This week is my two-year anniversary as a blogger! We affectionately refer to these occasions as “blogiversaries” in the blog world. I’m going to commemorate it by sharing one of my favorite stories. I wrote this post during my second month as a blogger, and had to take it off my website when it was published in an anthology last year. I’m happy to say that I am now allowed to re-post it! I hope you enjoy it- this post is extremely close to my heart and one of my all-time favorites.
It was a Saturday afternoon in early May, and I was on my way home from a heavenly 90-minute massage. The state of relaxation I enter aprés-massage is so foreign and disorienting that I often struggle with the five-minute drive home. Nonetheless, I drove home as fast as I possibly could, certain that my arrival would avert some crisis that would have snowballed had I pulled up 45 seconds later. My family was sitting on the front lawn waiting to welcome me. On this particular occasion, although there was no actual “crisis,” the scene was problematic in its own way. Pulling into the driveway, I noticed that my five-and-a-half year old had set up some sort of makeshift table out of an old box. Ahh, a “stand” of some sort, I supposed, noting a construction paper sign and stack of papers weighted down by a rock.
“Mother’s Day cards, one dollar!” Izzy bellowed. I shot a dismayed look at my husband, who shrugged apologetically. I glanced around our deserted block, a quiet cul-de-sac; there may as well have been a soundtrack of chirping crickets and tumbleweed blowing by. Hmmm. Perhaps not the best market for our product. I rushed inside and dug 27 cents in change out of my purse. Fortunately, the kindergarten curriculum had not yet covered money skills. Enthusiastically, I selected a card (for myself) and forked over the change. Izzy looked temporarily pleased, and then went back to her job.
“Mother’s Day cards, one dollar!” she boomed to no one in particular. It took approximately a minute-and-a-half to shift from confident entrepreneur to irritated salesperson to despondent outcast. “Nobody wants to buy my cards,” she whined plaintively. “I’ll never sell any.” I feebly attempted to describe the current abandoned state of our neighborhood, skipping over altogether my explanation of the common practice of purchasing one’s OWN cards for one’s mothers, assuring her it had nothing to do with her skills as an artist or stand-operator. Inconsolable, she began to destroy her handiwork, ripping up her cards and knocking down her stand.
My actual card from Mother’s Day that year.
“Nobody likes my ideas!” she wept. OK, that’s my trigger point. She may as well have told me that nobody came to her birthday party. Although mindful not to be a helicopter parent, I am unable to watch my child descend into imagined worthlessness without desperately trying to convince her of her excellence. I crooned and cajoled, but she was having none of it. I looked up in desperation and saw two skinny young teenage girls emerge from their house.
“Look, Izzy!” I exclaimed a little too brightly. “Let’s go give those girls one of your cards!” At this point I thought it best to abandon Izzy’s money-making efforts and just settle for feeling wanted. Of course the girls were delighted to receive their slightly ridiculous cards and were appropriately effusive towards Izzy, who smiled smugly. I, on the other hand, had just caught a glimpse of all the years ahead of rejection: low-profit lemonade stands, Daddy desperately peddling girl scout cookies at the office to make our minimum sell, failed admission into clubs of tiny mean girls, boys laughing at her requests to dance, juvenile delinquents breaking her heart…
On the 4th of July, her creative endeavors took on a different form. We were planning a holiday barbecue and had invited family and friends over, including several children Izzy’s age. The evening before, she spent a good deal of time on the living room floor with my dad, handwriting invitations to a parade that would occur the next day. Each note read as follows: “Everyone. There will be a parade at 4:30.” She rolled them up like scrolls, banded with her brand new hair rubber bands, and announced her intention to deposit them on the stoops of every house on our block just like newspapers. I didn’t pay much attention at this stage. Assessing the likelihood of her follow-through, I reflected back on the dozens of personalized invitations to her “ball….tea party…talent show…concert…” that never actually came to fruition and foolishly figured we were safe.
