normal KID stuff

So here's a post where I simply rattle off things that might be meaningless, except they're not, because they're about my kid, and she is totally freakin' awesome. With sprinkles on top.

Hailey really has flourished in preschool this year. She's made friends, learned to be a bit more independent, and started noticing how she is similar and different from her peers...with great encouragement from me to appreciate those differences. Like how she likes to wear her sneakers with dresses. And how she likes to wear sunglasses on the playground. And how she doesn't always like to play with the same kids every day. And how she likes her hair long, even though her friends get theirs cut.

Anyway, as much as I appreciate those differences and many others, I've wished nothing more than for Hailey to feel like a normal kid a lot of days. Her sensitivity and perceptiveness get in the way a lot. And, though those attributes are very valuable and make her incredible to me, they tend to frustrate her.

So, these things seem small, but I can see the eyes of some normalcy for her in that way peeking through lately, and it has just melted my heart. Literally. I actually got teary the other day while waiting in line at the pharmacy because she was weaving in and out of the roping for the line with a smile on her face. We were the only ones there, so she wasn't being an obnoxious kid who can't keep out of people's way. No. She was being a normal kid, who isn't bothered by the shiny floor or by being two feet away from her mom in a busy supermarket. And she was giggling. And I was thinking, I should really stop her, this isn't behavior to be encouraged. And I was thinking, who is this kid? But I was really glad for her. Like so glad it made me cry.

And then there was the entire hour she played by herself the other day. With no asking for help. No difficulty finding things to do. And yes, this is new for her. She's always needed suggestion, or someone watching over her. But in recent months, she's been exploring the world of being Hailey, and it's just great to watch. It seems there are pockets of time when she just glows with self-confidence in a way she never has before. Something in her heart has shown her she can face things differently.

Simple things, but big things for her. We've been working on talking about our emotions a lot more as a way to help her identify when she's feeling overwhelmed, and it has been infinitely helpful, I believe. She totally gets it, and loves knowing how to put words to things so that we can work through them together...and better yet, she is identifying how to work through them on her own. We've always talked about things, but we've just encouraged her to be more open and matter-of-fact about her feelings lately. Like she tells me she's feeling flustered before she goes over the edge and has a melt-down, which she's learning is so much happier for her heart. So, finding something to do, or walking on a shiny floor, isn't quite as daunting a task, even if it's huge...she is working through it...and that is making her feel big.

(And I am in love with the dot, dot, dot, no? Best little grammatical trick ever. I don't know a run-on sentence. I use the dot, dot, dot, thank you. And watch out below...I see some commas acomin'.)

And there have been mornings where I emerge from the bathroom after getting dressed, and I find her, completely changed from jammies to clothes, pj's in the laundry, bed made, hair ties selected, and little pieces of evidence that she's been busy, like a pen and paper with her name written on them, or a stool at the bottom of her closet with a shirt she decided not to wear thrown across it, or a baby doll tucked nicely in a cradle for resting while she's at school. And this morning, the morning of picture day, she spent her time while I was showering, practicing her squinty-eyed half-open smile in the mirror. It's just this new independence. This new confidence.

We still have our days. There are still obstacles that overwhelm her, and moments in life when she struggles to breathe. Still moments when the sun is too bright, the noises too loud, the tags too itchy, the people too many. She still needs her sleep to handle the weight of the world she carries. She still needs her hand held. She still needs to be still.

But she's learning to balance it all, and to be in control a bit. And I am in awe, and so happy for her.