It's the little things

Yesterday was....hard. And it was also huge. For house Chaos, anyway.

Iris cried.

Now, I have friends whose children came home and they've been having huge meltdowns virtually every day since. Iris is silently sad. She's flop-on-the-couch-and-stare-at-the-wall sad. She's make-no-eye-contact-first-thing-in-the-morning-because-I-woke-up-in-stinkin'-America-again sad. She's reject-all-motherly-advances-as-evil sad. She's demand-all-food-is-pizza-even-though-I-didn't-want-to-try-pizza sad. She's rip-out-any-hairdo-mom-puts-in sad. And even when you try to be the bigger person and remember you are dealing with a child embroiled in rejection, it still hurts a little ton when nothing you do (including cooking Ethiopian foods) is remotely acceptable outside the confines of serving pizza and buying new shoes that are too small but the right color.

So excuse me while I have a moment.

My child CRIED because her feelings were hurt which means she might think her feelings matter or that someone might care enough to hold her and give ear to her pain.

Even if it is about an orange marker.

I'm sure I'll look back at this someday and laugh at myself. I told Brent last night that I hope this isn't the dam that broke and she has fits over everything now. But so far, so good.

And second:
She let me braid her hair.

ALMOST like I'm a mom.

And even though it was after 9pm, we dazzled her up with "a circle, inside and circle, inside a circle and a hair in the middle." Which I translated into a dutch spiral that is less than perfect, but our version of baby's first smile.

And it's still in.