She and I must've sang that f@*king song 2 dozen times. This week, after the cake was prepared and decorated, I sang the same song and she looked at me with those big brown eyes and said, "Wallery. Stop singing. Stop singing, Wallery. It's over." This little shit gives a whole new meaning to mood swings. And bluntness. I never could carry a tune.
One minute she's all bubbling over like a bottle of cheap champagne and the next, she's flat on the floor, all limbs stretching outward, throwing a full-on fit of frenzy.
You're right. I understand her. I do.
This has been the story of my life since I was old enough to belly up to the bar with my old man and drink a Shirley Temple. It's just the gift many of us were given and The Cousin is no exception.
It's as if, while she was lying all wrinkly and new on God's conveyor belt with all the other babies being born on her birthday, God took an extra special moment, and with his thumb, poked her little pink chin and said, "You will be tempestuous and you will feel every damn emotion, every day of your life." And she does. And sometimes, there's about a baker's dozen in a single minute.
|So proud of this puzzle completion AND my mood swings.|
But you know what? We have an unspoken understanding for one another.
|Moody mamas zoning out.|
We can handle it. This thing called Life. It's just that feelings, moods, melt-downs, sensitive moments, they all seem to pose as pebbles in the road for girls like us. But they're rarely boulders and we never ever remain face down in the dirt for too long. We always f#*king get back up and back on track.
I tell her, she'll have days like this; days where the rocks seriously cause tumble after tumble. I also try and be a good listener as she explains her plights. Then, I offer up some tools of survival for when the rocks seem massive.
We usually have these "therapy sessions" over juice cocktails, when "you-know-who"
|"I'm catching some zzz's away from those two emotional train wrecks."|
One day, I'll vote for her for Congress because people like The Cousin, those rare individuals who have passion and conviction, are clearly non-existent in politics.
And, she don't take no shit, nor can she be bought. Sweet Pea absolutely places her on a queen's throne. In Sweet Pea's opinion, The Cousin is Queen Cleopatra.
End of discussion.
I think one day Sweet Pea will see her shortcomings, but not now. Now, Sweet Pea is at her beckon call. Anything The Cousin does to her, including bite her cheek, is fair game because she's The Cousin.
|"I'm all yours, baby."|
When it changes for Sweet Pea, and it will, The Cousin is in for the biggest surprise of her life. Those rocks we've been talkin about, will turn to boulders in her road. She will climb over them, but they will require some serious climbing gear. Because the longer I'm around Sweet Pea, the more clear it becomes. She's going to be a "Don't-mess-with-me-kind-of-girl." It's not the mere fact that she could sign-up now for a roller derby team; No, it's not just her physical strength. It's her mental muscle. She's an ardent observer and she's absorbing all the persons, places and things around her.
She's taking mental notes, which she will use appropriately at the proper times.
For now, she's just high on life.
And she's teaching me not to sweat the rocks in the road. She's advising me, showing me how to just let go and move on.
|"Life's a summer day, Baa Bee."|
And The Cousin? She's my mirror. Always reminding me to be who I am, feel what I'm feeling, stay in the moment!
Another note about The Cousin:
She dives into blue paint like she dives into her emotions: with gusto! Sweet Pea can handle that, and her. For now.
I think these two little birds, though different, are just about as sweet to my thirsty soul as honey to a bee. Yesiree.