Three Scenes With Simone

SCENE 1 My mom and I were hanging out. Actually, we don't really hang out. I was driving us somewhere and my 5-year-old was in the back seat. I told my mom I had to get some new yoga pants, as my other five pair just weren't looking so good anymore, and I needed my yoga pants.

"Ma! Mom!" cried Simone. "But you don't DO yoga. Why do you need yoga pants?"

“The point of wearing yoga pants is to make people think I’m doing yoga, when really I’m just being comfortable.”

I could see Simone in the rearview mirror. She looked at me. Blinked her big blue eyes. “Mom. That doesn’t make any sense.”

She really is a clever girl.

SCENE 2

“Mom. Ma! Mom. Come here! I need to talk to you.”

I can’t tell you how many conversations with Simone begin like this. When she needs to ‘talk to you’ she needs to do it IMMEDIATELY and it is EXTREMELY IMPORTANT. And it will take her five or so minutes to get to the point. It’s endearing and aggravating at the same time. Endearing most of the time, aggravating when she wants to talk to me about something and I have to go to the bathroom or go to work.

Here is a sample monologue. Please envision a 5-year-old girl with blond hair and blue, blue eyes saying this with a sort of 1930s movie star voice. We don’t know why she talks like this or says “sure” (rhymes with fur) like “shore” (two syllables). I think it’s a sign she’s going to be an artist of some sort.

SIMONE:

Mom. Ma! Mom. Come here! I need to talk to you. Okay. So. FIRST of all. First of all. Mom. Ma. Sit down. I need to talk to you. Right now! Now. Okay. Uhm. So. Okay. Ma. FIRST of all. Why don’t we ever go on PillowPets dot com when I telled you I want to go on Pillowpets dot com. Mom. Okay. I know. But you telled me. Okay. Shoor. You told me. Told. And SECOND of all. SECOND of all I want one of those things that helps you look at the stars. Yeah. A telescope. When we going to get one of THOSE? But Christmas is forever away. And mom. Ma. SECOND of all. Okay. THIRD of all. I’m thirsty. I want some juice. I don’t WANT milk. Not milk. NOOoooOO! I could eat some ice cream though.

SCENE THREE

On Saturday, Simone woke up at 5:30 AM. It was black out still. When she woke up we went to her window to look for the stars, but it was too cloudy. I noticed a patch of clear black sky just beyond her field of vision. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s go outside.”

“What? Now?”

“Yep. Now. Let’s just give it a try.”

So we walked out into the sleeping, dark morning in our bare feet and pajamas. The deck was cool and wet with dew. I pointed. “Look up!” I said.

“Where?” she said. “I don’t see anything. It’s too many clouds.”

I moved her head.

She gasped. She really did. “Mom!” she breathed. “I can see the stars! They were there all the time and we just weren’t looking in the right place!”

I have to admit I got a little teary eyed then. It made me think how many times in life are we looking for the stars but angry when we can’t see them. If we’d just look in a different direction, we’d see the stars have been there all along.

Not only is my daughter creative and smart and wonderful, she’s also very wise.

Happy Birthday, Simone.

5 years ago, I met Simone Nichole for the first time. I'd been carrying her for almost nine months and as you can see from the below picture, I was pretty much miserable. There's no 'pregnancy glow' here. This was sheer misery. I had gestational diabetes, threw up four to five times a day for the entire pregnancy, and had to keep going in for tests to monitor her heart beat.

So when I say I couldn't wait to meet her, I mean it. But it was more than just wanting the pregnancy to be done. When I was pregnant with my son Louis, we had two possible names chosen. Only two. "Louis" and "Simone". It's sort of like I knew somehow that I would have two kids...and who they would be. I knew their names, but beyond that, everything else would be a surprise.

We went in during a snow storm. Yes. In April. And today it's snowing too. Everything was covered with white. It was that heavy kind of snow. And then the next day (or was it two?) when they sent me home with little wee Simone, all the snow had melted. Sun was shining. Tulips and crocuses had sprouted. In a real and very cheesy way, I feel a like that about Simone in my life. I had Louis and that was great, but something was cold and frozen and missing. What was missing was my daughter. Bringing her home with me was like bringing home fresh flowers and sunshine. Yes, I realize it's corny, but that doesn't make it any less true.

Not to be all unicorns and rainbows...I wanted a daughter but was also terrified. A mother/daughter relationship is so complicated. And I felt that I'd given all my love to my son. How could I love another needy baby? How would I show Simone how to be a strong, loving, creative girl and eventually woman. If a daughter learns from her mother's examples, what kind of life would I set her up for?

Simone and I had to get to know each other. I think the idea that you instantly love your child is a fallacy. You do love them, but you have to fall in love with them through time and experiences. When she was born, I loved that she was with me and that she filled an empty space. Now, I love who she is. I don't know how much is by my example, or the combination of the the people in her life, or just who she is...but Simone at five is a wonderful human being.

She's strong, opinionated, empathetic. She's funny, curious, creative. She has no problem saying "Whoah. Look at this heart I just drew. I think I have a lot of talent." She'll wear a pretty dress and then run outside to get dirty. She takes incredible pictures. But even that doesn't explain who she is. Look into her deep blue eyes, and there's a deep spirit there. In fact, I think I learn more from watching her than she does from watching me.

Simone, my love, my sweet girl, you know I'm not religious necessarily, but if anything could make me believe that there is goodness and beauty in this world...it's you.

Happy 5th birthday.