5.5.09

All about you, Baby

Leila is one of the smartest kids I've ever met. She's overly cautious and often lingers at the back of a big crowd. She hates having sticky or dirty hands, develops fears easily, never forgets things, and loves reading. Her imagination is constantly going, and when walking around, she usually has one or both hands clenched, because she's holding her "little girl's" hand. She buckles her little girl into her car seat, highchair, tucks her in bed.

She panics easily and wants to know what we're going to do each day the night before. She doesn't deal well with unexpected change or surprise visitors that she doesn't know. If you try to correct her pronunciation or encourage her to do things she finds hard (like jumping) she just won't. You can't push Leila, it makes her move backwards. I constantly tell her to do things when she's ready, to tell a story when she feels comfortable, to talk when she wants to. She asks me to let people know she's shy and that she'll talk a lot, but not before she feels comfortable.

And yet, she never stops talking. She loves grass and pulling weeds and picking blueberries. She adores her sister, talks her grandmother's ear off, prefers to get washed by the cloth that is a tiger because that's when I pretend the tiger is eating her belly and hands.

I try to encourage her to be a little more independent, to take three more bites off her spoon before I help her, to go into the reading group by herself, to go down the slide. But I want her to know I'm here, I'm always here, and if it isn't until next summer that we conquer slides, that's ok too.

I tell people she's shy at first and my mother balked, Leila? she said, shy?? Because that's so not who she is around people she knows and loves. She just needs more time than other kids to get used to a new routine.

As she was in her reading group at the library today, I absently picked up a book, The Hidden Gifts of the Introverted Child by Marti Olsen Laney and flipped through the pages. It's so her, to a tea. I hate to use labels on my kids, because they are, quite simply and wonderfully, themselves. No more or less quirky than any adult. Of course, I've worried about them being round pegs squeezed into square holes, because that's how our school system (and society?) works; there isn't little to no room for difference in learning style or ability (I think these are common concerns for parents). I started reading the book this afternoon when the girls went down for their nap and I think it will be helpful. Because trying to find the balance between pushing and sheltering can be hard.

I have a friend with two young kids, and while they all played well together, I couldn't help but notice how Leila would sit and watch while they bounced on the couch or ran to their rooms, just waiting for them to come back to the game of dolls or cars or whatever. And I wondered if it was the difference of parenting styles, because I hover and am, admittedly, quite overprotective. I thought I should let Leila have a longer leash, so she wouldn't be so quick to run to me at the slightest bump.

Someone asked me a couple of weeks ago if we had ever considered having Leila tested for being a gifted child. I smiled and said she's really quite bright. There's no doubt in my mind that Leila's smarter than the average bear, but I think testing a child as young as her is a waste of time. Steve and I know how smart she is and we nurture that, why put the pressure of the label "gifted" on her?

I'm not really sure where I'm going with this, other than the fact that I've been writing so much about Alena's developments lately (crawling! teething! stubbornness!) and not about Leila's.

I see now, as we head into our third year together, my third year as a mom, that the complexities will never end. Leila has always been this ray of light in my life, from the moment I first realized her heart was beating inside of me. She came, completely unexpected, into my life, an angel, I have no doubt. The way the light dances in her eyes as she smiles up at me, or inches closer with a whispered I love you. She's my heart, my firstborn. She strolled into our bedroom this morning and watched us in bed. Steve asked her if she wanted to come cuddle and she said, I'm going to go over to Mommy's side. So I lifted her in beside me and wrapped my arms around her. I opened my eyes a few minutes later and looked directly into her somber, big blue eyes and she said Did you have a good sleep?

And that's Leila. The best little kid I've ever met.

wunderwuman at 12:45 p.m.

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