Growing Up Beside You

Sometimes I feel that my eldest daughter has more common sense than I do.

8 year old daughter was upset and crying at bedtime and it transpired that she feels inadequate and not able to do the things that eldest daughter can do. That others think less of her. She questioned herself and her capabilities.

I listed and agreed the strengths that eldest daughter displays and discussed the amount of praise she seems to generate from many sources for her behaviour and personality. They cannot be played down or dismissed.

Then I continued to list and praise the character of my 8 year old, her eyes lighting up when I tell her that even though she maybe a messy and disorganised person, she genuinely is the funniest person I have ever encountered. Her quick wit from such an early age, her adult sense of humour, her ability to speedily make light of an upsetting situation in exactly the right way is something I couldn't do.
I admit that she sometimes drives me to the brink of insanity, but if I am there because of another reason, she is usually the only one that can bring me back.

I tell her stories of her toddling about, cracking me up, as she was walking and talking way too early. She was the child that phoned the police every time she managed to get near the telephone unsupervised. She was the one that hid bread, cheese and margarine at the bottom of her wardrobe and we didn't find it before the field mice. She is the one that screamed loudly one new years eve, just after I had settled down with my first glass of red wine, to reveal the blood pouring from her perforated eardrum, cotton bud in hand. She is the child that climbed up the decorating step-ladders left in the bathroom by Granddad and helped herself to a bottle of camomile lotion that she subsequently drank.  The child that was messing on the stairs with an umbrella, the child that I had to tell to be careful in case she fell, seconds before slipping myself and breaking my foot. She was the child who got up excitedly in the early hours, while the rest of the house slept, to go to the holiday suitcases, all packed and ready to help herself to a full box of Calpol sachets. I tell her how important these memories are to me, how many times I have told these stories to friends and after the initial shock or upset or commotion caused, that we have giggled and commented on her sparkiness and sense of adventure.

I remind her that yes, she may be considered lazy by others, but she has always been on a different level with intelligence and could easily reap the awards that eldest receives if she could be bothered. I pointed out that yes, she would in fact look smarter for school and have perfect immaculate hair and polished shoes, if she could get out of bed swiftly in the mornings, without being asked fifteen times. I highlighted that her organisational skills are definitely not one of her strengths, but does she really care?

I also remind her that all the people around her love her exactly as she is and wouldn't dare want her to change even the slightest.

She is a "mini-me." I'm terrible. My reputation for disorganisation and messiness, for being scatty and late, precedes me. More importantly, I could care not.  I have never really been one to care about what others think. Except the ones really really close to me. No doubt, 8 year old will develop the same brazenness if she hasn't started already. Smiles concluding the end of our chat.

I'm so grateful for eldest daughter (just turned 10 years old) as she is like my second in command, ahead of OH, in fact, she could easily run the household. I ask her opinion on things that she shouldn't even be concerned with, rely on her to remind me of appointments, birthdays and shopping lists. She knows who is doing what and why. There are times I feel guilty as it feels like a role reversal and that she is the parent. I have justified it now to ease the guilt by accepting that we are just different personalities. She being the prim and perfect all rounder who will try to excel at everything she tries with 100% effort, without a hair out of place. Whereas I, well, I'm not even sure who I am yet. When I grow up I want to be like her, but for the time being, I will be the messy, loud, chaotic one with unkempt hair, giggling over the 8 year old's comical antics.

I heard a song yesterday morning for the first time that I thought of later on when talking to 8yr old girl.

Growing Up Beside You - Paolo Nutini (YouTube link)

I don't always get the way you feel,
But now I've learned to live with that.
It's like I'm a part of something real.
I was hittin' the bottle, now I've broken the seal.
Looks like I'm growing, I'm growing up beside you

And the sun sets the scene,
While the rain misses me.
And all the time I'll be growing, growing up beside you.