Disgust This

A conversation in three voices circa 2008,

somewhere in Holland

A motherly tone " So then, I guess you are all done with the big "I am going to clean my room today" project?

A daughterly tone "Uh, yeah, well kind of."

Mother tone "Oh, what happened to the whole "I'll see you later I am off to clean my room!"

Daughter tone "Well, I worked for like an hour up there!"

Mother "So is it clean?"

Daughter " Not exactly."

Fatherly tone joins "What does that mean 'not exactly'"?

Daughter "I really worked up there for like an HOUR!"

Mother "So, it's really not clean, right?"

Indignant Daughter tones "Whatever. My room has character!"

Insightful Father tones " Yes, I've seen that character and I believe his name is TEMPLETON"

Random Acts of Thinking

"So, Mom, how do you decide what to blog about everyday?"

"Hmm. I don't know really baby. I guess I just think things and write them down."

"Oh? And then you just put those random thoughts out there for the whole internet to read?"

"Yeah, something like that...."



These are my thoughts. But you really should go read hers.

Couldn't Be Prouder

Two notes.
hahaha! Get it? It's Music Monday and I am beginning with NOTES? Oh, my I crack myself up.

1. This one is coming to you from out of the archives. And not just because I am completely a little bit lazy, but because it's perfectly fitting for the topic at hand. Well, that and I really liked this one when I wrote it, and since there were precious few of you reading me back in the day then I want to share it again.

2. The television site I reference and link to in this post is no longer in existence. Yup, someone found out about it and shut 'em down. Just didn't want you looking for it and find that my links are dead. No worries though friends, I am finding my pirated television and movies elsewhere on the net now. Shhh. Don't tell anyone!

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Original publishing date: 3 April 2007

I was standing in the kitchen finishing up a few dishes this afternoon when Emma walked into the room. Emma has been home from school for two days with a nasty head cold/cough thing. At parental insistence that she stay in bed and rest she has been willing to comply AS LONG AS she can keep company with the laptop; upon which she has been able to access this site and watch a plethora of television programming out of the UK and the USA. And when you are home sick, and eleven, what is better than a bit of Hannah Montana for your in bed entertainment? The TV links site is a new find for us and we are all just a little bit giddy about being able to watch familiar programming in English, minus under titling.

It's the little things that make us so happy.

But moving back to the topic at hand, my conversation with Emma in the kitchen began with her giving me the back story to an episode of the BBC's Robin Hood.

"Okay so there was a guy, I don't know his name but he wants to shoot the sheriff of Nottingham. At the same time he is aiming at someone he thinks is the sheriff, Marian and Robin are also aiming at him. This guy lets his arrow go and so do Marian and Robin. Then the guy rolls down a hill with two arrows in his arm!"

A pause for breath and a cough. And she launches back in.

"Then the guy starts talking to his dead wife cuz that's why he wanted to shoot the sheriff because the sheriff had something to do with her death."

Breathe.

"Anyway, then the guy says 'I shot him. I finally shot the sheriff' But then the real sheriff comes up behind the guy and says 'No. You shot the deputy' ".

Pause for effect.

"I thought that was funny. Cuz it's totally opposite of the song!"

She grinned and I giggled and then the two of us burst into a spontaneous musical duet at the kitchen sink.

"I shot the sheriff
But I didn't shoot no deputy,
oh no! Oh!
I shot the sheriff
But I didn't shoot no deputy,
ooh, ooh, oo-ooh"

There are some moments in my Motherhood that I think, maybe just maybe something I have taught them along the line has sunk in.

And if that means that my daughter is able to identify the tunes and lyrics of Bob Marley. I am okay with that.

Music Monday, brain child of the brainiac who writes

Soccer Mom in Denial

Thinking of the Cherry Tree

I am barely holding it together myself.

She has walked into my office, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her nose is crimson and her cheeks flushed with emotion. She flops into the chair beside my desk and waits until I hang up the telephone. I turn to her in query and the emotion breaks loose. Her thin shoulders heaving, the echo of sniffles resounding, I beckon for her to join me in my swivel chair and I pull this lanky 11 1/2 year old onto my lap. We sway from side to side as I gently coax answers from my overwrought pre-teen girl. Her words, choked through belly wracked sobs, lay out the tale from start to finish.

It's not an emergency--just a moment.

A moment with her teacher applying too much pressure and her peers too little understanding.

It is not the first moment like this in her life and it will not be the last.

It is as if suddenly being a middle schooler takes on a fully new meaning for her. Now it's not only about having a hallway locker, a new teacher for each subject, and a steady load of homework; it is about growing up.
And coming to terms.
And learning to cope.
More than anything, it's about learning to roll.

With my arms wrapped around her neck and my lips pressed against her ear, I whisper my encouragement.

I tell her that I believe in her.
I tell her she is strong and capable.
I tell her that I love her.

I wish I could tell her that growing up is going to be a breeze.

But I can't lie.

Generation Gap

"Hey Mom. Do you know who Nelly Furtado is? "

"Uh-huh. Of course."

"Do you like her music?"

"Yeah. As a matter of fact I do."

"Me too. Maria went to her concert in Amsterdam. She said it was really good.... Have you ever been to someone's concert before?"

"Yes. I have. Lots of 'em."

"Wow! Really? Who have you seen in concert? I mean is it anybody I would know? Is it anybody, you know.... good?"