Lately, I have really, truly been enjoying time with Ella. I should mention that I'm currently coming off the heels of bedtime, so my zest for "everything Ella" has left me briefly, but I'm hoping that it will return as I write this here blog.
It's not that in the past I didn't enjoy Ella, it was just that spending time with her was a little, shall I say, erratic. For one, I was pregnant, and hormonal, and second, she was 2 1/2, and I suspect, also hormonal. I knew this, because every time I wanted to throw myself on the floor screaming and crying (which was every few minutes), she also appeared to have the same compulsion. This made it very difficult for us to spend time any extended time together, as one of us always seemed to be just about to lose our minds and tear our hair out. Fortunately, one of us actually is an adult and knows how to pull it together when it's time to be a parent. His name is Anthony. I think he started digging a tunnel in the basement this past summer with a screwdriver though. Nothing too obvious, but by the time the girls are 13 and 16, he should be able to at least get to the liquor store and back without anyone noticing. I think he's collecting our ripped out hair to make a nest in there too. Poor bird. Thankfully, he's literally the most optimistic person I've ever met.
So speaking of optimistic stuff, Ella has been pretty darn delightful lately with her brilliant three year old brain. One of my favorite times of the day is our drive to work in the morning. It's still dark out, and she's so alert and observant, it makes me wonder if she's sipping earl grey and having tea parties in the wee hours with her fairies. Sometimes as we drive up the road she'll shout out things like "look at that whale shark in the sky!", and don't you know, the sky looks just like the aquarium, and the cloud does indeed look like a giant whale shark.
When I tossed an orange peel out the window the other day, she asked me why. I told her that the orange peel would turn back into dirt she said "yes, and then it will turn back into food for us". This caught me slightly off guard, as I've NEVER thought to teach my three year old the basics of composting.
"Honey, did they teach you this at the school we are paying our income to?"
Ella - "No, it just does, it just turns into dirt and then food to eat".
I should just give her a bunch of text books to take to bed and call it a day.
I've learned that Cookie Monster lives in the woods next to our neighborhood, and that Tinkerbell goes to school in the tree right off of Whitlock Avenue. She saw Jesus in the cemetery, which I think is just fantastic. I'm pretty sure it was just a little statue of a saint, but whatever she saw, it's not my place to judge.
So the other morning, we had quite the three minutes of conversation. If our car was a juicer, and our dialogue fruit, we could have made some powerful jamba juice rolling on those four tires. As we approached the stop sign Ella observed that it was raining, and commented that she was glad, because "if it didn't rain, then all the grass and trees would be dead". Then she got quiet and thoughtful, and asked "mommy, what's dead?".
This is one of the many conversations that I've known would come up, but that I haven't prepared for what so ever. It's weird, because in the past, whenever I've said the word "dead" around her by accident, I've felt a zing of anxiety flash through my body. Every muscle would flex, and I would brace for the inevitable question; "what's dead mommy?". But every time the word slipped from my lips, it was as if I said nothing. Despite all my flexing and twitching, she would continue to play, which was so confusing to me, because isn't that kind of a, I don't know, a BIG WORD? Of course, it didn't occur to me that when you have no prior knowledge or association with a word, there is no reason for it to seem big or small. I could have said, "oh bummer, this plant is about to ice cream" and I would have gotten more of a response.
But, I forgot all of my speech pathology knowledge, and instead started acting crazy. I would purposely find things that were dead, and say "look at this leaf, sooo sad how DEAD it is", or awww, poor lady bug, can't fly anymore being all DEAD." She was oblivious. It was like being 12 and lighting a firework in my hand, holding it out to a group of friends saying "who thinks it's gonna blow up in my face? anyone anyone??" Uh yeah...silly.
So, "what's dead mommy?" For all my jumping around with dead roaches and plants, I still had no prepared answer, so this was our conversation:
Me: "well......dead is when things don't need water or food or air anymore, and they can go live with God. Then he takes care of them".
Ella: "Where is God"
Me: "I don't know, but I think he's right up there in the sky somewhere"
Ella "Why can't I see him?"
Me: "Well, we aren't supposed to see him yet, we are just supposed to kind of hear Him"
Ella: Quietly thinking..."When I get married I want to wear a cape"
Me: Okay, that sounds fine.
Whooo, made it through the first of many death talks unscathed. Still, we had not left the neighborhood, and already, we had conversed about weather, death and marriage. Could I really let her wear a cape on her wedding day? Her dad would be so proud.
We turned out of the neighborhood onto Whitlock Avenue, and drove about five seconds down the road before venturing into our next philosophical discussion.
Ella: Do caterpillars turn into butterflies?
Me: Yes
Ella: Why?
This is a great question, and again, one I should have been prepared to answer, what with it being spring and being an EDUCATOR....but alas, I was not. Why do caterpillars turn into butterflies? Well, if I had to guess, based on my observations, I would say it's because they are tired of three year olds pinching them so hard that they inadvertently poop on everyone and everything and die from embarrassment and/or internal bleeding. However, since it was only 6 am, and I felt like her three year old brain might not grasp my sarcasm, I opted for a gentler explanation.
Me - "Why do they turn into butterflies? Well, I guess because they want to become more beautiful."
Ella - "Why do they want to become more beautiful?"
Me - "Well, I think we are all supposed to become more beautiful."
Ella - Quietly thinking..."Ms. Charlotte says I'm beautiful."
Me - "You are beautiful because you have a beautiful brain.
Ella - "Why do I have a brain"
Me - "Because you do. Let's listen to NPR".
When I got in my car to drive away from daycare, I did one of my other favorite morning rituals. I spied on her through the glass door. She was eating cheerios and pretending to be a ballerina. Her dance moves were bordering on martial arts, and it was perfect. It was true that she looked pretty hopping and flailing around in her pink flowered dress. But the way she was all alone in that moment, eyes closed, spinning with joy and pure spirit. THAT was beautiful. She was becoming something right there.
The three minutes spent with my three year old had set me up for a pretty thought-filled day. Maybe there was a lot of truth to that little bit of dialogue. For instance, maybe if God is right up there in the sky, and Jesus is right over there in the cemetery, then the word "dead" isn't "DEAD", it's just dead.
If we can remember that much, then maybe it would be easier to make it our life's work to be more like a caterpillar, to become, rather than to just be. Maybe then we wouldn't be so focused on, and so afraid of death. Perhaps if we spent more time becoming more intentional, becoming more giving, becoming more loving, becoming more beautiful, we would be focusing up and out, rather than down and in. I'm willing to bet if we take our cue from three year olds, and we start looking up and out, we'll start seeing whale sharks, Cheshire Cat moons, Tinkerbell Fairies, and maybe, just maybe we'll see who we are meant to become. We will see that this is not the end.
So often, I find myself nestling into my cozy chrysalis of a routine, day after day. I am being Liz, and I am being comfortable, but am I becoming anything? Sure, life is changing me, but is change enough? We can't go through life and not be changed.
The real question is, are we becoming more, or are we just becoming slightly different versions of ourselves? When I emerge, will I be the same old moth with a few flecks of color, or will I have become something really worth looking at, something worth talking about, something worth learning from? What the caterpillar conversation reminded me of is that it's not about the comfort, it's about the journey, the evolution, and the legacy that I will leave behind for my family. So I am once again reminded to look up, and ask God's will for my life, so that I may become the "kind of beautiful" that God intended for my life.
Thank you Ella for teaching me about caterpillars, butterflies God and death. Everyday you become a bigger blessing. I didn't even know it was possible.
