I don't write about her nearly as much as Adrian because she doesn't like me. And most of my posts are just self-glorifying acccounts of how awesome and loved I am.
Adrian and I are both emotional beings with complicated emotions and an overall desire to better the world and make everyone happy.
Ellis just wants you to keep your hands off her fucking stuffed animals and to not have to deal with anyone being emotional. You try to reason with her 4 year old emotions and appeal to her sympathy: "Ellis, when you kick my Toms wedges off and it hits me on the nose and makes it bleed, it makes Mommy very sad. Do you understand?" She just looks you straight in the eye and says, "K. Where's my Daddy?" She knows
Daddy would man up and accept the broken cartilage on his nose without causing a big scene.
|Her usual response to getting in trouble|
Last Christmas, we decided to donate a bunch of toys. Adrian was filling up huge black plastic garbage bags full of toys and murmuring to himself.."wow I am going to make those kids so happy...they are just going to be so blessed...". We actually had to ask him nicely (you always have to ask nicely with Adrian) to not donate any of the new toys he had just gotten from Santa.
Ellis had a broken Happy Meal donkey in her bag and announced that she was done. She looked like she would be the most giving child in the world. She had just gotten out of the bathtub and her hair was slicked back wet, running around our playroom in her little princess nightgown. But she wasn't a princess for the people.
"Ellis, can we please give this bunny that a stranger gave you at a garage sale in the bag? It's so another little girl can have a nice Christmas". She looks up from kicking her brother and says "Um, no. That's my best friend."
"This dirty bunny right here? This is your best friend..." Mat
She finds a broken remote control car and puts it in her bag. "Thas too bwoken to be mine anymore"
|Ellis with her Nana|
A few months ago, I was working from home on the same day that husband with one T had off. He had just gotten her dressed and they were getting ready to leave for school. She came to give me a hug and looked at my sweatpants and mascara-smeared face, then looked back at her Daddy, figuring out the situation-at hand. The horror spread over her face.
She grabbed my cheeks.
"Mommy, wisten. DON'T stay here all day with my Daddy, okay? You need to go to work."
I was confused and watched her walk to Mat and hug him for a long time. When he picked her up and his back was to me and her face was on his shoulder, she gave me a head nod towards the door with her eyebrows raised. Like "Go on now and get outta here".
She's incredibly beautiful. I find myself just staring at her sometimes, wondering how I possibly made something so pretty. She has huge, almond shaped brown eyes with long eyelashes, a nose that couldn't possibly be more perfect, dimples, and long beautiful thick blond hair. I always had hair like this.
|I'm the hottie on the left|
So, needless to say, I envy her hair. I find myself brushing it or pulling it into a ponytail and taking longer than necessary just because I like to touch it and pretend it is attached to my own head. Moderately creepy. It does get curly around her face when it gets wet, so I always have to blow it dry and straighten it with a straightener for special occasions. She stands very calmly and watches me do it, poiting out pieces I am missing. After she is done she has the same response EVERY time.
"My hair is so pretty. How come you're not as pretty as me?"
"Because. I'm older than shit and my hair looks like Courtney Love's. Thanks, Daughter."
One day when I was putting in extensions for a wedding I was singing in, she sat on the counter and watched me. I let her use my lip gloss and she picked up an extension.
E: This isn't your hair.
M: I know it's not, but I like to pretend it is so I feel pretty.
E: How come you don't have pretty hair like me?
M: I do, it just came in a package from Russia and smells like burnt plastic.
E: Ya, but that's not your hair. (looks at herself in the mirror and eyes me in her peripheral vision) MY hair is mine. And it's so pretty.
|A rare picture of us being nice|
So then I asked her how much money she makes and if she slept alone last night. Scoreboard.
A few weeks ago, Adrian was trying to talk to her about her brother-sister etiquette at school. She always calls him Bubba, but at school and on the bus she calls him Adrian. He has gone out of his way to NGAF what the other third-graders think and make sure his pre-k little sister always has his hand in the bus line, and she sits directly on his lap on the bus every single day. So it would seem like she would think it was sweet that he wanted her to call her his loving from-birth nickname at school.
"Ellis, please call me Bubba at school. I don't like it when you call me Adrian. Is it because you think Bubba isn't a cool name? I don't care, I just want you to call me Bubba, okay?"
"Ugh I know your name" She looks out the window at something important, like a sidewalk.
"I know you do, but can you please call me Bubba?"
She makes a long annoyed grunt sound that she even has to have this conversation and Adrian starts sniffling at her cruelty. This snaps her attention from the sidewalk back to him and says.
"Are you crying ADRIAN? Walk it off"
|Collins. She's gonna love me.|