Saturday, August 6, 2011

365 Photos Day 217


217/365

Friday was the (mumblemumblemumble) birthday of my friend, Julie. To celebrate, we had pizza and watched this movie. And laughed and laughed. Because seriously? This could BE our families (if we combined them).

One of the things that stuck with me (aside from the whole Superfreak dance routine that Olive did during the talent part of the pageant...and getting grandpa out the window...and yeah, pretty much everything) was the moment when the dad and brother came backstage to plead with the mom to not have Olive go on because they're afraid that she's not good enough to compete with some of the other candidates.

The mom thinks about it, but then says to let her go on and do it. "Let Olive be Olive."

How simple is that?

I thought about the "Let Olive be Olive" thing in regards to my own Kid for awhile before falling asleep last night.

It's not that I think the Kid can't compete with others (although if she does a Superfreak dance, I may have to freak out a little), but sometimes I worry that she's not doing the "normal" teenager-y kind of things, like hanging out with friends more, or having a boyfriend, or throwing fits (I think I'm OK with that, though).

It's just that she's not like, well, ME (which is OK). She's always been an old soul, whereas I'm so not. She really didn't like being a small child, and was always impatient to get on with it all and be an adult. She reminds me (very strongly) of how my own Mom said she was like as a kid. My Mom was perplexed as to what to do with me because I wasn't like her.

And I know most parents would be BEYOND thrilled to have a kid like the Kid, and we are too...but sometimes we look at her like she must've been mixed up in the hospital with someone else's kid (there were a couple others in the nursery, but no others with auburn hair).

So basically, the Universe is telling me that I should just "let Amanda be Amanda" and to enjoy who she is, not who we think she might should be.

Message received and understood.

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