Blew It!

Before you met me I was a fairy princess,
I caught frogs and called them prince,
And made myself a queen.
~faith hill, fireflies

We'll get to the 'blew it' part later.

I love being a mom. Besides the on-call 24/7, 'living in a straight jacket' feel it can sometimes have, watching another human being blossom like an exotic, never-before-seen flower trumps all that. My oldest daughter is in a 'turbo blossoming' phase, changing from pre-schooler to little girl right before our eyes. I think you can see your child's personality the moment you first hold them in your arms. How they feed, sleep, cuddle, rest, react is so telling right off the bat. But the story has just begun. Colors are added to the canvas as they grow and show you how they play, relate, rebound, act out, deal. Just when you think you know them inside and out, they surprise you with another dimension to their little spirits.

I watched a new color added to my daughter's palate the other night. With younger sis sleeping, the three of us headed across the street to the pond for a pre-bedtime 'frog hunt' (read, catch the buggers, play with them - some might say torture- release them dazed and confused back into the wilderness). I watched my daughter prepare with flashlight and net, and move with relaxed confidence through the darkness. Now keep in mind, this is slightly scary stuff, a Where the Wild Things Are backdrop. Darkness, bugs, very loud, hidden prey lurking in the reeds. But she moved with a fluidity that comes only from experience, circling around the trees all alone, lost in her own curiosity and imagination. So simple a moment, but simply stunning.

Now behind us, Daddy was grunting and poking with testosterone fueled intensity, determined to catch one of these large, spotted croakers. Lunging, missing, lurking, he moved down the bank. Little one and I headed the other way alone, her up ahead with her little flashlight quietly looking for frogs, me quietly looking at her. Then, bingo. She shined her light on a very large and confused frog, and both of them froze staring at the other. I asked my daughter later what she was thinking at that moment. She replied she was checking him out to see if she recognized him from a prior hunt. No, her thoughts didn't go to fear, as we learn to assume the worst with age ("Is he smeared with some exotic poison slime that will kill us all??" my thoughts). Nor did they go to a catching strategy ("We can catch them all and put them in a box in our house!" my husband's thoughts). No, a simple "Hello. Do I know you??" is all that coursed through her mind. I love kids.

I flagged down Daddy, we netted the poor lad, and then a small, but very loud tree frog that was unlucky enough to be nearby. A frog frenzy followed as father and daughter held their frogs and bonded in that father-daughter way. A good time was had by all -- except the frogs.

I will say this about the experience that night. My oldest is the child that does well in school, is good with her friends, gives her all at soccer/swimming/music lessons, and is basically well behaved. She came that way. But watching her catch that frog that night with such pastoral intuition, such 'one-with-the-universe' enjoyment, made me the most proud of her I think I have ever been. A little bucolic babe!

Now moving on to the 'blew it' part. That's where I come in. Given my recent photography obsession, I obsessively wanted to capture the moment in all it's glory. With no light at the pond, we headed back to the house with our loot to document our prize catch. Did I get some great shots of this magical, everyday moment?? Did the hours upon hours I have read about and played with my camera pay off in our time of glory?? Hell no! What did I do, you ask? I panicked. I bonked. Without going into boring camera terminology, I put the car in reverse instead of drive. The pictures I captured turned out to be monstrosity paying homage to failure.

I began to think I didn't have 'it'. I was a moron among the capable. Inferior. Loser. You know the drill. Then I thought of the words coming out of my mouth all the time to my kids. In my best Glenda the Good Witch posture and tone, I heard myself saying gooey things like (read with very high pitched, syrupy tone),

"That's OK, honey. You only lose if you don't try."
"People aren't born knowing how to do things, they learn by practice."
"You learn the most when you fail, sweetie."

Sickening, I know. But you know? It worked. I got back in the saddle, adjusted my shutter speed, and kept clicking.

Maybe I'm not such a bad mom after all. I better run, though, my youngest is on her third video of the morning . . .