We are a family of Star Trek geeks. Bing is the worst, though. Today, as she, Liv and I drove to the theatre to see Into The Darkness, she looked down and moaned, "I forgot to wear my Star Trek tee shirt. We have to go back!"
Of course, we didn't. We knew it would be crowded, wanted to get good seats.
We all settled down with our popcorn and sodas and there they all were, Jim Kirk, Mr. Spock, Bones...Scotty...
We are such geeks that when line references were thrown out, we looked at each other and nodded happily. Yeah. Uh huh. We caught that one. And that one too.
Halfway through the movie, Bing leaned over and said, "I am so glad that my partner is a Vulcan. I like the challenge...."
It's one of our jokes. More than one of my exes has referred to me as aloof or cold. One actually asked me where my pointed ears were as she was certain that I was a Vulcan.
Logical. Unemotional.
No one can accuse me of wearing my heart on my sleeve. I keep it well under wraps. Along with my freak flag.
As we were driving home, Bing looked over at Liv and me happily.
"Not only am I going to make fried chicken for dinner, but guess what is on the FX channel at 7:00?"
Liv and I couldn't guess.
"THE STAR TREK BEFORE THIS ONE! THE FIRST ONE WITH ZACHARY QUINTO AND CHRIS PINE!"
The excitement in our car was palpable.
The rest of the conversation on the way home revolved around if tribbles would make good pets. If we will ever see a real warp drive in our lifetime (or..more likely, Liv's) and why Khan makes a perfect villain.
We are such geeks. But, happy ones.
Bing now has her Star Trek tee shirt on. Life is good.
Any other trekkies out there?
Sunday, May 19, 2013
Saturday, May 18, 2013
The best day....
This morning, we put in the garden. It was late for us. We generally try to put it in the first weekend of May, but it's been such a cold, wet Spring and I haven't been feeling all that well, so...we had to wait.
But today was the day. Liv did so much of the grunt work, bringing up ALL the baby plants from the basement where they have been living under lights since early March. It took her over TWENTY trips! But, hey...she's young, and she has those big guns, you know.
Bing had already tilled the earth and prepared it and we were ready to go.
It's all done now, all my sweet babies in the soil, stretching their little necks up and slipping their little rooty legs down. Settling in for a long growing season. We are organic gardeners, which make everything a bit harder. We hand weed. Not Liv's favorite job, nor mine.
Our garden started out very small, only about 10 feet by 10. It now takes up a quarter of our yard and we have a HUGE back yard. We grow so many things. Sweet peas, lettuce, carrots, radishes, artichokes, cucumbers, potatoes, onions, okra, tomatoes (heirloom...ALWAYS grow heirloom..they do taste better...I promise you..), pole beans, peppers, pumpkins and zucchini. I always swear that I won't grow zucchini again every year since it grows prolifically and we end up with neighbors running when they see us coming as we try to foist our abundant crop of them off on them. But, then I always end up saving some seeds and growing them. How can I say no to something that wants to live so badly?
We surround our garden with our herbs. We have chives, lavender, basil, mint, parsley, chicory, thyme and rosemary. The rosemary has to be constantly cut back as it likes to spread out and overtake everything else.
We purchased a few more additions to our plant life this year. Every year, I plant petunias or pansies in all of our container boxes in the back yard. Every year, I have a constant battle with rabbits who love to munch on them. So, this year I consulted all my gardening books and chose periwinkle instead. It is beautiful and supposedly not all that tasty to rabbits. Isn't it enough that I plant a complete section of lettuce for the rabbits alone?
This is what my periwinkle looks like:
I also bit my lip and bought some dahlias. I haven't had luck with them in the past, but am hoping that the third time will be the charm.
Dahlias:
Then we bought three blackberry bushes to put on our fence line and three yellow rose bushes to place in front of our sun porch to mingle with the calla lilies.
At last we finished, but it was an all day job and we are all stiff.
My garden is always well ordered, I have tried sloppy gardening before and found that it made me feel frazzled, so now I have order in my plot. My garden looks very much like this:
But...a bit bigger. I don't keep things in super straight rows, I just try to put them in their own little groups. I surround my garden with marigolds to keep the critters away and they really do work. Plus, I always plant a big section of lettuce and I leave it open for those pesky bunnies so that they can feel all rebellious as if they are raiding my garden. Makes Peter Rabbit feel as if he as outwitted Mr. McGregor....
Now all the plants are sitting their spaces, smiling happily. Our other flowers are just coming back to life. My lilac bushes, lilies of the valley, and peonies are starting up. Soon, the whole yard will smell like lilacs and lilies. I will go sit outside on summery nights and just take big deep breaths of the scent. The roses are blooming, as are the bachelor's buttons, bleeding hearts, bells of Ireland, poppies, sunflowers, daisies and calla lilies.
I feel energized. This happens every year. I sigh and think of all the work and then...suddenly everything is in the ground and I feel this..rush slide around in my veins. It's as if I'm connected to the life force in our yard and I feel their happiness to finally get out of their tiny little pots and be able to spread out in the garden.
After all was done, I stood smiling over the garden, the dripping hose in my hand. I felt Liv come up behind me and put her arms around me, her chin on my head. I laughed.
"I used to do that this to you and now the tables are turned!" I told her.
I felt her smile. "I know, you are such a shrimp...."
It felt nice standing in the sun with my daughter's arms around me, seeing my partner cleaning all the tools with her bucket of water just to the side of us.
Liv sighed. But, it was a happy sigh. She has inherited my love of gardening, handed down from my Da and his grandmother. My Da could make anything grow. He could stoop down and feel the loaminess of the soil and tell what amount of acidity it held, how rich it was, what would grow well in it. He taught me so much and I have passed it down to Liv.
Maybe she'll pass it on to her child or children.
She tells me that she wants to live where she can garden every year, that being outside and yes, even weeding, is cathartic.
"I sort of think all my deepest thoughts out here," she said.
I know exactly what she means.
I feel life under my feet, under my hands as I weed and prune, sort and stroke. As I set our hoses with the pin holes in them to water every few days if Mother Nature doesn't supply the rain.
I LOVE the first salad of the year that is made exclusively from our garden. Someday, I will be too old to do this and I dread it. Already, my RA causes me to be stiff and achy if I crouch too long.
But, I can't imagine not having my garden, not laying outside under our oak tree on hot summer nights singing to the vegetables, herbs and flowers. Feeling them sway with our voices.
I feel them growing in my veins, I swear it.
