All the beautiful children.

Isn’t she lovely                                                     Isn’t she wonderful                                          Isn’t she precious ~ Stevie Wonder

Today I’m waxing poetic about children in general and about grandchildren in particular.  In this photo you see my youngest grandchild.  She’s 4 1/2.  I didn’t realize when I was taking the picture but her big brother is in the background.  He’s 9 1/2 and the second youngest. It now seems appropriate that he’s there because his little sister adores him, as do we all.

I was talking with a friend a while ago and she told me she reads all my posts and that it feels like she’s eavesdropping on my life.  I think that’s an apt and rather appealing description of reading a friend’s personal journal.  I told her I have had a bit of a writer’s block the last few days and I asked whether there is something she would like me to write about.  (My mind was blank.)  She said “the daughters and the children.”  Well, that sounded easy enough.  Since these are my favorite people I have much to say about them.  And there’s the rub:  I don’t like to read or write long posts so I may have to make this a three-part series, one daughter’s family at a time.

These are the children of my youngest daughter, S.  She has two other daughters who are thirteen and sixteen.  S is a teacher in a local elementary school.  She’s also a photographer.  She has a huge heart for children: her own and those she teaches and the neighborhood crew and all others who have the good fortune to cross her path.  She loves all of them and they know she does and that is her great gift.  The world is better for having S in it.

Ms. 16 (H) is a gymnast.  I would like to post a picture of her doing “her thing” but I couldn’t steal one from her mom’s blog.  Darn!  I tried.  But I can tell you she’s poetry in motion.  She went through a major growth spurt a while back and it caused problems on the beam.  She was at the age where a lot of girls quit.  H just became all the more determined.  She stuck with it and overcame.  She’s a dedicated, disciplined athlete.  And I wish my legs looked even a little like hers.  She’s also academically gifted and artistically talented.  She was recently accepted at School of the Arts.  I love watching and waiting to see what she will do next.  She’s my hero.  A precious, beautiful and loving young woman.

Ms. 13 (M) is a natural athlete.  She has tried most of the sports available to her and has excelled at all of them.  I think she’s narrowed it down to basketball and soccer (for now).  When she dribbles or passes or shoots (on the field or the court) she does it all with a grace that amazes me.  She has a big, inclusive heart rather like her mom’s.  Sometimes that great heart causes problems for her.  She often chooses to please her family and friends rather than herself.  But she’s young and has time to learn how to look out for herself.  She, too, has legs to die for.  She has one more year in middle school.  M’s a good kid and a beautiful almost woman.  I am loving watching her grow up.  She’s my hero.

Nine-year-old F is Mr. Personality.  He is small in stature but that is the only small thing about him.  When he was in first grade he played the role of Max in Where the Wild Things Are.  He got up on that stage and sang and danced as if he had done it all his life.  I thought he had found his calling.  Now that he’s older he tells me he wants to be a scientist.  He has an imagination that enables him to think in a way that I have never been able to do.  He figures out ways to put disparate objects together in a way that creates a new tool or gadget.  Maybe he will be an inventor.  He’s always thinking or talking.  Mostly talking when he’s in the car with me.  I think his talking is actually thinking out loud.  (Okay, he might have gotten that from me.)  Oh, and did I mention–he’s my hero.

What to say about little Ms. Es.  At four she is still at the pretend stage.  When she comes to visit me she pretends my house is her house and if I want anything I have to ask her.  She talks nonstop, too.  I forget how much energy a child this age requires until she leaves.  I enjoy, yes relish, every minute she’s here and when she leaves I crash on the couch for a nap.  Es is a little mother.  Sometimes I wonder if she will be the one grandchild who will grow up and decide not to have children.  I say that because she spends so much time pretending to be a mom.  She may become the high-powered career woman since she’s been there and done that with the babies.  I can’t wait to see what she decides.  BTW, she’s my hero.

Note to B:  This is the hardest-to-write post I’ve ever done.  Also the longest.  Sorry.

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