"E" Stands for Extrovert

I have often said that God has a sense of humor, but never has it been so apparent to me than since I had kids. For example, I'm an introvert. Not the "socially-awkward-hermit" type, thank you very much. I just prefer to process things internally. I recharge by going off by myself. I have a few very close friends as opposed to a mile-long contact list in my phone of people that only "kinda" know me.

And then somehow, I managed to give birth to a raging extrovert. Of course, we didn't know this right away, but it became apparent rather quickly. She has big eyes like her momma, big mouth like her daddy. :D (love ya, babe!)

I sometimes still don't know how to handle her. She sings loudly in the grocery cart at the store (complete with hand and arm motions). She hams it up for bystanders. Introduces herself often to perfect strangers and invites them to come to the playground with us (and in most cases, we're not even heading to the playground, so this is usually news to me). People, animals, yes- sometimes even plant life, are all subject to her queries. And what do I while this is happening? Stand around awkwardly and pretend to play with my iPhone because, for the love, I just want to get in and out of the store without having another innocent shopper or street walker find out that Milo pooped in the tub last night.

So Little Miss Congeniality started preschool yesterday. And in typical Ella-bug style, she marched right in to her classroom, introduced me and Milo to her teachers (not even kidding), found her cubby and immediately started baking a purple cake in the play kitchen. Yep, that's my girl. Later, friends texted and called to see how I was holding up. "*sigh* I guess I'm hanging in there..." I typed, as I sat with a mug of coffee in my hand while Milo took his morning nap and I suddenly found myself reclaiming my living room. And while it's true that, once upon a time, I cried for an hour when we moved her from our bedroom precisely two feet across the hall to her nursery, I was shocked at my own level of emotional stability yesterday. Turns out all of us were ready (well, as ready as we could be) for her to reach this milestone. I did get a little bit nostalgic when I walked upstairs into her room and saw "Monkey" (her most beloved stuffed animal) lying on her bed. People told me children grow up fast, but I guess I just always thought they meant the "slow" kind of fast. Or that maybe they'd turn around and say, "gotcha! just kidding!"

Turns out, they weren't joking. It's actually the fast kind of fast. The "I-can barely-remember-when-you-were-a-baby" kind of fast.

Time for you to spread your first set of wings, baby girl. We love you.