I thought it would be too hard this year, but like every year, I was proven wrong. I feel energized by these tiny shoots of life. The sheer joy that emanates from them and spills into me.
I swear that I will have a garden every year until my last year on earth. I will have my hands deep in the deep black prairie soil, coaxing roots to take hold. To stand up tall and let the sun bake them gently, sleepily and the rain cool them and sustain them.
The life in my garden brings life into me.
It was the best day. And I didn't burn. I wore my wide brimmed hat, the one that Bing says makes me look like a Southern belle. The one that Liv says makes me look like a little old lady.
I always end up taking it off halfway through, wanting to feel the sun on the top of my head. I refuse to use the gardening gloves that Bing bought for me. I need to FEEL the soil.
If I were a hippie, I would call it being one with the land.
Instead I will just say that my garden makes me hopeful for the future and happy for today. Eager to watch something bloom under my touch. Feel magic in the soil, in my fingers, in myself.
Tonight is quiet. Liv is at a graduation party and then will sleep over at her friend, Cynthia's house. Cyn is the middle child of 9 kids...ALL the rest of her siblings are brothers. She comes over to our house and sinks into the peace. Liv goes over to her home and revels in the chaos.
Liv will come home tomorrow, sleepy from not much sleep and ready to be back into the quiet of our home, our garden. We will go out at night, arms around each others waist and watch Socks try to catch that black squirrel that is a thorn in his side. We'll smile at the garden and maybe lay down to sing to the vegetables. When Liv was little, I had her believing that our singing was soothing to them, our good night song to them.
Now, she is older but concedes that she still needs to believe that they are listening to us.
I need it too. And this year, I badly need to watch something grow and bloom. I want it to be catching, bring me back from all my fatigue and deep bone pain.
I want to bloom like they do.
But today was the day. Liv did so much of the grunt work, bringing up ALL the baby plants from the basement where they have been living under lights since early March. It took her over TWENTY trips! But, hey...she's young, and she has those big guns, you know.
Bing had already tilled the earth and prepared it and we were ready to go.
It's all done now, all my sweet babies in the soil, stretching their little necks up and slipping their little rooty legs down. Settling in for a long growing season. We are organic gardeners, which make everything a bit harder. We hand weed. Not Liv's favorite job, nor mine.
Our garden started out very small, only about 10 feet by 10. It now takes up a quarter of our yard and we have a HUGE back yard. We grow so many things. Sweet peas, lettuce, carrots, radishes, artichokes, cucumbers, potatoes, onions, okra, tomatoes (heirloom...ALWAYS grow heirloom..they do taste better...I promise you..), pole beans, peppers, pumpkins and zucchini. I always swear that I won't grow zucchini again every year since it grows prolifically and we end up with neighbors running when they see us coming as we try to foist our abundant crop of them off on them. But, then I always end up saving some seeds and growing them. How can I say no to something that wants to live so badly?
We surround our garden with our herbs. We have chives, lavender, basil, mint, parsley, chicory, thyme and rosemary. The rosemary has to be constantly cut back as it likes to spread out and overtake everything else.
We purchased a few more additions to our plant life this year. Every year, I plant petunias or pansies in all of our container boxes in the back yard. Every year, I have a constant battle with rabbits who love to munch on them. So, this year I consulted all my gardening books and chose periwinkle instead. It is beautiful and supposedly not all that tasty to rabbits. Isn't it enough that I plant a complete section of lettuce for the rabbits alone?
This is what my periwinkle looks like:
I also bit my lip and bought some dahlias. I haven't had luck with them in the past, but am hoping that the third time will be the charm.
Dahlias:
Then we bought three blackberry bushes to put on our fence line and three yellow rose bushes to place in front of our sun porch to mingle with the calla lilies.
At last we finished, but it was an all day job and we are all stiff.
My garden is always well ordered, I have tried sloppy gardening before and found that it made me feel frazzled, so now I have order in my plot. My garden looks very much like this:
But...a bit bigger. I don't keep things in super straight rows, I just try to put them in their own little groups. I surround my garden with marigolds to keep the critters away and they really do work. Plus, I always plant a big section of lettuce and I leave it open for those pesky bunnies so that they can feel all rebellious as if they are raiding my garden. Makes Peter Rabbit feel as if he as outwitted Mr. McGregor....
Now all the plants are sitting their spaces, smiling happily. Our other flowers are just coming back to life. My lilac bushes, lilies of the valley, and peonies are starting up. Soon, the whole yard will smell like lilacs and lilies. I will go sit outside on summery nights and just take big deep breaths of the scent. The roses are blooming, as are the bachelor's buttons, bleeding hearts, bells of Ireland, poppies, sunflowers, daisies and calla lilies.
I feel energized. This happens every year. I sigh and think of all the work and then...suddenly everything is in the ground and I feel this..rush slide around in my veins. It's as if I'm connected to the life force in our yard and I feel their happiness to finally get out of their tiny little pots and be able to spread out in the garden.
After all was done, I stood smiling over the garden, the dripping hose in my hand. I felt Liv come up behind me and put her arms around me, her chin on my head. I laughed.
"I used to do that this to you and now the tables are turned!" I told her.
I felt her smile. "I know, you are such a shrimp...."
It felt nice standing in the sun with my daughter's arms around me, seeing my partner cleaning all the tools with her bucket of water just to the side of us.
Liv sighed. But, it was a happy sigh. She has inherited my love of gardening, handed down from my Da and his grandmother. My Da could make anything grow. He could stoop down and feel the loaminess of the soil and tell what amount of acidity it held, how rich it was, what would grow well in it. He taught me so much and I have passed it down to Liv.
Maybe she'll pass it on to her child or children.
She tells me that she wants to live where she can garden every year, that being outside and yes, even weeding, is cathartic.
"I sort of think all my deepest thoughts out here," she said.
I know exactly what she means.
I feel life under my feet, under my hands as I weed and prune, sort and stroke. As I set our hoses with the pin holes in them to water every few days if Mother Nature doesn't supply the rain.
I LOVE the first salad of the year that is made exclusively from our garden. Someday, I will be too old to do this and I dread it. Already, my RA causes me to be stiff and achy if I crouch too long.
But, I can't imagine not having my garden, not laying outside under our oak tree on hot summer nights singing to the vegetables, herbs and flowers. Feeling them sway with our voices.
I feel them growing in my veins, I swear it.
I thought it would be too hard this year, but like every year, I was proven wrong. I feel energized by these tiny shoots of life. The sheer joy that emanates from them and spills into me.
