Eye-reaching Smile

I re-read a book recently with a phrase that says, "And, her smile reaches her eyes." (Just for reference - the book is awesome, "The Speed of Dark" by Elizabeth Moon - fictional narrative about a man with autism who is given the option to take a medical treatment that could make him "normal").


Back to my initial statement: does your smile reach your eyes? Isn't that a great concept to consider?

Yesterday, my smile was definitely not reaching my eyes. I had a bad day. My six year old has turned into a hormonal teenager this past week and crying her eyes out every day after school until bedtime. She was my biggest crier as a baby and now I see the same attribute coming through. Anyway, there were other factors in the bad day, but I thought you might be curious about at least one of them.

At the end of a long day, I chased my 3-yr old down to undress her for her bath, she looked right at me (eye level) and said, "Mom, I just really love your blue eyes." It was so sweet, my icy heart just melted right away. That girl, really knows her social standing in this world and it is going to take her places. I smiled and laughed my first real smile the entire day.

So, here is my funny story about my 3 yo. She loves to hear me tell this story and since she made me smile yesterday, I want to remember another time she made me smile.

Grandpa in a setup with my girl

Last year, my dad had both of his knees replaced. I wento to Idaho to be a support for my parents. I really didn't do much in the way of helping, but it really helped me to be there. I took my daughter, since she isn't in school and could still fly free.

My dad was post-surgery one week and had been out of the hospital just a few days. In all my life, I've never seen my dad so weak and frail. He was white-skinned and simply bony. Seeing him this way, was very difficult for me. I kept thinking, "OK, he is going to die, but everything is going to be OK." I know that is strange to say or even think, I am just being honest. He was so sick that week. My mom was an AMAZING nurse for him. Every day, my daughter and I would go up to their house (we stayed at my sister's home a few minutes away) and I'd do everything I could to help. Each time, he needed to get up from the couch or out of bed, he needed lots of help. He is a big man, even when bony and weak, he was still tall and heavy. My mom and I would brace ourselves on either side of him and pull with all of our mights, yet we didn't want to hurt him. He just kept saying, "More, more, pull more." This happened many times each day.

By the end of the week, he was still so sick and pretty discouraged by the lack of progress. My mom and I kept at our routine of helping him out of the chair. On Thursday afternoon, out of the blue, we hear my little daughter saying, "More, more, more." I ran to see what the matter was and found her, lying on the carpet with hands and feet sticking straight up, imitating Grandpa saying, "More, more, more." 

This was the first and only time, the entire week I heard my ever-funny Dad laugh.You see, this girl has charm.

Look, what the funny man can do now!