My children do not look like me, I think.
Shane looks exactly like his father, but his head....oh my his head. It is huge. I cannot get over it.
Emma looks like her daddy too. She has blonde hair from me, and blue eyes from my birth mother. But aside from that...nope.
If you talk to my children, or spend any time with them at ALL. THAT is when you see me. Their humor, their strength...their love of the gays..... ALL me.
There is a moment in every parents career as a parent, that fills them with insane pride. Better then any drug, is the pride that you get when your child is doing......something.
For Shane it is when he is on stage. I scream his name, my heart is full and I am amazed at his ability up there. INSANELY amazed at his skills. The first time I saw him in a play I was in awe of the feelings that coursed through my body. The chills his acting made pop out on my skin.
For Emma it has always been her brain, She is quite simply, a genius. She can outwit most adults, and she enjoys a good well thought out argument.
Yesterday we were lounging around at home and Emma was practicing her cups. If you have seen the movie pitch perfect then you know the song and the 'cup' playing that I speak of.
She was playing the cups and I was singing, trying to memorize the words to the song.
I kept getting them wrong and I asked her "Why don't YOU sing it."
Her eyes widened. "NO!"
"Why not?"
"I cannot sing! No mom I cannot. YOU do it."
"waitaminute. I can sing, and your brother can sing....so, by process of DNA I think you should be able to too."
She shook her head vehemently and her cheeks pinkened.
Emma has not mastered the art of never being embarrased, like her brother and I have.
It's sweet.
"Emma Elizabeth."
"Whaaaaat?"
"Just try. I won't look at you."
Her shoulder sagged, I turned my head and she started playing the cups.
At first she sang fast.
"Emma."
"What mooooooooom."
"Mean it."
*sigh*
And she did. She sang and played the cups while my head was turned to the wall.
I hushed my breathing so that I could hear her better.
Goosebumps ran along my skin. And tears popped into my eyes
Emma did not simply sing. She sang beautifully.
When she was done she stood there, a look of trepidation on her face. Tears ran out of my non-bell palsy eyeball.
"Why are you crying?!" she exclaimed
"Because you can sing! And I did not even know how beautifully."
I cried because I just saw, in my teeny tiny daughter, a piece of myself.
An important part of ME.
Something that has become imbedded inside of my soul.
I sing. ALL of the time, and I ALWAYS have.
I sang to myself when I was small, to quiet the screams of parents who fought.
I sung quietly to my 17 year old pregnant belly, that housed my precious sunshine.
I sang when he was small to get him to sleep.
I sing when my heart is broken and I need to coat it happiness and light to make everything better.
I sing when I am happy.
I sing when I do not even know that I am doing it at all.
And I hope, that music will strengthen her heart, give birth to dreams and live inside of her soul JUST as deeply as it does me.