I swear that I will have a garden every year until my last year on earth. I will have my hands deep in the deep black prairie soil, coaxing roots to take hold. To stand up tall and let the sun bake them gently, sleepily and the rain cool them and sustain them.
The life in my garden brings life into me.
It was the best day. And I didn't burn. I wore my wide brimmed hat, the one that Bing says makes me look like a Southern belle. The one that Liv says makes me look like a little old lady.
I always end up taking it off halfway through, wanting to feel the sun on the top of my head. I refuse to use the gardening gloves that Bing bought for me. I need to FEEL the soil.
If I were a hippie, I would call it being one with the land.
Instead I will just say that my garden makes me hopeful for the future and happy for today. Eager to watch something bloom under my touch. Feel magic in the soil, in my fingers, in myself.
Tonight is quiet. Liv is at a graduation party and then will sleep over at her friend, Cynthia's house. Cyn is the middle child of 9 kids...ALL the rest of her siblings are brothers. She comes over to our house and sinks into the peace. Liv goes over to her home and revels in the chaos.
Liv will come home tomorrow, sleepy from not much sleep and ready to be back into the quiet of our home, our garden. We will go out at night, arms around each others waist and watch Socks try to catch that black squirrel that is a thorn in his side. We'll smile at the garden and maybe lay down to sing to the vegetables. When Liv was little, I had her believing that our singing was soothing to them, our good night song to them.
Now, she is older but concedes that she still needs to believe that they are listening to us.
I need it too. And this year, I badly need to watch something grow and bloom. I want it to be catching, bring me back from all my fatigue and deep bone pain.
I want to bloom like they do.
Friday, May 17, 2013
That pitcher has some guns....
My daughter is a pitcher/3rd base player for her softball team.
She pitches left handed and fast. A double whammy.
She wanted to go to a pitcher's training camp to learn more, so one of her Christmas gifts was a gift certificate to get fast pitch lessons.
At her first lesson, her coach, Mandy, told us that she thought she could do something with Liv. Surprisingly, she only picked four out of over 20 hopeful pitchers to coach. The others were given to her helpers. Liv was the first one she picked.
"I like her height, I liked her left handedness, I like her speed and I will work with her on her gait." She called it "the Superman' technique. Liv caught on fast.
She still goes once a week to work with Mandy.
I am not a softball expert. I didn't even know what a bunt was until a few weeks ago.
What I notice is Liv's fearlessness. She looks joyous when she runs out to the mound, like she is just itching to do this thang.
Mandy has told her that she needs to work on looking more intimidating at the mound.
"You look like you're selling cotton candy!" she teased. "You need to look at them like you're a lion and they're a little bleating goat."
That made me burst out laughing.
Liv practices diligently and has worked so hard.
So, tonight, Bing and I sat in the stands, watching our girl send those balls flying over the plate. Doing her superman routine.
An older grandfather was in the stands. I don't think he knew that we were Liv's parents.
"Lookee there!" he said to his wife. "Now, that girl is one tall drink of water and boy...she has some guns on her!"
I looked over at Bing, shocked. Did he just comment on our DAUGHTER'S breasts?! But, Bing was grinning foolishly. I glared at her. She frowned. Leaned in to whisper to me, ask what the matter was.
"That old pervert was commenting on OUR DAUGHTER'S breasts!" I whispered back, mad as a wet hen.
Bing burst out laughing.
"Honey, he said she had guns. Guns are MUSCLES."
I sat back, mollified. And looked carefully at Liv in her sleeveless shirt.
Wow. She IS getting some guns.
Holy shit. She also has a farmer's tan. But...wow....all that practice.
My baby has some...guns on her.
I wonder what's next?
She pitches left handed and fast. A double whammy.
She wanted to go to a pitcher's training camp to learn more, so one of her Christmas gifts was a gift certificate to get fast pitch lessons.
At her first lesson, her coach, Mandy, told us that she thought she could do something with Liv. Surprisingly, she only picked four out of over 20 hopeful pitchers to coach. The others were given to her helpers. Liv was the first one she picked.
"I like her height, I liked her left handedness, I like her speed and I will work with her on her gait." She called it "the Superman' technique. Liv caught on fast.
She still goes once a week to work with Mandy.
I am not a softball expert. I didn't even know what a bunt was until a few weeks ago.
What I notice is Liv's fearlessness. She looks joyous when she runs out to the mound, like she is just itching to do this thang.
Mandy has told her that she needs to work on looking more intimidating at the mound.
"You look like you're selling cotton candy!" she teased. "You need to look at them like you're a lion and they're a little bleating goat."
That made me burst out laughing.
Liv practices diligently and has worked so hard.
So, tonight, Bing and I sat in the stands, watching our girl send those balls flying over the plate. Doing her superman routine.
An older grandfather was in the stands. I don't think he knew that we were Liv's parents.
"Lookee there!" he said to his wife. "Now, that girl is one tall drink of water and boy...she has some guns on her!"
I looked over at Bing, shocked. Did he just comment on our DAUGHTER'S breasts?! But, Bing was grinning foolishly. I glared at her. She frowned. Leaned in to whisper to me, ask what the matter was.
"That old pervert was commenting on OUR DAUGHTER'S breasts!" I whispered back, mad as a wet hen.
Bing burst out laughing.
"Honey, he said she had guns. Guns are MUSCLES."
I sat back, mollified. And looked carefully at Liv in her sleeveless shirt.
Wow. She IS getting some guns.
Holy shit. She also has a farmer's tan. But...wow....all that practice.
My baby has some...guns on her.
I wonder what's next?
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Liv graduates
Her dress:
This one.
She looked beautiful. Graduated with highest honors, top student in Math.
That's our girl.
She is now at the after graduation dance. Hair down her back instead of in her traditional braid.
I can't believe that she is a freshman.
In the car, on the way there, I turned around to take her in.
Said, "Do you remember when I took you to pre-school when you were three and you cried so hard that they sent you home? They told me that you broke the school record for crying."
Liv: I remember that. I threw up in the teacher's hands. Mother. Please, don't cry. PLEASE.
I turned back around, dabbed my eyes. Bing put her hand on mine, squeezed.
She got out of the car and ran in to take her place. Bing and I walked into the church where her graduation was to be. We joke every time that we worry that we might burn up as we walk over the threshold, all that Catholic righteousness.
And then there she was. In her simple dress, her hair shining down her back. Her jack o lantern smile the same as it was in kindergarten.
