Mem'ries

This is to my daughter:
Okay, so there are all the things that pass us by, and some things I don't want to.

Like yesterday, after you colored on your chair with marker after I told you not to, after I chased you around the house, after you cried when Daddy left for the store and cried when I wouldn't give your markers back, finally, you sat in my lap and we watched Elmo as I rubbed lotion on your little legs and feet. And then you went to your room without complaint, your hand holding onto my finger. And you stubbornly would not let me read you the book, but you read it to me. "Elmo, tree!" -- skip 5 pages -- "Elmo dance!" -- skip 7 pages -- "all done!" Pretty smart for an almost 2 year old.

And I don't want to forget the strange things you do... like biting yourself on the thigh at naptime yesterday... in a way we can't figure out how you got your mouth to.

And I don't want to forget you singing every word you know to the ABC song, and how you love the line "Up above the world so high" in Twinkle, Twinkle.

And I don't want to forget the feeling of carrying your sleepy little body, curled up on my shoulder, after you have just fallen asleep in the car... to the songs "Jump Around" and "Low Rider."

You are strange. You are funny. You so belong in our family. I love you.

Temptation

*Lead me not unto temptation*
Yeah... I was raised in a religious family, what can I say?

I was sorely tempted to get really pissed at whoever decided to eat or steal or dump my lunch for today. I really would rather eat the leftover Greek salad and leftover Kung Pao chicken instead of the greasy bagel with onion and tomato. I mean, I even left olives in the salad so I could have some more today! I'm trying to think charitably that maybe someone accidentally spilled them on the floor since they were in the front of the work fridge. I was taking deep breaths, debating on storming around the office and writing a passive agressive note to "whom it may concern" when I noticed my coworker's daughter -- 5 years old and quietly coloring in the break room. She was drawing "the part where Speed hits the ninja". She then told me to prepare for another stunning adventure of Speed Racer! And then she hummed the song to herself.

Now how can I be angry after that? (Dang greasy bagel and all.)

Alone

Some people look at being alone as a bad thing. “I’m so alone.” What I would give to have a minute of alone. I have been living with my family in one room of our house since May 9. We’re on about week 10 of a long building project, and for 9 of those weeks I’ve been in one room with my husband, dog and almost-two daughter.

I love my family. There’s this complete awareness I get about my daughter when we sleep in the same room. There's definitely that closeness. She talks in her sleep like I did when I was little, like my husband does sometimes. I know when she’s having a bad day. She had a bad dream this morning. I heard her cry out in her sleep, “My juice! No, my juice!” (This is what a toddler’s nightmare’s are made of.) We’re changing daycares next week and I heard her cry out her friend’s name. “Emma!”

But what I wouldn’t give for a few minutes of alone. I’ve been getting enough sleep, seven or eight hours. And yet, I’m so tired. I want some time to read, time to just be me. Oh, what a jewel I had for all those single years—in college when I was unpopular and had all the “me time” I could ever use.

In the movie, Contact, Jodie Foster says that “No one, none of us is alone.” Oh, come on! Please? Not even for ten minutes? (And yes… I even shower with my daughter.)

*sigh*

Sometimes togetherness is overrated.

Free Range Children

No, that's not a typo. It is, of course, a blog.

http://freerangekids.wordpress.com/

One NYC woman, after letting her 10-year-old city-savvy son ride the subway home, all by himself, was virtually attacked by other mothers with scathing accusations of neglect and abuse. I've seen neglect. I've seen abuse, and this was neither. Letting a child find his or her own way home has to be done sometime, and I for one was riding my bike all over town by the age of 10, and I did it on my own. Some of my favorite memories are of me and my dog hiking through the back woods of planned suburbia, where they kindly left streams and ponds intact, sometimes with friends, sometimes on my own. And while I may have some serious mother issues, I never once remember her sitting outside watching me while I played with friends. She checked on me from time to time, but always had her own things going on.

And when I was a little older I did rebel, and my friends and I snuck out of a friend's house in the middle of the night and... walked to 7-11 for a slurpee. The closest we came to trouble was seeing another group of kids. And not knowing what they were up to or if we were "caught" we simply ran home.

We knew how to cross streets. We knew how to cook for ourselves. We knew to lock doors behind us when we were home alone, to not answer the door if it was a stranger and not to tell anyone on the phone our parents weren't home. Is it me, or isn't this like teaching a man to fish and he'll have food for life? Teach a kid how to take care of themselves, and they'll know how to and want to take care of themselves. I think it may be harder for the parent to let go of not only their child, but of fear of the unknown. I don't think letting go makes a bad parent, I think it makes a good one.

If I was an independent child, my daughter may be downright fearless. Yeah, it was unnerving for me to find my not-quite-two-year-old Blue Eyes at the top of an eight foot tall ladder the other day. (We're having work done on our home.) But I had taught her at the playground how to climb a ladder to a slide, and she wanted to do it again.

And I pushed away heart attack mounting in my chest. I pushed away the thoughts of what could happen if she fell-- broken arms and trips to the E.R.-- and stood next to her as she climbed down all by herself.