The next morning, she loaded up her invites in a shopping bag and announced it was time to deliver them. My heart sank. Of course I complied, put the baby in the stroller, and watched Izzy skipping gaily ahead of me, shopping bag swinging. I flashed back to my own five-year-old self, delivering rocks painted with watercolors to my own poor neighbors. Oh God, she’s me all over again, I thought, and not for the first time. These are truly cringe-worthy moments as parents, when we see all too clearly our most painful and vulnerable qualities reflected in our children.
After having delivered all of the scrolls, one of them by hand to some man I have never seen before, we had a lengthy discussion about what would happen if:
- It rained.
- The other children coming to our gathering didn’t want to participate.
- All of our neighbors were at other people’s houses for the holiday, leaving us without an audience.
- The parade, in general, did not go as we had planned.
Yes, I’m Type A.
When 4:15 rolled around, we excitedly gathered our parade equipment. Izzy’s sweet uncles had graciously agreed to participate in the parade to stack the odds against failure. We were at a loss as to what to do about the parade music, it being essential that John Phillip Sousa’s marches accompanied our festivities. God bless Uncle Brian. Not only had he brought along the juggling sticks from his youth, in a stroke of genius he pulled his car into the cul-de-sac, set his iPod on repeat, and blared “Stars and Stripes Forever” from the car stereo. The symphonic strains blasting unleashed a wave of giddiness in me, as I remembered all the years of our own dad-led 4th of July parades. (Apparently this need to take to the streets with red, white, and blue streamers runs in the family.)
Led by the aforementioned grandpa/bandmaster waving his baton, we took off. Izzy and pal rode in her electric jeep, waving patriotic pinwheels, Grammy pushed the terrified and bawling baby in her decorated stroller, Uncle Brian juggled his impressive diablo sticks, and Uncle Brandon waved the flag. Yes, we were a motley crew, but pleased with our efforts and having one hell of a time. Then I spotted them. One of our neighbors down the block was having a barbecue, and at least a dozen people stood out front to watch our homemade parade. My eyes pricked with tears, knowing what a success this would feel like to my brave and ambitious daughter. The kids and grownups clapped and cheered as we marched by, Izzy beaming.
As I thanked my brother later for his stellar efforts in making Izzy’s dreams a reality, he shrewdly responded, “Well, we saved her from humiliation. There isn’t much in life that is more important than that.” I knew I had many years ahead of me of trying– and likely failing– to save my daughter from humiliation and heartbreak. But on this one day, the success and magic of our homemade parade was enough.
Stephanie this is just beautiful! My heart broke a little for your daughter but I love how you were able to make it work for her and she saw her efforts rewarded, if even in a small way. I think that is really good parenting!! Thanks for sharing this piece! Oh, and happy Blogiversary!
Thanks so much, Kathy! I know we have many more experiences like this one to come! 😉
Happy Blogiversary, friend! I love this story 🙂
Thank you, my friend!
Absolutely wonderful story and message. Gosh, I love Izzy’s uncles! Good luck to you in the coming years and peace and comfort to Izzy.
Thank you! I love them, too… 🙂
First: Happy Blogiversary!! Amazing!!
Second: Oh boy do I identify with Izzy! I always had some big plans, once I tried to create a birthday party service called Smarties Parties (genius, I know) I made a sign and hung it at the local grocery store. I was about 10 at the time and my hand drawn flyer clearly spoke to that. No takers. If only I’d had a computer and printer back then, I’d be a birthday party maven today! So brace yourself, those ideas are only going to get bigger.
OMG, I am dying! I can totally picture it. That’s a brilliant idea, my friend.
What a wonderfully told story! I loved every bit of it, from the delivery to the triumphant finish. I felt on edge for her, hoping it would work out…I’m so glad it did.
Happy blogiversary to you, one of my favorite people. 🙂
Oh, thank you, my friend. The feeling is mutual!
Love this!! And Happy Blogiversary! You’ve accomplished so much in 2 years. It’s amazing. What a sweet mom you are to make her dreams come true. My kids recently sold donuts at our yard sale, and it was almost funny to me how little they cared about making money. My 5 year old gave away all their earnings to the neighbor. :/ I think I have different lessons to teach. 🙂
Oh, that is too funny! Yes, I suppose we all do have different lessons to teach! 🙂 And thank you for the kind comments!