I didn't cry. Well, I cried on the inside. And then went and ate praline cupcakes with the rest of the parents. Joked about this prairie weather. Snow ten days ago. And then it hit 102 degrees yesterday.
Then it was time for the parents to leave and the kids to stay for the dance.
One of her friend's parents will bring her home. I hope to be awake. I hope she comes in to talk, sits on my bed. But. She's nearly 14. It's more likely that she will go in her room and talk to one of her friends, re-hash the dance.
Tomorrow is another soccer game. And then she has softball games all weekend. She will be in her uniform with her hair pulled back in a braid down her back again. Her visor on. She's been working on her intimidating pitcher's stare since her coach said she looked too friendly on that pitcher's mound.
She'll be sliding into those bases. And my little jock will be back in the house.
But, tonight...in her pretty dress and vulnerable smile...
I saw my Da when she ducked her head and smiled. I saw her Father's eyes. Bing says her laugh is eerily like mine.
But...me? I just see my baby. Crying at pre-school, me carrying her back to the car as she locked her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck, burying her face in my hair.
From there to ....here.
Just.
Wow.
This one.
She looked beautiful. Graduated with highest honors, top student in Math.
That's our girl.
She is now at the after graduation dance. Hair down her back instead of in her traditional braid.
I can't believe that she is a freshman.
In the car, on the way there, I turned around to take her in.
Said, "Do you remember when I took you to pre-school when you were three and you cried so hard that they sent you home? They told me that you broke the school record for crying."
Liv: I remember that. I threw up in the teacher's hands. Mother. Please, don't cry. PLEASE.
I turned back around, dabbed my eyes. Bing put her hand on mine, squeezed.
She got out of the car and ran in to take her place. Bing and I walked into the church where her graduation was to be. We joke every time that we worry that we might burn up as we walk over the threshold, all that Catholic righteousness.
And then there she was. In her simple dress, her hair shining down her back. Her jack o lantern smile the same as it was in kindergarten.
I didn't cry. Well, I cried on the inside. And then went and ate praline cupcakes with the rest of the parents. Joked about this prairie weather. Snow ten days ago. And then it hit 102 degrees yesterday.
Then it was time for the parents to leave and the kids to stay for the dance.
One of her friend's parents will bring her home. I hope to be awake. I hope she comes in to talk, sits on my bed. But. She's nearly 14. It's more likely that she will go in her room and talk to one of her friends, re-hash the dance.
Tomorrow is another soccer game. And then she has softball games all weekend. She will be in her uniform with her hair pulled back in a braid down her back again. Her visor on. She's been working on her intimidating pitcher's stare since her coach said she looked too friendly on that pitcher's mound.
She'll be sliding into those bases. And my little jock will be back in the house.
But, tonight...in her pretty dress and vulnerable smile...
I saw my Da when she ducked her head and smiled. I saw her Father's eyes. Bing says her laugh is eerily like mine.
But...me? I just see my baby. Crying at pre-school, me carrying her back to the car as she locked her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck, burying her face in my hair.
From there to ....here.
Just.
Wow.
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
Progression
Liv
Age 1: I love you, love you, love you. Milk! Milk time! There's the lady with the milk!
Age 2: I am obsessed with you. I don't want anyone else to hold me. Only you. I want all your attention 24-7.
Age 3: Why did you take me there? I don't WANNA be with other kids, especially if you aren't there. I'm scared! I'm just going to go over there on that slide. Watch me go down, okay? I need you in my sight at all time.
Age 4: I don't like this place much, but I'll give it a try. But can you see it all over my face when you come to pick me up? I missed you! I love you! YAY! It's just us tonight. Me and you, hip to hip. Read me a story. Take me to the park. Color with me. Can we bake a cake for Charley?(imaginary lion friend)
Age 5:I can't believe how interesting the world is! I LOVE my friends at kindergarten. Can Constance come over for a play date? We can fill up the bathtub and play Barbie goes to the Olympics. Have diving contests.
Age 6: Wow. This staying ALL day long at school is wearying. But, I love learning. Did you know that spiders ALL have eight legs? Can I go over to Constance's after school today for a play date? Her mom will take us to the park and we can play that we are cave people.
Age 7:I want braids. Only braids. What's for dinner? I don't like eggplant! Can you at least put cheese on it? I only like chunky peanut butter. Why did you make my sandwich with creamy? Mama, you are so beautiful. I hope I look just like you when I grow up.
Age 8: Can you read this story that I wrote? It's about a space family who live on Mars and they drive around in circle cars! I think that purple is the best color in the world. I only want to wear purple clothes for the rest of my life! You are the smartest, most beautiful Mama in the entire world.
Age 9: Who knew that math could be this fun? I'm really nervous about my piano recital. Will you sit in the front row? Get there really early because there are a lot of kids. I need to see you smiling at me and nodding. Did I do okay? Were you so proud of me? I love you! Can we stop for a Dairy Queen blizzard on the way home? And then read Harry Potter together?
Age 10: I don't know about this. A sleepover? All the girls will be there, but I don't like being away from you over night. I feel like a baby, but I'm scared!
Age 11: Can I sleep over at Constance's house tonight and then she can sleep over at our house tomorrow night? I love Constance. I love math. I love Socks. I love playing all sports. Mama, I am so fast! Can you see how fast I am? Can Costance come over? Mama, it isn't called a PLAY DATE anymore. JEEZ! I love you!
Age 12: I really don't see the fuss over that Bieber kid. And why does Constance keep talking about boys and how cute they are? Boys are fun to ride bikes with and play basketball, but kissing them? Who even thinks about that stuff? It's GROSS. Can I wear that yellow shirt in your closet?
Age 13: Are you going to wear THAT? Why? I love string theory. I love how things all follow a sequence in math. Everything works out. Why didn't any of the boys ask me to dance? I'm ugly, aren't I? Can you listen to the story that I picked for speech class? What do you mean "speak up"? I AM speaking up. Mother, I'm trying to write in my journal, please give me some privacy. Mama? Can I come in and read my book in bed with you. I know I'm probably too old, but I had a really hard day. Why are other girls so mean? How soon can I leave to go with Dad on vacation? Will you be okay without me?
Age 1: I love you, love you, love you. Milk! Milk time! There's the lady with the milk!
Age 2: I am obsessed with you. I don't want anyone else to hold me. Only you. I want all your attention 24-7.
Age 3: Why did you take me there? I don't WANNA be with other kids, especially if you aren't there. I'm scared! I'm just going to go over there on that slide. Watch me go down, okay? I need you in my sight at all time.
