Thursday, August 8, 2013

Nolie, 7

Can you believe this kid is 7 already?

She and Addie made this "outfit" from scraps in my dress-up bin, in case you couldn't tell, and then took pictures of all the outfits and accessories they created and made a catalogue.

I'm part proud of this and part mortified.  You know, because I have at times been addicted to catalogues, and clearly that has translated a little.

Nolie:   I don't quite know what to say about her, because like always, and like with these birthday posts always, you'll just never get a full sense of the cosmic, maddening brilliance that is her, the tremendous, almost spooky sense of empathy she has, for instance, from a few paragraphs written off the cuff.

She is probably the most strong willed person I have ever met, and also one of the most gentle.

She is so much better, physically, than she was a year ago.  Her hair is full and she has grown almost an inch since April (E. measures them on birthdays and at the New Year, and for a long time, her marks were so close together as to suggest no difference, and the term "failure to thrive," usually applied to newborns, came to my mind often).  She has lost one tooth on her own, without having to have it pulled, and another is loose.  She loves soccer, movie nights, dancing, singing, playdates, cuddles, and reading.

She turns phrases like an adult, often to endearing or hilarious results.  But you laugh at your peril.  She requires above all to be taken seirously.

She refuses to learn how to ride her bike without her training wheels.  Both my kids have been slow on the uptake with the bikes.

She is still anxious and shy when meeting new people and in new situations, but it takes her five minutes to warm up and then she talks and talks and talks and makes best friends with everyone.

She still adores stuffed animals.  When given the choice, she will always buy the stuffed animal.

She is easily hurt.  Easily offended.  Easily embarrassed.  Still easily angered, though nowhere near as bad as last fall.

She is fiercely loyal.  When she wants to be.

We were rafting the Salmon River this summer, and she turned to our guide and told him he had longer armpit hair than her daddy.  She asks why I wear so much lipstick (I didn't think I did).  When I told her her words sometimes hurt my feelings, she immediately began telling me I "look younger than my years."  She is not afraid to call them like she sees them, and also totally happy to blow smoke when she thinks she should.

When one of us is gone, whether at work, or on a trip, or just running to the grocery store, she is just not right until that person is back.  I think she experiences our family as one unit, almost in a physical sense, and when one is gone, she finds it difficult to breathe or concentrate or be happy.  This deep connection with others, in my opinion, will be her greatest strength and her greatest burden.

I adore her and am inspired by her and am maddened on occasion by her.  I can't understand where she came from or who she will be.  She's just a gift of the most precious kind, and I feel so blessed to have her in my life.

No comments:

Post a Comment