She’s just so much muchier than most

I find that I often have trouble recognizing how small Lola is.  She’s only 3; she’s barely out of toddlerhood.  And yet I have to constantly remind myself of that.  I just know I’m not going to explain this well.

She just doesn’t seem small.  First of all, she’s pretty tall.  She’s consistently in at least the 90th percentile (and Corbin was only 70th at his 4 month WBV, I’m so scared that he’s going to be shorter than his sister.)  And that hair!  She has a lot of flippin hair.  My sister always comments that she has the hair of a gown woman.  Plus, don’t we all find ourselves acting as though our kids are just little adults sometimes?

I think, though, that the biggest reason why Lola seems so much bigger to me is her larger than life personality.  When she’s in a room, she fills the whole thing!  Her voice is so big; we have to work and work and work at how to use an appropriate voice level.  Her emotions are so big; when she is happy, she is ELATED, when she is upset, your heart absolutely BREAKS with the level of raw emotion she displays.  (Except for all those times when she’s upset and your heart just sort of hardens to how ridiculously annoying she can become.)  Her hugs are so big, her smiles are so big, her vocabulary is pretty darn big, even her feet are bigger than normal!

Nothing is small or subtle; everything is to excess.  It’s a blessing and a curse.

It is only when she’s not in the room that I really see her smallness.  Her little jacket hangs over mine on the hook and the whole thing just reaches my jacket’s shoulder.  Her tiny little girl undershirts are so sweet and small.  (And so strewn about!  There is a thing called a laundry hamper, people!  It’s right there in her closet!)  And I wonder how those tiny things can possibly fit around all that muchness.

Sometimes, in those rare times of Lola being still for more than 0.5 seconds, she will lay by me and I take stock of how her frame compares to mine.  Her whole body can fit on my torso.  Her thighbones are dwarfed by mine.  One of my favorites is the look of her tiny shoulder blades on her little back.

I am brought back to the reality of her young age when she doesn’t know the right word for “ripe.”  Or when she doesn’t understand that you shouldn’t run outside with no pants on. 

She’s getting bigger by the second, so I’m really trying hard to note the smallness when I can.

Oh, and funny thing Lola said yesteray:  DH brought home onion rings, and she said “ooh, donut!”  I said, “I don’t think you’ll like that honey, it’s an onion ring.”  She happily took a bite and said, “Mmm, onion donuts.”


13 thoughts on “She’s just so much muchier than most

  1. I call my Logan “Lola,” which is funny because she sounds exactly like your Lola. She’s gone beyond Drama Queen to Drama Czar. I always have to remind myself of her age, because she speaks and acts so much older. Like when she says, “You know what Mom, you makin me tired, okay?” That means I’m making her sick. :/ Just have to remember that I still have to react to her as though she’s almost 3, even if she comes off like a 13-year-old.

  2. There are days that I pick my kids up from wherever they’re at and I walk in the door and think, “how did you get so grown up, so fast?” And then there are days, like you, where I am overwhelmed by how small they are.

    And, mmmmm….., onion donuts! Lola rocks.

  3. So small and sweet and big and much. Another post to bring me to tears. You would think all I do at work is sit here reading blogs and crying. But pretty much I only have the tears at Stephicakes. The rest of the internet doesn’t make me cry nearly as often. My boss kind of does, though…

  4. I have the exact same thoughts towards my own two children. They’re three and four, and I’m generally reminded of the fact that they’re so young when we’re out for a walk and they’re running way ahead of me. Both of them have wonderfully developed vocabularies for children of their respective ages, and they’re able to problem-solve and think things through incredibly well. I sometimes pretend to try and put on Saarah’s pajama shirts, and then discover that it does a really nice job of wrapping my hair, but nothing else. She, of course, freaks right out.

    I believe you were previously worried that what you were endeavoring to convey would not come across in the intended fashion, but again you have done a tremendous job. You have a wonderful writing style.

    • Well thank you so much! I tend to write just as I think stuff. I SWEAR I do actually know how to observe grammar rules, I just choose not to. 🙂

      I, too, love to hang back and watch Lola from a distance when I can. I agree, it helps to put her age in perspective.

  5. I feel this way about Gabe ALL the time. One time he was raging in his bedroom with a tantrum and I had to keep the door closed, and it sounded like there was a giant monster in there. But when I opened the door to have a peek…it was just my tiny, frustrated, overwhelmed little guy with a tear-stained face, needing a hug. Those shoulder blades get me, too. He’s still so little and fragile. He’s still learning. Heck, I’m still learning.

  6. I’m from the MSN mom’s group… We don’t really “know” each other, but I really enjoy your blog. You speak from the heart and your words are so true to all mothers and fathers I think… and human kind. I just want you to know that I enjoy your words. And Lola sounds silly and wonderful and overwhelming all at once. I have an Olivia, only 18 months and I am so enjoying watching her grow and become her own person.

    • What a nice thing to say! And yup, that pretty much describes Lola, lol. It’s so fun to see their little personalities develop, isn’t it? Well, except when it’s disconcerting, lol.

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