She Was Me All Along

When Emma was one year old she’d take her shoes off and put them back on the wrong feet. I’d change them back. Then she would change them back.

And so it started.

When Emma was two and stamped her feet and exerted her will my mother-in-law told me I was in “so much trouble” when Emma was a teenager.

I believed her.

One of my very favorite things about Emma is her will. Her stubbornness. Her unwillingness to cave. If there were such an award, she’d win, “Least Likely to Succumb to Peer Pressure.”

One of the things that makes me crazy about Emma is her will. Her stubbornness. Her unwillingness to cave.

All this time I’ve blamed my sister Olivia. I even accidentally call Emma Olivia sometimes. She reminds me of her. There have been times when Emma gets a certain set of her jaw, a certain gleam in her eye and I think—Olivia.

I used to pull Olivia’s hair at such times. It never worked so I haven’t tried with Emma (besides I’m a big girl now and supposed to be the grownup).

At Christmas time Emma insisted she had an idea for her dad’s present. I tried to give some input. Emma (looking very much like her aunt Olivia) said, “Is this gift going to be from me or is it going to be what you want it to be?”

I backed down.

Adam is the sole person that has influence on Emma. A few years ago when my parents were visiting, my mom wanted to buy our kids each a book. We went to Borders and Emma chose a silly non-substantive preteen chick lit book and I tried to convince her to get Harriet the Spy instead. It was a standoff. Adam walked up and asked me what was going on. He bent over and whispered something in her ear. Emma shrugged, replaced the brainless book on the shelf and picked up Harriet the Spy. I was mystified, grateful and jealous all at the same time. How did he do it?

Right now Emma and I are planning for her tenth birthday soiree. I have spent time scouring the aisles of craft stores for materials for invitations and party favors. She neither wants to come along nor do I particularly want her to (my children and retail experiences don’t favorably mix) but I’ve tried to get her opinions beforehand. I’ve tried to think of colors and styles she likes.

She’s been opposed to everything.

I’ve started to realize that she’s opposed simply because it’s what I’ve picked out.

Today I was talking to my sister Marianne because she is and always has been The Party Girl. I needed her party input and advice. I told her of my vexing daughter. I said, "I can just imagine when she gets married!"

Marianne said, gently, "Like you."

Then it hit me.

I remembered the Summer War of 1995. The year Adam and I got married and I fought with my mother every day.

I was opposed to every wedding decision imaginable. Looking back, I don’t know why. I don’t know why I cared so much about something that mattered so little. I don’t know why I made my poor mother’s life so miserable.

And I don’t know why it took me so long to realize. Emma has been me all along.

I liked the opposite of what my mom did. Just because. Sometimes my mom would turn me over in exasperation to my dad. He could talk to me more easily.

She was me all along.

And I need to apologize to my mom.

Sorry to be such a pain.

And where, oh where did you get the patience?