Aww, I honestly can sat here reading the whole article hoping upon hope Izzy would get her happy ending for this parade and she did thanks to Uncle Brandon. We have an Uncle Michael (my brother) and he thankfully has helped in saving both my girls from humiliation thus far. So, I thank god everyday we do have an Uncle Michael. Happy 2nd Blogiversary, Stephanie and remember when we were just starting out – you have come a long way and definitely have a lot to be proud of!! Time definitely does fly 🙂
I know! We’ve come a long way since we started, haven’t we? Time totally flies. Thanks so much, Janine!
What a great story! Gave me goosebumps. Your daughter has such spirit and though you may fear for her I bet this memory will give her strength when life, inevitably but not always, refuses to join her parade. Happy Blogiversary!
Aw, thanks. I love that story, too, probably because it didn’t end in total devastation! Thanks for such a sweet, insightful comment!
I’m glad that everything turned out so well for Izzy’s parade! Great story. Happy Blogiversary!
Thanks so much, Kimberly!
I don’t know how I missed this story the first time around, but I am so happy to read it now. What a beautifully told story – I loved everything about it! As for two years blogging – WOW – congrats! Hey you know what I just realized, I’m right behind ya – 2 years for me in August!
I know! We discovered each other shortly after we started blogging, but I wrote this post the very first month I started, and I don’t think you and I had found each other’s blogs yet! Wow, time flies! I remember thinking that you must’ve been an old veteran blogger, and being so surprised to find out you were a newbie, too! 🙂
I remember this. I think it’s when I first found you and assumed you’d been blogging for a couple of years. To think, it was just a few months before I started! Happy 2 year blogiversary, Steph! What’s Izzy got planned for this 4th of July? Maybe a combo lemonade stand and parade?
Happy blogoversary. Is that a word? I adore Izzys parade and that your brother saw the importance of little girl dreams. Beautiful
Oh wow, I missed my blogiversary! I think it was this week!
Anyway, my son is not old enough for me to have these fears, but every once in a while I see another little kid push him or something and I wonder… will I have to have my heart broken over and over some day? Brings tears to my eyes. Trigger, indeed.
But then, well, then it ends so great, doesn’t it? And kids are so much more resilient than we give them credit for. Lovely post, Steph.
Oh, how I love this story. I remember being like Izzy, and I can certainly remember feeling like you as a mom who wants to save her child from heartache. While not quite the same, last month my kids left fliers at all the houses on our street, asking for donations for a shelter they were collecting for as part of a temple project. I was so afraid no one would respond. Only three people did, but God bless those three people! Reminded me of your neighbors coming to watch the parade.
And happy second blogiversary!
First, happy blog anniversary!
And wow, thanks for sharing your story. I have yet to experience this even though I know it’s inevitable. We want to save our kids so much from life’s disappointments and it’s so hard when we can’t. So glad you guys made her ambitions possible with the parade 🙂 What a great redemption.
I related to this so much, both from my own childhood perspective and from watching my older daughter. An amazing post friend that left me completely teary-eyed.-Ashley
This was a great story to share! And happy anniversary of your space in the blogosphere. It’s better with you in it.
Stephanie this brings back so many toe curling memories for me – from both my own childhood and those of my children. It also reminds me of my need to screech to a halt last summer when I spotted a lad selling homemade lemonade on the block above our house. My two teenagers gaped as I flew out of the car and bought not one but six cups at twice the selling price. Couldn’t help myself. Had to pee like a racehorse when we finally reached our destination an hour later but it was worth it. The wee merchant’s face breaking grin is simply something I’ll never forget. Happy 4th of July tomorrow! May your parade happen and be a huge success!
Beautiful story, you are such an aware mother. Izzy is blessed with her family.
You, Izzy uncle and the rest of the family were very creative to avoid heartbreak and lack of confidence for your daughter.
It is an inspiration story for parents to become more aware of parenting skills.