Sophie was born in New York City while her dad was receiving treatment at Memorial Sloan-Kettering and our lives were forever changed. We didn't get another blonde haired, blue eyed Elizabeth, as we expected. Soon we wouldn't have Ryan, either. But, we would have a gorgeous, dark skinned, black haired, brown twinkling eyed- Sophie Ryan. She was and is ALL Ryan.
She's the messiest kid you've ever seen. She draws a crowd because of her eating habits and although she's very intelligent, I've yet to convince her to ever do what is socially acceptable if it isn't something she is personally interested in doing at the moment. Sophie has the strongest will. She will do anything for a laugh and any attention to her is good attention...especially bad attention.
She is an amazingly dedicated artist. Every teacher says this but I'm left with the proof, plenty of proof. She has created mixed-media pieces on my sofas, chairs, tables, walls, tiles, floors, appliances, sinks, mirrors, linens, the siding of our home and her own body. When I managed to finally master hiding and locking-up every writing instrument, paint, spreadable food product, make-up and nail polish in the home, Sophie resorted to using her fingernails to draw "happy bugs" all over the leather sofa. Her gears are always turning and she is always one step ahead of me. All that is predictable about her is that she is unpredictable 100% of the time.
She has no time for pain. Yesterday I watched her run full-speed into a brass door knob, pause for half a second to regain her direction and then commence running full speed (but a little crooked) to her destination. Only when she stopped and saw my facial expression did she realize she hit her head (HARD). At which point she made that face kids make when they are about to cry, let out a two second wimper, then looked away from me and carried on with her master plan. I guess she decided that it wasn't necessary to cry about the concussion/bruise/cut combo but the maybe the two seconds would make her appear more human to me.
Sophie wears me down to the point that I wonder if I was cut out to have children or raise anything more than a goldfish. She is the main reason I still yell at Ryan on a daily basis....and then...and only then...when I am at the very end of my rope that I wish to hang myself with, she pulls me back in just like her father did with a charming smile and those Irish eyes that seem to smile themselves. Sometimes it's a bear hug or she will say or do something hilarious... whatever it takes for her to bring me in alive for the next day of her planned chaos. Only one person has ever been able to challenge me in that way and I'm certain he is proud of this mighty little spirit he has left behind. She is small yet fierce. She is going to make sure that I never take for granted anything in life because even donating blood or getting a root canal is a vacation away from Sophie at this "stage".
A few days before Sophie's birthday, she was a flower girl in an outdoor wedding. I felt for sure she was going to crash the ceremony. (I saw it in my head, she would commando crawl down the aisle, Super Hero underoos exposed, hissing, growling and clawing to scare the other children and maybe pull off a loaded tablecloth during dinner to wear as a cape.) Wrong again, mom-of-the-year! Instead, she crashed right into many hearts....she was a perfect angel. I remember that Ryan always hated Atlanta weddings "too much talking, not enough dancing" is all he would say. His little clone made sure that this didn't happen...and I have the proof for this as well....CLICK HERE FOR VIDEO.
It's easy to state why you love the people who love to please you. But life wouldn't be the same without the people that love to challenge you- those with a contagious care-free spirit and zest for life that makes you want to live to see what is next- because you couldn't possibly know. I wish I could be more like Sophie.
I love you Sophie Ryan. Thank you for the way you keep your daddy alive for all of us.
Happy Birthday!
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so glad I found your blog through twitter. it seems so personal when you see the faces of people. She sounds like her daddy to me. Finished your book last night and then tried not to sob to my husband at the end of each page. I had already laughed with him during the whole book. He has been in the Army for 20 years so he could relate to some of it. I have never discussed a book with him before. Thank you for sharing your life with me. Wait that sounds creepy, thanks for sharing your life with us
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