When I found out that I was expecting a girl everyone I spoke to said the same thing.
"Girls are so much easier than boys.."
James was a pretty easy going toddler at the time so I figured I was definitely onto a winner. All those people though, they were either messing with me or they were just plain wrong.
Girls are a lot harder!
From the moment Emilie came into this world on a hot July night in our living room, she has kept me on my toes. She spent the first sixteen months literally screaming. She refused to leave my side until she was two and a half. She has a shriek that can break glass and thinks nothing of throwing herself onto the floor in a tantrum. I swear she could make an amazing career on the stage in a dramatic west end show.
She is the most girly tomboy I have ever met. She loves her dresses, shoes and playing with my make-up. She carries her babies around and feeds them whilst sitting with me so we can "have a chat." In the next breath she is off to help her Dad in the shed, coming back into the house later covered in dirt but happy.
Raising Emilie has taught me that each child is different. Each child needs to be shown love in a different way, disciplined in a different way & taught in a different way.
Emilie is a little whirlwind. A big personality for such a little girl. She literally throws herself head first into everything, and at three years old she doesn't have the time to think about the consequences. As hard as some days can be, I hope she never loses those traits. There is nothing I admire more than a strong, confident woman. For every tantrum, shriek and "I want to do it this way," She loves fiercely, has the biggest laugh and is so compassionate for someone so young.
The past few months have been particularly tough. She's had so many changes all the whilst going through the threenager stage and I constantly have to remind myself that maybe her acting out is just her tiny self trying to cope with everything. Earlier this week I was up and about before the kids woke up. I heard little footsteps and then a bedroom door opening and then more footsteps coming down the stairs. A disheveled Emilie walks into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes that were barely open, her hair curly from where she had been sleeping, 'Mummy I have a sore throat,' I picked her up, carried her into the living room and sat with her on my lap for a few minutes, her hands stayed around my neck, whilst she woke up properly. It's moments like these where I remember that she is still so little. It's easy to forget sometimes, whilst I'm rushing from one job to the next, hurrying the kids along, asking them to get dressed or tidy their bedrooms.
One day she will have the emotional maturity to not throw herself on the floor when someone says no to her but until then, it's my job to guide her and occasionally rein those tornado like qualities in. She's also teaching me at the same time. She's reminding me to slow down. To stop and embrace those hands around my neck, the belly laughs and the "Mummy can you read this book to me" moments.
Some days parenting such a strong willed little girl can be so hard but loving her? Well thats easy...
