She loves me, she loves me not

After the rain of the last few days, mother nature smiled on us and brought lots of sunshine. The ground here stays wet for days after a good soaking which interferes with Ellie's sand-box time, so today was a welcome return to the park and her "shubel and butek" (shovel and bucket). So, after her nap, we headed to our favorite park armed with all her gear. Thing is, she never plays with her own stuff -- I guess the grass is greener in the toddler yard, too. Anyway, they all seem to do it and share pretty well so no big deal. I love that she shares easily and isn't territorial about her things. She doesn't have to do that at home being an only child, and that has been one of my concerns. I'd like to think her understanding of generosity is due to her relationship with her cousins Caden and Quinn, but truth be known, they always give her whatever she wants...so they're no help :) . I'm proud of her for having a sharing spirit and for being so open to new people and situations.

Here's the rub -- She doesn't need me. I don't mean this literally, as in the life-sustaining context. I mean that socially, she couldn't care less if I am there or not. She hits the ground running wherever we go and doesn't look back. Her KinderMusik teacher told me that it's a good thing, that it means she feels secure and confident that I am always going to be here and that she can move away and come back with no fear. I hear her say that, but my heart breaks anyway. It's not Ellie's fear, it's mine. Fear that she really doesn't need me. Fear that she would or could wander off toward the wrong person at the wrong time. Fear that I'm lacking some crucial "bondability" because I'm not fortunate enough to share her DNA. And, worst of all, fear that one day she will be easily able to push past me toward someone or something else that catches her interest and I will be a fleeting thought.

To a woman at the playground, she said "Hi!", as if they had been expecting her. The woman laughed and said "hi" back, then looked at me and said "What a friendly child!" As she said this, my daughter proceeded to begin rooting through the woman's bag (in her defense, there was a container of bubbles visible). I was mortified and apologized profusely. Of course, the lady just laughed and said how wonderful it must be to have such an outgoing child...that her own son stood by her side at the playground for 6 years and cried because he just wouldn't venture out on his own. She said "I always felt so bad, like he was too dependent on me. It drove me nuts." Hmm. So it is with mothers -- guilt, no matter what. Well, that's good. I've always felt guilty about everything anyway, so it's good to know that now it has an assigned seat in my life.

Ellie did eventually find her way back to me, not that I was too far. I try to stay just far enough away that she doesn't have to say "go away mommy" (and she does), but close enough to make sure she knows I'm there if she needs me or wants to play. There is a fine line between sitting in your car talking on the phone and getting your butt stuck in the twisty slide.

She may not be looking for me, but I'll always be looking for her.

**Ellie funny of the day: We were playing in her room and she was lying across my lap with her arms wrapped around my neck when I detected an unpleasant odor.

Me: "Ellie did you poop?"

Ellie: "No Mommy.Not yet."

:)