There are a lot of things we've missed in Angie's life. A lot of firsts. I'm a big fan of celebrations, occasions, dressing up, anything special; so firsts are kind of a big deal to me.
We'll never get to see little baby Angie experiencing all those firsts. Until this moment, I'm not sure I've ever even pictured her as an infant. Man, I bet she was cuuuuute! We missed her take her first steps toddling around barefoot in the Bolivian sand. No one will ever know what her first word was. We can't even be sure which language it was in, Quechua or Spanish. And maybe most regrettably, we weren't there to witness her first little sin. Not a moment you other parents probably put in the scrapbook, but one that could have saved us a lot of heartache, if we'd been there to correct her gently and train her up with consistency.
But God has been more than fair to us. Even though we came into her life seven years in progress, we've never missed a birthday. God so generously put all three of us in the same place for her very first Christmas celebration, her third day at the orphanage Talita Cumi. I glowed at her first ballet recital, cheered at her first basketball game, and relished her first tennis match. I took pictures of her, and Ruby's, first sight of those much anticipated white flakes falling from the sky we take for granted, snow. And it was my ears that captured her first sentence in English.
I have nothing to complain about, we couldn't have asked for more firsts as late in the game as we came in. But now I see, as we approach the end of our first year in the States, that the frequency of those novel moments is dwindling. I'm charging up the camera for Halloween and Thanksgiving, as I'm actively pursuing more squeals of surprise and delight.
You've probably noticed I'm head over heels in love with autumn! But Angie can only press so many leaves with me before that gets old. So, yesterday I created a first. I remember her saying once, probably after seeing it in a movie, that she wanted to jump in a pile of leaves. When she got home from school, I was raking our front yard into a mini mountain. However, it turns out 11 is too old (or cool) to jump in leaf piles. Well, it's a good thing Ruby is not 11 yet!
We broke the ice by tossing Ruby's ball in and laughing--with her, not at her, of course-- as she rooted around for it blindly.
But after a few minutes of that we were both submerged. And after a few more minutes I was wondering why I don't create play for us more often. It takes intentionality to put down what's easy and invent fun, it takes humility to keep trying when she rejects my attempts, and it takes some sacrifice to be buried in a pile of filthy leaves and let your child throw the dog's ball at you. But, really what do I have going that's more important than bonding with my tweenager?
Our hour of carefree romping, didn't solve all our problems, we still had a doozy of a fight this morning, but it gave us a little firmer foundation to recover to. Thank you to you moms who always inspire me with your ingenious ideas. And to you tired moms, like me, the squeals of pure joy are worth a little effort. Someone please remind me of that next week when I forget...
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