The Agony and The Ecstasy

My Green Eyed girl is celebrating her 13th birthday today. My second daughter, my shoe girl, sassy child, ray of sunshine, lives with zest and passion. She has been known to hug a friend or family member with so much zeal that we wince. Restraint and passivity do not run strongly in this child. Empathy and enthusiasm do. Instead of sitting here searching for the appropriate adjectives to describe my darling daughter let me share two stories with you. And as she is reading Irving Stone's The Agony and The Ecstasy for her 7th grade project on Michelangelo, I thought it was an apt description of what it is like to live with Eleanor.

The Agony
My two eldest daughters had been fighting as only two teenage girls can fight. A name calling, hair pulling, screaming, object throwing, door slamming cat fight. A humdinger. As usually happens at the end, both of them came running to me in tears pointing her respective finger at the other while yelling accusations. I am expected to act as judge and jury but refuse until both parties are calm and can be spoken to separately. (You'd think that would figure out that the easier path is to solve it themselves. They both always get extra chores for the violence and swearing.) Anyway, this particular time I put my finger to my lips and asked them both for silence. They both continued to yell and froth at the mouth. I tried again, adding a warning this time. My eldest daughter saw the look in my eye, stopped talking and stalked off to her room to sulk. Not my second daughter. No. She crossed her arms, cocked one hip forward, looked me in the eye and said, "Make me!"

The Ecstasy
Yesterday I threw a temper tantrum. Yes, I do occasionally snap under the strain of raising my wonderful children. Anyway, I kicked a door. Hard. So hard that tears came to my eyes and I was heard, although I will deny it to my dying day, to yelp a cuss word. Fury was quickly replaced with pain. My daughter made me sit down on the step. "Does it hurt, Mom?" I nodded emphatically. "Mom, here take off your shoe and sock. I want to see if it is broken. Yes, I know how to do that. Does this hurt? How about when I push here? When I bend it like.....oh, that hurts? No, I don't think you have broken it but it is going to be sore for awhile." Then she gave me a huge hug and a kiss. "I love you, Mom."

Eleanor does not do anything by half measures. She lives life large, as the saying goes. Her siblings and I are truly blessed to live with her passion.

Happy Birthday Baby Girl. I love you too.