"Ophelia! Please just put on the jacket," I whined like a child. I was waving around her jacket, begging her to just put it on. She had been running around the house, sticking her tongue out at me, while I chased after her to put on her jacket.
A part of me wanted to give up, to walk out of the apartment with my child in no jacket, but another part of me didn't want to deal with a sick kid tomorrow.
"Please Philly," I said. I was on my knees, scooting over to her like an idiot. She stood in place, arms crossed, head to the side, not willing to look at me. Her lips were pouting, because she had told me earlier 'jackets are for morons.'
I wrapped my arms around her laying on the floor with her kicking and laughing against my grip. I showered her in kisses and tickles, listening to her giggles that always make my heart melt.
Once I was done playing around, I got back up, still cradling her in my arms. "Jacket or no skating," I tell her, eyeing the pink puffer that was thrown onto the floor during my final attempts.
That immediately got her, because she ran over to where the jacket laid on the wooden floor, picking it up and putting it on herself. "Please skating," she begged, trying to zip up her jacket.
I laughed, smiling at the cute pout forming on her little pink lips. Her cheeks were full and plump, so innocent and adorable. Her silver eyes were sparkling even under the gloom of clouds and rain that was teasing the sky. She looked like her dad so much, even though a selfish part of me wished she'd taken more of my features.
She had my auburn hair, which made me most thankful, thick locks stranding her hair even for such a young age.
I helped her zip up her jacket, wiped the pout off her lip, and helped put on her fur pink boats that she was so proud of she bragged about them to an passerby. Her hair was in small braids, while the beanie that she picked out—because she refused the matching white on I chose her—stood atop her head.
Ophelia had a large attitude, but I didn't like putting it that way. She was bossy, indeed, but she just knew what she wanted. If she wanted to wear a certain color or thing, she would debate and argue like her life depended on it. Something I couldn't say I also obtained.
It was an attribute about her small stubbornness that I appreciated the most. Another thing she took from her father, but I don't like to remember it. I just like to remember it as the fact that my daughter was powerful—and every mother wants that for their kid.
"First we're going to get breakfast, 'cause mama needs coffee," I explain each step to Ophelia, as I usually do in the morning. She giggled at my comments, but nodded her head in understanding, shifting on her heels and toes. "Then we go to the rink, you can sit with Steph while I practice. After, you can skate too." She was so thrilled at the idea of her getting to skate.
I was a figure skater. Very good in fact. So good, that it is how I make a living. I've been to the Olympics a twice, which is the most surreal experience. Along with that, I do competitions almost twice a month—if I get lucky, more. Five times a week I practice at the rink near my house.
My coach, Stephanie, watches Ophelia when I'm skating, usually leaving her every couple of times to critique my form or something simple like that. Ophelia never got bored with Stephanie. I always made sure to pack snacks and coloring pages and children's books to keep Ophelia occupied. When I get a break, I usually let Ophelia skate, slowly teaching her to learn.
It was a good routine, one I have been doing since she was a baby. But some days it's hard, when Stephanie has to teach a class—which always land on Wednesday's. Sometimes I just have to check on Ophelia, always putting her in a spot where I can watch her.
Competition days we're some of the hardest. Stephanie got busy those days, so I would have to find a friend to drag to watch Ophelia, or drive hours to my parents just to drop her off for the weekend.
Even with everything, I loved my daughter more than my own life. She is everything to me, my world revolves around her. I've been contemplating lately if I should hire a babysitter, even a live in nanny, to help. But I don't know how I would do that, and those people are expensive as hell. I've tried a babysitter once—desperate days—and it was absolutely horrible.
"Let's go Philly," I say, picking her up and all the bags I carried with me on a daily basis. My skating bag, along with a tote full of things necessary in keeping a three year old sane. Once everything was ready, we were out of the house.
<<<>>>
"Juliette, keep that leg straight," my coach corrected. I looked over into the stands, seeing Ophelia was lost in a role play with her Barbie dolls. A smile crept on my lips as I went back to my starting position, attempting to perfect my routine.
My brain was trying to focus on so many things at once. How much I needed to remember to straighten my leg at the perfect second while doing a needle. And how I also had to figure out who was going to watch Ophelia while I went to the competition.
Stephanie was nice to a point, she would watch Ophelia while I practiced, she'd make sure that she had the best seat during those sessions so I could watch her from the rink, but she could only do so much. I couldn't burden her with one more task, even if she accepted it which would be unlikely.
The girl hated kids, she made an exception for Philly because she believed that Ophelia was the only child that wasn't 'insane or on a sugar high every ten seconds.' She'd repeat that phrase to me in her Minnesotan accent every time I mentioned the struggle of finding a nanny who'd work within my hours—which were always ridiculous.
I went over my routine one more time, remembering the corrections that I had to do. My knee was starting to hurt, and the blister at the bottom of my toe that has been conjuring itself for the past five days was straining against its restraints. But as I was about to do one of the many axels in my routine, I passed by the most precious child—so innocent at play with her dolls—and I couldn't help the small smile that grew on my lips.
She was a reminder of why I did all of this, no matter the amount of injuries and struggles I've gone through to get to where I am.
Landing the trick, I didn't have enough time to celebrate my happiness before Stephanie could yell "take five" before going outside for her mid day smoke break.
"For you," I whisper the words, staring at the little girl that I love so much and would do anything for. But looking at her, invested in the storyline of her dolls bouncing in her small hands, I was reminded of the fact that I needed a nanny. Because no matter how much I made the attempt to be around, she still needed someone to watch her during competition days, especially if I am trying to qualify for the national team in a couple of months.