Age 4: I don't like this place much, but I'll give it a try. But can you see it all over my face when you come to pick me up? I missed you! I love you! YAY! It's just us tonight. Me and you, hip to hip. Read me a story. Take me to the park. Color with me. Can we bake a cake for Charley?(imaginary lion friend)
Age 5:I can't believe how interesting the world is! I LOVE my friends at kindergarten. Can Constance come over for a play date? We can fill up the bathtub and play Barbie goes to the Olympics. Have diving contests.
Age 6: Wow. This staying ALL day long at school is wearying. But, I love learning. Did you know that spiders ALL have eight legs? Can I go over to Constance's after school today for a play date? Her mom will take us to the park and we can play that we are cave people.
Age 7:I want braids. Only braids. What's for dinner? I don't like eggplant! Can you at least put cheese on it? I only like chunky peanut butter. Why did you make my sandwich with creamy? Mama, you are so beautiful. I hope I look just like you when I grow up.
Age 8: Can you read this story that I wrote? It's about a space family who live on Mars and they drive around in circle cars! I think that purple is the best color in the world. I only want to wear purple clothes for the rest of my life! You are the smartest, most beautiful Mama in the entire world.
Age 9: Who knew that math could be this fun? I'm really nervous about my piano recital. Will you sit in the front row? Get there really early because there are a lot of kids. I need to see you smiling at me and nodding. Did I do okay? Were you so proud of me? I love you! Can we stop for a Dairy Queen blizzard on the way home? And then read Harry Potter together?
Age 10: I don't know about this. A sleepover? All the girls will be there, but I don't like being away from you over night. I feel like a baby, but I'm scared!
Age 11: Can I sleep over at Constance's house tonight and then she can sleep over at our house tomorrow night? I love Constance. I love math. I love Socks. I love playing all sports. Mama, I am so fast! Can you see how fast I am? Can Costance come over? Mama, it isn't called a PLAY DATE anymore. JEEZ! I love you!
Age 12: I really don't see the fuss over that Bieber kid. And why does Constance keep talking about boys and how cute they are? Boys are fun to ride bikes with and play basketball, but kissing them? Who even thinks about that stuff? It's GROSS. Can I wear that yellow shirt in your closet?
Age 13: Are you going to wear THAT? Why? I love string theory. I love how things all follow a sequence in math. Everything works out. Why didn't any of the boys ask me to dance? I'm ugly, aren't I? Can you listen to the story that I picked for speech class? What do you mean "speak up"? I AM speaking up. Mother, I'm trying to write in my journal, please give me some privacy. Mama? Can I come in and read my book in bed with you. I know I'm probably too old, but I had a really hard day. Why are other girls so mean? How soon can I leave to go with Dad on vacation? Will you be okay without me?
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Did you see this on SNL?
I laughed so hard that I fell off of the couch. No kidding. Liv was up watching with me and she said, "Is this what I have to look forward to?"
Oh, honey...I hope so.
Payback for that time in Target when you pointed to a rather hefty woman and said, "Why is she so fat?"
For colic. I realize that you were only 1 month to 4 months, but those 3 months were the most hellish of my life.
For all the times you promised to clean your room and didn't.
I believe you just might have this coming, sweetie pie....
Oh, honey...I hope so.
Payback for that time in Target when you pointed to a rather hefty woman and said, "Why is she so fat?"
For colic. I realize that you were only 1 month to 4 months, but those 3 months were the most hellish of my life.
For all the times you promised to clean your room and didn't.
I believe you just might have this coming, sweetie pie....
Saturday, May 11, 2013
8 years ago....
I have always kept a journal. I know, I know...you're thinking, Isn't it bad enough that she writes these long tomes in her blog, but she has a JOURNAL too???? And the weird thing is, a lot of my life doesn't make it into my blog, but very little escapes my journal.
I just write. It gets the steam out of my head, the worries off my plate, keeps the happiness in my heart. Almost every night, right before bed, I write a page or two in my journal about how my day went. Maybe they'll end up in the trash. Maybe Liv will keep them, along with this blog, as a keepsake. Maybe they'll be published (along with this blog) when I am long gone and others will read the story about this flawed teenager (I've been keeping journals since I was 13!), who turned into a rebel daughter, a party hearty twenty something, a crazy in love and then crazy out of love lover, a successful but unhappy career woman, a mother totally bewildered and beguiled by her daughter, and finally, a lover to the one who almost got away.
Yeah, probably the trash.
So, anyway, I was paging through the 2005-06 notebook (I don't keep leather bound journals, they are simple notebooks from Walgreens...) and went back to exactly 8 years ago when Liv was in first grade. I was working at a job that I had worked at part time while raising Liv til 1st grade, but then I had built it up to a full time job. I was a jury consultant. Yep. I got paid for scoping out you people who did not want to go to jury duty but had to and it was me who helped the attorney pick you to sit on the jury. This might sound braggy, but I was pretty well known, worked a lot. I was known as a good reader, someone who could tell whether you might be prone to vote for our side. I eventually tired of this and went on to another job, but this one was good because it was pretty flexible. I could pick and choose my work around Liv's schedule. Bing was still kind of a newcomer into our lives. She had been living with us for several months, but she was more Liv's buddy and less Liv's other parent. Liv was attending a very small, very green, very liberal Montessori school. Her 1st grade class consisted of six other girls. These six girls would be Liv's besties all through 6th grade and then they scattered to the wind for junior high. She rarely sees any of them anymore.
I give a title to each journal page and this one was called A Day in the Life of Mama.
It reads:
"Really long day. I had a busy day planned with back to back consults, 2 in the morning and 1 in the afternoon. I would have to hope we slogged through it quickly so that I could pick up Liv at school on time. So, Liv suddenly remembers as she is getting out of bed that today is "summer birthday girl day." Miss Josie (teacher) has decided that Liv and Constance, the only girls with summer birthdays, can bring treats today. Liv promised to bring cupcakes, Constance to bring lemonade. Leave it to Constance to pick the easy treat. Leave it to Liv to forget to tell me until this morning. Oh well, I thought, we'd just have to leave a little early and I would stop at that overpriced bakery on the way to school. The other mothers already see me as that fake Mom who never bakes, why change it up now?
