Friday, February 3, 2017Rolled Up Independence
I spend a lot of time being grateful for Alexis' independence. For example, the kid handles mornings very well all by herself, doing things like packing her own lunch most days. The whole thing makes me all of the happy.
But now Mila is doing what she can to one-up her sister.
I shouldn't be surprised. One of the side effects of the "we have to be opposites" thing they have going on is that on the rare occasions when Mila decides to copy Alexis, she does it in an extreme way. I don't know if she's just crazy competitive or if she's just a quick learner, but if Mila decides to be like Alexis, she does it ALL the way.
Mila packs her lunch now.
Let me just remind you that she's two years old. TWO. And she packs her own lunch.
She's done it every day for the past few weeks. As soon as we get home, she takes off for the pantry and starts grabbing food. There have been a few days when she has managed to grab some things out of the fridge as well, so she ended up with a lunch bag filled with peaches, yogurt, and granola bars. Which, that's pretty much what any adult would pack for her, so VICTORY!
The past couple of days, though, she has skipped the fridge.
You guys, I bought Fruit Roll-Ups as a special treat and Mila is packing the entire box of them in her lunch every day.
We have managed to supplement the Fruit Roll-Up diet every day, except today Mila caught me trying to give her other food and HOOBOY. She was not happy. Not happy at all. I thought I would cut her back to one Fruit Roll-Up and then toss in some sort of healthy stuff but nope. Mila wanted Fruit Roll-Ups. All of the Fruit Roll-Ups. Nothing but Fruit Roll-Ups.
So if you happened to see Mila and I walking through the daycare parking lot with her screaming the words "NOT NICE! MOMMY BAD! MOMMY GO TO TIME OUT!" this morning, now you know why. It was because I'm mean.
Paths
There isn't a specific moment when the fog cleared, but there was a moment when I could see clearly.
It was math class. I sat tucked in the back corner, right where I have always and will always belong. My dull pencil slid over the lines in my notebook. Outside, the sun was hiding behind the clouds, but the flowers were beginning to brighten the day in its place.
She sat to my left. Her perfectly highlighted hair fell to her shoulders. Her bright floral skirt fought with the flowers outside for the most attention. Her posture was enviable, but then again so was everything about her. Her clothes were expensive. She drove a brand new car. If she slipped, her parents would catch her and prop her back up on her shelf.
They had done so often.
I had never focused on what was so clear in that moment before, but there it was. The differences between her and I were stark. My tattered jeans and oversized sweatshirt told a story. The haircut I had given myself served its purpose, as did the old green Mercury I drove around. She and I were on very different paths and had been since the day we were born.
Our paths never really intersected. We ran parallel from time-to-time, but even those parallel paths were unique. Her college years were not unlike something you would see in a movie. The photos she posts now show years filled with careless joy. Challenges arose, for sure, but they were of a different breed.
We stayed in touch. A little bit, anyway. We stayed in touch in that non-personal, non-committal, I-don't-really-care-about-you sort of way that the internet makes possible. She's there. I see the photos of her kids. Sometimes I see her words about her frustrations with the little things in life.
Her frustrations now are about how annoying it is that others don't see the world the way she does. She's gone full #AllLivesMatter except THOSE lives don't matter and blah, blah, blah. Her life is hard right now because other people seem to be screaming about the way things are playing out and she's very happy with how they're playing out.
Keep the immigrants out. They're dirty, anyway.
Build that wall. The three Mexicans that have made their way to North Dakota sure are a threat.
It's a lot.
And it's just enough. It's just enough to take me back to that day when I sat in the back of math class and realized that she was living the privileged life that I would never lead. It's just enough to make me extremely grateful that while she was dealing with a list of challenges, I was dealing with different ones. I was dealing with the challenges that made me see the world in a way that lets me be confident when I say she's wrong.
Diversity makes this world better. Differences are worth celebrating. Together we're better. I don't just believe it, I know it.
And I'm glad life handed me a path that lets me see that.
