18 Months Later...Let me introduce you to our fiery redhead

Even 18 months after she busted into this crazy world with arms, and eyes, and lungs wide open, I still cannot find the right words to describe Emory.   All of the adjectives and adverbs I can think of sound too cheap or cliché to explain who this little girl is.  But, this blog is here to serve as some small documentary for our family, and, while I’m still unable to find the right words for her, she deserves, and often demands, her own place here.  So, here goes nothin'…this is Emory Ryen. 

Eddie and I didn’t find out if we were having a girl or a boy this go around; so, it’s been an adventure full of surprises from the start.  A girl.  With fiery red hair, a scream that reaches octaves mere humans dare to dream of, and the personality to match them both. 

I knew things would be different with two.  I knew that no two kids are alike.  But this one…this one has pushed me to stretch my heart farther than I ever thought it could bear and forced me to find energy and strength even when I thought the tank was far past empty. 

She’s not the easy going, easy to love, snuggler that James is.    And to be honest, we often butt heads already.  But she adds that special something to our family, and (most days) I wouldn’t change her a bit. 

Don’t be fooled by that innocent looking grin or the sweet “tank choo” spoken when she gets what she wants. 

It’s a trap!  She’s  accrued several adorable nicknames so far: Emmy, Em-Em, Little Bit, Lucy.  They’re all fronts.  Facades she uses to hide behind the(much more accurate) nickname James has given her:  Godzilla.

 

She’s confident and strong willed. 

The rough and tumble kind that will tackle you to the ground then sit on your head when you are down. 

She will always show the world how she feels at any given moment. 

And if she wants to knock down the tower of blocks you just spent 45 minutes perfecting, by God, you better believe that baby's coming down like the Berlin Wall. 

 It’s all or, well… all with Emory.  She’s holds nothing back (not even slobber and snot). 

 She’s my handful, my payback for my own stubborn, defiant and quick-tempered personality, my “karma” for every time I rolled my eyes when people told me how good of a baby James was. 

Oh, and did I mention she’s pretty awesome?

She’s the one that sits in the grocery cart yelling “Hi!” or “Hello” or “See Ya” to everyone that passes by and brings a smile to even the grouchiest of faces.  She’s the one that will make the most ordinary things magical. 

She’s the one who will find her brother’s shoes for him and won’t leave school until she gives everyone in the class a hug.  She’ll make sure everyone has a coat on before leaving the house.  And she’s not even 2.

She has her own world, where every animal (and human for that matter) makes the “ROAR” sound (but whispered, not yelled), because that's the funniest of all the sounds and she loves to laugh. 

Where trucks fly with helicopters and baby dolls don’t need clothes, just hugs (and the occasional toss down the slide).  Right now, bedtime seems to be a favorite.  A time where she can lie down after an exhausting day of entertaining everyone around her, and just be.

 
I’m so grateful to have the challenge of learning, from her, so many things there are to know about this crazy life.  Most days it seems like this kid has it figured out far better than any of the rest of us.  I can only imagine that those high pitched screams and shrills will one day turn into the most impressive aria at The Met.  The thrill she gets from tackling unsuspecting victims will one day be a superpower she uses on the first kid in 3^rd grade that dares  to utter the “G” (Ginger) word around her. 

 That girl sure is something.  And I can’t wait to see what it will be.