“..And though she be but little, she is fierce.”
Hannah is my special child. She is so different to Liam, who is easy going and easy to please. He is more of a don’t-really-care-as-long-as-I-can-talk, whatever is-easier-for-you-mom kinda guy. Hannah is not these things. Perhaps it’s because she is a girl? Perhaps it’s because she is the baby and takes full advantage of the fact. Perhaps she thinks she is ACTUALLY the princess we all call her. Whatever it is. Hannah is my special child. I love her because she is all the things I want to be. She is all the things I want HER to be. I hope she stays this way forever.
Hannah is the child who wears her emotions on her sleeve. If she is upset, you are going to know about it. She screams bloody blue (not bloody red) murder if she is pissed off, regardless of where she is, who she is with, or what she is doing. I know immediately if Hannah is upset because I can hear it usually from a block away! There’s none of that coy female stuff of using the silent treatment and getting the answer “nothing” when you ask what’s wrong. This child responds to a crayon breaking crisis the same way she responds to a near death experience.. CRYING LOUDLY. She is emotional. But you know what I love about her, she is extremist with ALL her emotions. When she is happy, she is haaaapppeeee – and this is Hannah probably 90% of her life. Her love language is touch, she hugs and strokes and pats and climbs all over you and will snuggle so close that you’ll start to sweat. All this, ESPECIALLY when she is happy. When she is happy, she is all over the place happy. She makes me happy, just by her being happy. She cries tears of compassion for dead birds, for dollies who have lost a leg or an eye, for her brother when he is getting a hiding… she is emotional.
This child of mine does not need to please to show her affection. Liam is a people pleaser, much like myself. We love to make people happy, we love it when people laugh at our jokes and we love it when people love us. That is who we are, and I make no excuses for that. Hannah couldn’t give two hoots what you think. She does what SHE likes and on her terms, and if you don’t like it, then SHAME. If I say to her, “why did you colour outside the lines there?” she will say something like “so what, who cares, I like it, you can go fly a kite.” Not in those words, but I know that is what she means. And I love her for it. She is so confident and so independent and so unapologetic. She does not warm to people the way Liam does. She will guard you cautiously first, she will stand back and watch you from afar, judge you by how you project yourself, and then decide if you are worthy of her time and energy. And when she decides that you are in fact worthy, she will pounce on you and never let you go. And if you don’t tickle her fancy, she’ll quietly go off and play with someone or something else, no hard feelings. I used to worry that she was a loner, but the truth is she chooses her company wisely and is happy to play alone if the company is not to her liking.
Hannah has only recently started to enjoy wearing dresses, having her hair down and looking “girly.” I’m not going to say she was a late bloomer, because I’ve just begun to understand that this is just my girl. Taking her time to decide what it is she likes, pottering around the idea of what SHE deems as cool, and she’s just decided for herself that this could be fun. I have no doubt that she may wake up tomorrow and tell me to take all these girly things back to the shop because she is over it. That’s my Hannah.
She is so much fun to hang out with. She doesn’t ask a million questions like her brother does (but she can if it’s necessary), she doesn’t need constant affirmation like I do. She is just there. Chilling. Laughing. Playing with my hair. Intertwining my toes or my fingers with hers. Helping me decide what to wear in the mornings, taking my slippers out when I come home from work. Sitting on the edge of the bath and telling me about the stuff in her head while I put my makeup on. Creeping into my bed at odd hours of the morning and patting my back until she falls asleep. She is an angel, this child of mine.
She and I have many fights. We shed many tears of frustration, mine – because I don’t think she understands me, hers – because she doesn’t think I understand her. But I do understand her, she is different and unique. She is perfect in every way. She was formed from the breath of God and I see His touch in every part of the wonder that she is. I try to tell her how wonderful I think she is often, I tell her how amazing I think she is. She knows it. Be still my beating heart, I love this child. Even when she is losing her mind over lost toys and tomato sauce touching the other food on her plate. Even when she stomps off and bangs the door behind her in anger. Even when she cries from the moment she opens her eyes, right through dressing and brushing her teeth, right until we’re in the car and ready to go when she declares “I was only crying ‘cos I was tired mama.” Even when she tries my patience down to a sliver and I feel like I could drown myself in a bucket. Even when she lashes out at her brother when he really was just trying to help. I still think she is an angel. My Hannah Ruth. I love this child. Not the daughter I had imagined, but most definitely the daughter that I needed.