developing a strong personality and I pray that I can encourage and refine it, not thwart or deflate it. Most of all, I want her to know that I love her, and that God loves her.
There’s a beautiful song called Ribbons Undone by Tori Amos (click to listen!). It’s been one of my all-time favorite songs, and now that I have a little girl of my own, it means that much more to me. Victoria is my own flash of lightning, my thoroughbred, my little girl running with ribbons undone. And, as she would add, my own little queen.
She’s a girl
rising from a shell
running to Spring
It is her time it is her time
Watch her run with Ribbons undone
she’s a rose in a Lily’s cloak
she can hide her charms
Is it her right there will be time
to chase the sun with Ribbons undone
she runs like a fire does
just picking up daises
Comes in for a landing
a pure flash of lightening
Past alice blue blossoms
you follow her laughter
And then she’ll surprise you
arms filled with lavender
Yes, my little pony is growing up fast
she corrects me and says
“you mean a thoroughbred”
A look in her eye says the Battle’s beginning
From school she comes home and cries
I don’t want to grow up Mom at least not tonight
you’re a girl
Rising from a shell
Running through Spring
with Summer’s hand in reach now
It is your time It is your time
so just run with Ribbons undone
It is your time yes my angel
It is your time
so just run with Ribbons undone
run run darlin’