As I was trying to steer Liv towards wearing something other than overalls and cowboy boots to school, she suddenly remembered that birthday girls always wore something "dressy uppy." Done! She chose her yellow sundress with the big green frog pockets, one of my favorites. I left her to finish dressing and got her oatmeal made. When she came down the stairs, I had to smile. She was wearing that cute dress, allright...but...with cowboy boots. I asked her if maybe she wouldn't prefer to wear her brand new yellow patent leather shoes? No, she said. I sighed. Pick your battles on the big things, I thought. But then as she ate her oatmeal, she informed me that it was also "crazy hair" day today. Could I give her eight braids? She wanted it to look like a spider and did I know that spiders ALL have eight legs? I did know that, I told her. Inwardly, I groaned. EIGHT braids? I hate doing even one.
Eight braids later, she looked good enough to weave a web. And I did them all perfectly. Who'da thunk it? I smiled at her as she stood in front of me looking at herself in the mirror. Told her that she looked just like Pippi Longstocking. Who was Pippi Longstocking? She wanted to know. I told her that when I picked her up from school, we'd stop at the library and pick up a copy and read it together. And then, of course, because we are ALWAYS late and had to stop at the goddamned bakery, we went flying out of the house together like we always do. She with her Beatles book bag, braids flying. Me with my briefcase bumping against my knees, slightly wobbling on those stiletto heels that I have no business wearing but I can't help it...I am vain about my legs and I LOVE them and they look PERFECT with my blue Chanel suit. Too bad Bing is in New Orleans this week. She would have appreciated my gams. Reminder to self: talk to Liv about how she feels about Bing living with us. She's inched in little by little, but Liv isn't stupid. She knows that we have an addition to our little family. She seems fine, but? Must be careful with her feelings.
We stopped at the bakery and of course, she took FOREVER picking out the seven cupcakes for her class. She wanted them each to be different, but none more flashy than the others. Equality is very important to a 6 year old. And then, as we got back into the car, I heard her soft voice whisper, "Mama? We have to go back home." I looked at her in the rear view mirror. WHY???
"I forgot to put on underpants."
Oh. Well. Now. Okay. So, yes, no one was surprised to see us flying in the school doors. Late again. After I kissed her goodbye and commented on every other girl's funny silly hair, I noticed Miss Josie doing a double take when she took the cupcakes out of my hands. I felt a little troubled. Were those stilettos just a bit too much? Probably. Oh well.
I got back in the car and went to re-apply my Cherries in the Snow lipstick by pulling down the vanity mirror on the visor. And I burst out laughing. I ran out of blush a few days ago, so have been using the lipstick as a temporary blush. I just put a small slash on each cheek and rub it in. Except today. I had somehow forgotten in our mad morning rush to rub the slash marks in. THAT was what Miss Josie was gawking at. I had two red swipes across my cheeks.
So..what else is new? I have worn my pajamas occasionally when I take Liv to school and we are late and I don't have an early appointment. Once, I let her put some barrettes in my hair that morning and forgot to take them out when I took her to school. I arrived with six butterfly barrettes in my hair. I have even worn two different shoes before, one black and one dark blue. It was DARK that morning and it is an easy mistake!
So, the day flew by. I was able to pick Liv up on time, so no stink eye from Miss Josie. I asked Liv what she learned at school and she informed me that they had a health lesson and learned that their poop should come out of their butts like divers off a diving board. 'Miss Josie actually said that our FECES should come out of our BOTTOMS, though...I did not laugh but I wanted to SO BAD, Mama!' I agreed that it was pretty funny and we both chuckled and then it turned into a full fledged hoot with both of us. So, this is what I pay that hefty tuition for! When we stopped at the library to pick up The Adventures Of Pippi Longstocking, my mascara had run, making me look like a raccoon mother. It was so pretty outside, that after we got home and changed into our jeans (me) and overalls (her), we took a blanket out to the back yard and read the first three chapters of Pippi. Liv kept finding dandelions and tucking them into her eight braids and my one. It was a sweet late afternoon made better by two happy meals from McDonalds for supper.
Bing comes home in two days. I've surprised myself by missing her. I don't miss lovers. I never have. I just don't let myself get that attached. Not since Cory. But, I seem to have no defenses left with Bing. My heart wants what it wants and it wants HER. In fact, right now, my body aches for her touch. I told her that when she called after I put Liv to bed and she groaned. I love torturing her this way. I'm truly, madly, deeply in love.
I hope this beautiful weather holds. I'm itching to get my garden in. Liv and I went down to the basement tonight to peek at the tiny sprouts. Maybe this weekend?"
End of entry
So...yeah. That was my life eight years ago. Not all that different from what it is now. Except that Liv is now 13 (almost 14) and I no longer have to braid her hair. And she is less forgetful. But, the mornings are still rushed. And we always seem to forget something, but not ever our underpants!
I thought about this as I waited in the car for Liv to get out of school a few days ago. And then, there she was, flying to the car in her blue and gray uniform, her Bob Dylan book bag slung over her shoulder, munching on a leftover apple from her lunch. She climbed in the car and said, "Can we stop at Starbucks so that I can get a green tea latte and a muffin? My stomach is in knots and it's the only thing that sounds good for dinner. I'm pitching tonight, so I want to get there early to practice, okay?"
I said okay. Headed to Starbucks. Bing would not be pleased with this dinner, but she'd just have to deal with it. On a whim, I asked Liv, "Do you remember when we read Pippi Longstocking for the first time?" She smiled.
"I do! I remember that we stopped at the library to get it after school and that you read it to me on a blanket in the back yard. I kept weaving dandelions in our hair and I was perfectly happy. I knew that I had the most beautiful, perfect Mama and that she was crazy about me and I about her....."
I choked up. I NEVER cry. Except about Liv. She is the one topic, the one person who can bring me to my knees.
She looked over at me and saw my predicament. She leaned over to hug me.
"Mama? I love you. I'm so lucky. You're the perfect Mother for me. I have such incredible memories of my childhood. Thank you so much for letting Dad come back to us and see me. Thank you for always having my back. I don't know that I would want to be in a world with no you....And let's read Pippi again together, wanna?"
Well, Happy Mother's Day to me, huh?
I often look at Liv and see bits of my Da. She looks very little like him. She has her Aunt Celia's dark blonde hair, her Father's dark brown eyes and her skin is a mix of my peaches and cream Irish stock and her Father's full blood Lakota, kind of olive tinted. She doesn't have Tinton's cafe au lait coloring nor my lily white tint. She is a mix of us. She is quite tall and neither one of us know quite where this comes from as I am barely five feet and Tinton is only 5'10". She has her paternal Aunt's wide Carly Simon smile. She is extremely athletic, another puzzle. None of my ancestors nor Tinton's have been known for their athletic prowess.
