The Many Faces of Nora

Over the years, I have learned how to juggle the different faces, the different masks, if you will, that we wear when interacting with others.  "The Sonja" my husband and daughters see, for instance, is brimming with confidence, wit, and insight, just to name a few. (ha!)  "The Sonja" I share with the outside world, on the other hand, (while still being very insightful, of course) is often more quiet and reserved.  

This phenomenon is by no means unique to me.  It's something we all do. It's perfectly normal.  Nothing to be ashamed of.  It's just what we do.   And by adulthood, after spending a lifetime  perfecting these skills, we become really good at it.  

What I hadn't realized, though,  is that my eight-year-old, already seems to have this mastered.  Thus, I was shocked when I picked her up from school last Friday, and saw how quickly and adeptly she, too, shifts between her very distinct and separate selves.  The one she shows to the world.  And the one she shares with me.  (Lucky me!)

The first Nora was all smiles as she ran up to her lovely teacher and gave her a goodbye hug.  She looked happy, carefree, and ready to run to her Mama and start enjoying the weekend.  The second, No-Longer-Smiling-Nora, was none of the above.  This Nora came to me with a droopy head, sagging shoulders, and tear-filled eyes.   

What had just happened?  And happened before we had even exited the playground!

When I asked her what was wrong, she lifted her head, showed me a face full of tears and despair and cried, "I have so much homework!  I'm never going to get it done!"  

Ka-Boom! In the blink of an eye, my confident and composed little daughter, exhausted from her late-night, homework-filled week, suddenly became an eruption of fatigue and emotions.  Right before my eyes!

I looked into her beautiful freckled face and, in the most positive voice I own, said, "don't worry, Honey.  It'll all get done."

"But it's too much, mama!"  

So much for The Positive Sonja. And I thought, I want that other Nora.  The one she, apparently, left with her teacher.  

"Okay kid," I said.  "No more talk of school.  We are going to see a movie.  You need to decompress."

Oh my gosh, did I just pull a Dr. Phil on my eight-year-old?  Thinking back now,  I can't remember if I actually uttered these words, or if I simply thought them in my head.  It doesn't really matter.  I'm pretty sure she wouldn't have heard them anyway.   She was too busy removing her backpack, tossing her lunchbox on to the floor, crawling over the soccer balls that have been rolling around back there for a week, and clambering into her  seat. 

By the end of "Hotel Transylvania,"  however, My Nora seemed a lot more relaxed and was even laughing.  Exactly what she was laughing at, though,  is beyond me.  The movie was NOT that funny.  Then again, I'm not eight.  

Not ready to go home and face The School Nora, we wandered next door to Barnes and Noble.  Okay, honestly, it was so I could pick up the next  Jo Nesbo novel.  For you see, I have discovered yet another side of myself: The Dark Sonja. The one who is completely addicted to Norwegian crime dramas.  And FYI:  When they say, "Maddeningly Addictive,"  they aren't kidding.  I've seriously lost sleep over these books.  

Looking for a little grit and crime?
Check these books out.  

Finally, we topped off our night by throwing nutrition to the wind and driving through McDonald's for a delicious dinner.  I'm not kidding.  Once in a while, nothing tastes better than a Quarter-Pounder With Cheese and Fries.  

And it was a great night.  Just what we both needed after a long week.  

Later, however, as she readied herself for bed, I noticed her anxiety rising once again.  Calling forth The Super Positive Sonja one more time, I tucked her in, pulled her blanket up to her chin, and tried my best to convince her that everything would get done.   And not to worry. 

The next morning, when she woke me at seven a.m., asking if she could start working on her project, I knew I hadn't been that convincing.  So, I blinked my eyes a few times, asked if I could get some coffee first, and then we hit the books.  

And she worked on her paper before soccer.

The Pajama Clad
Pre-Soccer Writer

She worked on her paper after soccer.  After The Ladybugs DESTROYED their opponent.  After Nora Jane scored a goal.  (Nothing helps relieve stress better than a little physical exercise...oh okay, maybe a win.)

Post Soccer:
Note she didn't even want to change out of
her uniform before hitting the books

Finally,  after a little post-Halloween party work, the rough draft was done!  

Meet Artemis:
Goddess of The Hunt

Dressing up, she found, is also a good stress reliever.  Especially when you get to go through all your Sissy's weird jewelry.  And even if none of your friends know who you are.  (Well, at least they didn't think she was Katniss from The Hunger Games)

By the time School Nora went to bed on Saturday night, she seemed much more calm, if not very tired.    

When I woke up Sunday morning, I was very happy to see Mom's Nora looking down at me.  And she wasn't asking to get to work on her paper. She was asking if she could snuggle with me.  When she decided it was time to get up, we went to Starbucks for coffee and cinnamon rolls.  Then she watched a movie.  Then she revised and edited her paper (per her teacher's instructions).  Finally, for fun,  we went to The Haunted Ballet, where she saw her classmate perform.  At the end of the performance, when I saw My Nora clapping for her friend, like a proud mama,  I knew it was the  perfect ending to a very long weekend.

I don't know if this weekend taught My Noras that life is about balance.  I do know that she worked hard.  She played hard.  And she found a little time to relax.  Just as it's taken me a lifetime to learn how to share my selves with the world, it's probably going to take more than one weekend before she realizes that as long as she takes life one day at a time everything will be alright in the end.  Because the alternative, worrying needlessly, will only result in her becoming her mother.  
(Now, if I could just convince her Sissy of these same things...)

xoxo
S-