I don’t often sit and write about my children in this blog. Yes, I know it is entitled Bay Area Blind Mom, and I even talk about parenting. I try to focus my blog on me … you know, and mom stuff. Because … it isn’t always about the kids. I’ll mention them in a post, but essentially, I want to blog about what a Bay Area blind mom thinks, feels, and does.
Today though … today … I must write a bit about my daughter. The beautiful … wonderful … charming … manipulative … energetic … funny … screechy … pain-in-my-ass … intelligent MacKenzy.
She’s a pistol. … She’s a riot. … She even has sociopathic tendencies. … There! I wrote it. It was that or she’s a butthole! 🙂 And by sociopath, I mean she does a stellar performance of acting contrite but you know she’s being manipulative and doesn’t mean one word of what she is conveying to you while she smiles and hugs you tightly and places a sweet, sweet kiss on your cheek.
I love my daughter something fierce and she and I have a pretty awesome birth story, if I do say so myself. I hope that she and I will be the best of friends throughout her life.
Welcome to the world little one …
I participated in the first Oakland Women’s March in 2017, and marched myself straight into the hospital after the rally, where I proceeded to be induced a month early, and be in labor for 53.5 hours before my daughter kind of sort of slid out in a hurry. I was standing next to my hospital bed asking the nurse how likely an epidural was when I groaned with pain and yelled, “She’s coming out!” Or, something along those lines. The nurse told me not to push, and I told her it was too late because I could feel her head. I said this all while climbing into the bed, making careful certain I didn’t sit on my daughter.
Of course, reality didn’t happen quite this way. I was in a ton of pain–giving birth to my third child without any drugs. But … the story is mostly correct.
All her names …
She’s my Macaroni. My Macaroni and Cheese-Its. She’s MacK. Super MacK. My nutty little Macadamia nut. Sometimes, she’s even Kenzy, but I’m not allowed to call her that.
I wanted to give her a name that didn’t automatically signal she’s a woman. She was born at an interesting point of american history — having just elected a bully for president, daily reminders in the news of racial violence, police brutality everywhere … and I think, most importantly … I was entering the last two years of a job which was undergoing major internal issues around sexism, ableism, and other isms.
It was important to me that she be given a fighting chance against men when applying for jobs. I would have loved to spell her name McKenzy, but my hubby wanted more vowels. We both definitely did not want IE because that felt girlie. Also, we felt that depending on how she is referred to, people might mistaken MacK for a male name. Either way … girl … boy … we wanted different … strong … preferably, kickass!
The many sides of MacKenzy …
Of my three kids she is the most affectionate and the snuggliest of them all. I take advantage of each hug, each kiss, and each snuggle knowing that one day she’ll be too big for it all.
she loves to ask for a drive-by hug. She loves to plant little kisses on your cheek, forehead, and sometimes, a big smack-a-roo on your lips.
My MacKenzy likes to run around without her shirt. She often explains that she is too hot and she wants to be like her oldest brother. So, most weekends you can find her topless, with her curly long hair streaming down her back and around her beautiful little face. Of course, I don’t want to body shame her or force her to comply with societal rules that females must cover up … but someday … I’m sure she’ll want to keep her shirt on. I hope that she grows into a confident woman who loves her body, because even though I’m mostly okay with my body, I’m not 100% in love with it. I want my daughter to always love her body and never, ever, ever be ashamed of it.
She sucks her thumb …
I’m not in love with this. When she was a month old and discovered her thumb as a way to sooth herself when crying, it was super cute. We took tons of pictures and they were, and still are, adorable. But now, when she pulls her wet, wrinkly thumb out of her mouth and pats my face saying she loves me, it is soooo gross!
I am not the type of mom okay with boogers, saliva, or any type of grossness being wiped off on me. … Just … no thank you.
She’s a charmer …
She is constantly telling me things like: mama you’re the best mama; mama, I just love you; mama, I like you today; and, mama, you make me happy.
This girl definitely strokes my ego. And if I ever needed a cheerleader, this girl is my biggest fan. And … I love it!
It’s funny because I wanted three boys. I did not want the drama, especially the teen years, of a daughter. I can’t imagine a world where I have three sons and no daughter. It would truly be a dimmer world for all. ,
She’s a reader …
I love how she likes to go to bed, lying down on her stomach, a booklight turned on, and a book propped on her pillow. She’ll flip the pages and talk to herself about the pictures she sees. I can hear her telling herself a story, and sometimes, she’s reading to her stuffed animals or her baby cousin Justice.
She’s loving, kind, and caring …
She prepares a spot in her bed every night, right next to her — a tiny pillow and blanket — for her baby Cousin Justice. Almost every night, she pretends to go to bed cuddled with him. He’s all the way in Japan. She’s never met him in person, but she loves him so much and wants to hold him like a baby and sleep with him in her bed.
She adores her brothers and her dad.
When she was younger, she’d wake up in the mornings and start crying because she couldn’t find her brothers upstairs. They were missing and she was sad without them.
Dad is just the best dad ever. she likes to hop on pop. Unfortunately, pop doesn’t like this much.
She thinks airplane flights through the air with dada are just the best thing ever. And she tries to cuddle with him as much as she can. Daddy’s lap though isn’t as inviting as mama’s. Ha!
I love how she plays with baby dolls, toy animals, and her brother Zakary. Those two, when they are playing nicely together, look like twins. They are so similar in looks and age that when they play house, or cars, or babies, or chef, or doctor, or puppy, or horse, or any of the wildly imaginative creations they dream up … they truly are connected in such a beautiful and loving way that only siblings can share.
Sometimes, when her brother is falling asleep, she’ll crawl into his bunk bed and try to sleep with him or start a fun game. This usually leads to yelling on Zak’s behalf. And as a parent, it is tough not to laugh at how cute it all is.
She can be a mischievous little monster at times.
MacKenzy has been known to lock doors. She’s locked herself in her own bedroom. Many times, she likes to go into my room and lock the door. Usually, she’s hunting around for mom’s stash of snacks–which she is very good at finding.
She sometimes jumps on her brothers and punches them or pulls their hair! They could be lying on the couch watching TV or playing games on the tablet, and she just … boom … smack … pinch … punch.
You might ask why?
Well, we’re trying to figure out why. You ask her and she’ll just say with a sweet smile on her angelic face, “I’m sorry mama. I won’t do it again.”
At this very moment, she is screeching and shrieking. A quick time check and I notice that it is 35 minutes past her bedtime and a certain dad is struggling to put her to bed.
So … it’s time for me to stop sharing about the amazing little creature who slid into my life almost four years ago. … The little girl I have so much love for. … The little girl I never knew I wanted.
Signing off for now,
Bay Area Blind Mom