But, sometimes, when she is pondering something, thinking hard, concentrating with all her might, I see my Da's face as he would look out at the crops he'd planted. And Liv smiles and ducks her head when she blushes, another trait of his. Whenever this happens, my heart jolts forward and I feel my Da all around me. I feel his Irish brogue, his merry laugh, the way he would hold out his arm and let me swing on it. I feel him close to me. I always hoped that I could be half the parent that he was to me. He was unswervingly patient, kind even when provoked, and he would pull out his guitar and sing to me about Molly Malone.
"In Dublin's fair city, where the girls are so pretty
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone...."
He'd chuck me on the chin at the word pretty and smile at me, his beautiful blue eyes crinkling.
I loved my Da with every morsel of my being. And even though I lost him before I was a decade old, his presence still reverberates inside of me. Most of my parenting is based on his. I never ask myself What would Jesus do? I ask myself What would my Da do? and it never steers me wrong.
I hope that Liv carries goodness from me in her. I hope that when I am no longer here to guide her, to be with her, that she feels my presence, my saving grace, my always abiding love for her. I want her to tell her children about me and sigh the way that I do when I tell her about her Grandpa Jack. But, given the choice, I'd much rather MEET my grandchildren. If she has them. And for some reason, I sense that she will be a Mother some day. I just feel it in my bones.
I want her to have that memory, to savor it, of the day that we sat outside on the soft red blanket in the fading late day sunshine and I cracked open the spine of The Adventures of Pippi Longstocking.
I want her to hear my voice in her mind and feel my love in her veins.
Way at the end of a tiny little town was an old overgrown garden, and in the garden was an old house, and in the house lived Pippi Longstocking. She was nine years old, and she lived there all alone. She had no mother and no father, and that was of course very nice because there was no one to tell her to go to bed just when she was having the most fun, and no one who could make her take cod liver oil when she much preferred caramel candy...........
One live begats another life, begats another. And we all can live on and on.
I just write. It gets the steam out of my head, the worries off my plate, keeps the happiness in my heart. Almost every night, right before bed, I write a page or two in my journal about how my day went. Maybe they'll end up in the trash. Maybe Liv will keep them, along with this blog, as a keepsake. Maybe they'll be published (along with this blog) when I am long gone and others will read the story about this flawed teenager (I've been keeping journals since I was 13!), who turned into a rebel daughter, a party hearty twenty something, a crazy in love and then crazy out of love lover, a successful but unhappy career woman, a mother totally bewildered and beguiled by her daughter, and finally, a lover to the one who almost got away.
Yeah, probably the trash.
So, anyway, I was paging through the 2005-06 notebook (I don't keep leather bound journals, they are simple notebooks from Walgreens...) and went back to exactly 8 years ago when Liv was in first grade. I was working at a job that I had worked at part time while raising Liv til 1st grade, but then I had built it up to a full time job. I was a jury consultant. Yep. I got paid for scoping out you people who did not want to go to jury duty but had to and it was me who helped the attorney pick you to sit on the jury. This might sound braggy, but I was pretty well known, worked a lot. I was known as a good reader, someone who could tell whether you might be prone to vote for our side. I eventually tired of this and went on to another job, but this one was good because it was pretty flexible. I could pick and choose my work around Liv's schedule. Bing was still kind of a newcomer into our lives. She had been living with us for several months, but she was more Liv's buddy and less Liv's other parent. Liv was attending a very small, very green, very liberal Montessori school. Her 1st grade class consisted of six other girls. These six girls would be Liv's besties all through 6th grade and then they scattered to the wind for junior high. She rarely sees any of them anymore.
I give a title to each journal page and this one was called A Day in the Life of Mama.
It reads:
"Really long day. I had a busy day planned with back to back consults, 2 in the morning and 1 in the afternoon. I would have to hope we slogged through it quickly so that I could pick up Liv at school on time. So, Liv suddenly remembers as she is getting out of bed that today is "summer birthday girl day." Miss Josie (teacher) has decided that Liv and Constance, the only girls with summer birthdays, can bring treats today. Liv promised to bring cupcakes, Constance to bring lemonade. Leave it to Constance to pick the easy treat. Leave it to Liv to forget to tell me until this morning. Oh well, I thought, we'd just have to leave a little early and I would stop at that overpriced bakery on the way to school. The other mothers already see me as that fake Mom who never bakes, why change it up now?
As I was trying to steer Liv towards wearing something other than overalls and cowboy boots to school, she suddenly remembered that birthday girls always wore something "dressy uppy." Done! She chose her yellow sundress with the big green frog pockets, one of my favorites. I left her to finish dressing and got her oatmeal made. When she came down the stairs, I had to smile. She was wearing that cute dress, allright...but...with cowboy boots. I asked her if maybe she wouldn't prefer to wear her brand new yellow patent leather shoes? No, she said. I sighed. Pick your battles on the big things, I thought. But then as she ate her oatmeal, she informed me that it was also "crazy hair" day today. Could I give her eight braids? She wanted it to look like a spider and did I know that spiders ALL have eight legs? I did know that, I told her. Inwardly, I groaned. EIGHT braids? I hate doing even one.
Eight braids later, she looked good enough to weave a web. And I did them all perfectly. Who'da thunk it? I smiled at her as she stood in front of me looking at herself in the mirror. Told her that she looked just like Pippi Longstocking. Who was Pippi Longstocking? She wanted to know. I told her that when I picked her up from school, we'd stop at the library and pick up a copy and read it together. And then, of course, because we are ALWAYS late and had to stop at the goddamned bakery, we went flying out of the house together like we always do. She with her Beatles book bag, braids flying. Me with my briefcase bumping against my knees, slightly wobbling on those stiletto heels that I have no business wearing but I can't help it...I am vain about my legs and I LOVE them and they look PERFECT with my blue Chanel suit. Too bad Bing is in New Orleans this week. She would have appreciated my gams. Reminder to self: talk to Liv about how she feels about Bing living with us. She's inched in little by little, but Liv isn't stupid. She knows that we have an addition to our little family. She seems fine, but? Must be careful with her feelings.
We stopped at the bakery and of course, she took FOREVER picking out the seven cupcakes for her class. She wanted them each to be different, but none more flashy than the others. Equality is very important to a 6 year old. And then, as we got back into the car, I heard her soft voice whisper, "Mama? We have to go back home." I looked at her in the rear view mirror. WHY???
"I forgot to put on underpants."
