1. At the end of my pregnancy with her, she would put her little feet against my lower ribs and push. Up. Hard. There was nothing to do but go lie down and take shallow breaths, because it was as if she were trying to stretch out and bust out. As if she had big things to do and no more time for this womb business. In literature, this is known as foreshadowing.
2. I have purchased and read no less than three books about strong-willed children, in my effort to understand and parent her well. Kendra Smiley's is my favorite.
3. John calls her my "Mini-me." See number two. That means it's my fault. Or my mother's; she used to tell me, occasionally, that she hoped I'd have triplets and each one would be worse than the last. In retrospect, I don't think that was very nice.
4. My favorite thing she's said lately was during her last cattle show this summer. On the way to the show ring, her whackadoodle steer decided to take off, knocking her down and bringing many tears on his way past. But. She got up, wiped her tears, dusted herself off and took him in the ring. Person after person after person told me how impressed/amazed they were that she went in and showed him anyway. I re-counted these comments to her, trying to make her feel better. Her matter-of-fact reply: "What else was I supposed to do?" Oh, my word, exactly. She is grit and determination, through every ounce.
5. Today is her birthday. She is eleven, and she is smart, beautiful, clever, funny and adventurous. Happiest of birthdays, Jenna Louise!
Five Things: The Series
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