Consider this post an open apology to anyone who attended the 11:40 showing of Big Miracle at the Century 16 theater on February 20, 2012, because I am certain you missed half the movie due to our daughter’s sobbing.  I was crying too, but I’m older and have learned to stifle my cries when in public.  Clark was tearing up, but silent.  And Sam… he remained stoic, but did spend the majority of the movie on the edge of his seat.

Damn that movie was a tearjerker.

It’s based on a true story about three whales who were trapped in the sea ice near Barrow, Alaska in 1988.  It had a somewhat happy ending, which probably comes as no surprise since the word “miracle” is in the title.  But when the credits rolled, Maggie was still so devastated that Clark had to carry her out of the theater.  She was crying so hard that she was physically incapable of walking… and I’m not even kidding.

That’s our girl.  Feelings flow in and out and through her as randomly as the ocean’s rhythms… one minute we are running from a tumultuous tsunami, and the next we are joyously jumping the waves.  One minute we are licking salt water from our lips, and the next it is stinging our wounds.  Sometimes the whales are jumping, and next thing you know that poor baby has to die.  Ebb and flow.

Maggie’s emotions are raw… and I love it.  I must admit, it can be a challenge when the “feeling” is just a paper cut and the “emotion” is a 20-minute wail fest.  Once she got a wooden splinter when Clark was out of town.  I like to think of myself as a pretty capable human, but that was a scenario worthy of the national guard.

On the other side of the tide, the girl is overflowing with so much love that she just can’t contain it inside her little body.  She has to let it out by coloring pictures for everyone she has ever met and stuffing them into envelopes the post office cannot legally deliver (even though she frequently puts real stamps on the them anyway).  Or by creeping down the steps at least three times after she is in bed for “one more hug and kiss.”  Or by kicking and screaming with glee when her dad comes home and clears a tickle zone on the living room floor.  My favorite happens every weekend, when she crawls into bed with us and asks for a “little morning snuggle.”  She always folds in so enthusiastically that I find myself wishing there was a pause button for the universe.

That whale movie was sad, but thinking ahead to the days when my girl will be too old for those morning snuggles is just too much to bear right now.  This is my reminder – savor every moment with her – the ebb and the flow!

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