Oh. Well. Now. Okay. So, yes, no one was surprised to see us flying in the school doors. Late again. After I kissed her goodbye and commented on every other girl's funny silly hair, I noticed Miss Josie doing a double take when she took the cupcakes out of my hands. I felt a little troubled. Were those stilettos just a bit too much? Probably. Oh well.
I got back in the car and went to re-apply my Cherries in the Snow lipstick by pulling down the vanity mirror on the visor. And I burst out laughing. I ran out of blush a few days ago, so have been using the lipstick as a temporary blush. I just put a small slash on each cheek and rub it in. Except today. I had somehow forgotten in our mad morning rush to rub the slash marks in. THAT was what Miss Josie was gawking at. I had two red swipes across my cheeks.
So..what else is new? I have worn my pajamas occasionally when I take Liv to school and we are late and I don't have an early appointment. Once, I let her put some barrettes in my hair that morning and forgot to take them out when I took her to school. I arrived with six butterfly barrettes in my hair. I have even worn two different shoes before, one black and one dark blue. It was DARK that morning and it is an easy mistake!
So, the day flew by. I was able to pick Liv up on time, so no stink eye from Miss Josie. I asked Liv what she learned at school and she informed me that they had a health lesson and learned that their poop should come out of their butts like divers off a diving board. 'Miss Josie actually said that our FECES should come out of our BOTTOMS, though...I did not laugh but I wanted to SO BAD, Mama!' I agreed that it was pretty funny and we both chuckled and then it turned into a full fledged hoot with both of us. So, this is what I pay that hefty tuition for! When we stopped at the library to pick up The Adventures Of Pippi Longstocking, my mascara had run, making me look like a raccoon mother. It was so pretty outside, that after we got home and changed into our jeans (me) and overalls (her), we took a blanket out to the back yard and read the first three chapters of Pippi. Liv kept finding dandelions and tucking them into her eight braids and my one. It was a sweet late afternoon made better by two happy meals from McDonalds for supper.
Bing comes home in two days. I've surprised myself by missing her. I don't miss lovers. I never have. I just don't let myself get that attached. Not since Cory. But, I seem to have no defenses left with Bing. My heart wants what it wants and it wants HER. In fact, right now, my body aches for her touch. I told her that when she called after I put Liv to bed and she groaned. I love torturing her this way. I'm truly, madly, deeply in love.
I hope this beautiful weather holds. I'm itching to get my garden in. Liv and I went down to the basement tonight to peek at the tiny sprouts. Maybe this weekend?"
End of entry
So...yeah. That was my life eight years ago. Not all that different from what it is now. Except that Liv is now 13 (almost 14) and I no longer have to braid her hair. And she is less forgetful. But, the mornings are still rushed. And we always seem to forget something, but not ever our underpants!
I thought about this as I waited in the car for Liv to get out of school a few days ago. And then, there she was, flying to the car in her blue and gray uniform, her Bob Dylan book bag slung over her shoulder, munching on a leftover apple from her lunch. She climbed in the car and said, "Can we stop at Starbucks so that I can get a green tea latte and a muffin? My stomach is in knots and it's the only thing that sounds good for dinner. I'm pitching tonight, so I want to get there early to practice, okay?"
I said okay. Headed to Starbucks. Bing would not be pleased with this dinner, but she'd just have to deal with it. On a whim, I asked Liv, "Do you remember when we read Pippi Longstocking for the first time?" She smiled.
"I do! I remember that we stopped at the library to get it after school and that you read it to me on a blanket in the back yard. I kept weaving dandelions in our hair and I was perfectly happy. I knew that I had the most beautiful, perfect Mama and that she was crazy about me and I about her....."
I choked up. I NEVER cry. Except about Liv. She is the one topic, the one person who can bring me to my knees.
She looked over at me and saw my predicament. She leaned over to hug me.
"Mama? I love you. I'm so lucky. You're the perfect Mother for me. I have such incredible memories of my childhood. Thank you so much for letting Dad come back to us and see me. Thank you for always having my back. I don't know that I would want to be in a world with no you....And let's read Pippi again together, wanna?"
Well, Happy Mother's Day to me, huh?
I often look at Liv and see bits of my Da. She looks very little like him. She has her Aunt Celia's dark blonde hair, her Father's dark brown eyes and her skin is a mix of my peaches and cream Irish stock and her Father's full blood Lakota, kind of olive tinted. She doesn't have Tinton's cafe au lait coloring nor my lily white tint. She is a mix of us. She is quite tall and neither one of us know quite where this comes from as I am barely five feet and Tinton is only 5'10". She has her paternal Aunt's wide Carly Simon smile. She is extremely athletic, another puzzle. None of my ancestors nor Tinton's have been known for their athletic prowess.
But, sometimes, when she is pondering something, thinking hard, concentrating with all her might, I see my Da's face as he would look out at the crops he'd planted. And Liv smiles and ducks her head when she blushes, another trait of his. Whenever this happens, my heart jolts forward and I feel my Da all around me. I feel his Irish brogue, his merry laugh, the way he would hold out his arm and let me swing on it. I feel him close to me. I always hoped that I could be half the parent that he was to me. He was unswervingly patient, kind even when provoked, and he would pull out his guitar and sing to me about Molly Malone.
"In Dublin's fair city, where the girls are so pretty
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone...."
He'd chuck me on the chin at the word pretty and smile at me, his beautiful blue eyes crinkling.
I loved my Da with every morsel of my being. And even though I lost him before I was a decade old, his presence still reverberates inside of me. Most of my parenting is based on his. I never ask myself What would Jesus do? I ask myself What would my Da do? and it never steers me wrong.
I hope that Liv carries goodness from me in her. I hope that when I am no longer here to guide her, to be with her, that she feels my presence, my saving grace, my always abiding love for her. I want her to tell her children about me and sigh the way that I do when I tell her about her Grandpa Jack. But, given the choice, I'd much rather MEET my grandchildren. If she has them. And for some reason, I sense that she will be a Mother some day. I just feel it in my bones.
I want her to have that memory, to savor it, of the day that we sat outside on the soft red blanket in the fading late day sunshine and I cracked open the spine of The Adventures of Pippi Longstocking.
I want her to hear my voice in her mind and feel my love in her veins.
Way at the end of a tiny little town was an old overgrown garden, and in the garden was an old house, and in the house lived Pippi Longstocking. She was nine years old, and she lived there all alone. She had no mother and no father, and that was of course very nice because there was no one to tell her to go to bed just when she was having the most fun, and no one who could make her take cod liver oil when she much preferred caramel candy...........
One live begats another life, begats another. And we all can live on and on.
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