Aug 052009
 


Three snippets from today’s conversations with My Feminincess:

Tish- Mommy, Do I look as beautiful as a princess?

Me- Why do you want to be a princess?

Tish-Because I’m a girl!

Me- Right. Did you know that girls can be doctors or lawyers or firefighters or athletes?

Tish- Lawyers can be firefighters?

Me- No, well, I guess they can. But I was saying that girls can be firefighters. Girls can be whatever they want to be.

Tish- Oh. Well, I want to be a princess.

Me- Why? What do princesses do all day?

Tish – They spin and they tiptoe.

Me- Oh.

Sigh.


Tish- Girls don’t go to work.

Me- Where do girls go then?

Tish- They stay at home.

Me- What do they do at home?

Tish- They play.

Me- Oh.

Sigh.


Tish- Mommy, I went to heaven once.

Me- Really? Tell me about it!

Tish- I saw the tooth fairy and I held a baby tooth fairy and I saw Santa and the Easter bunny and I saw God.

Me – You saw God!? What did God look like?

Tish- She looked like brownish.

Me- OH!

Hallelujah.



Aug 052009
 

One day Chase brought home a PTA flyer that read: “For Teacher Appreciation Week, let’s give the teachers a lunch banquet of home cooked food. Please send in your favorite dish, along with the recipe card.” WHAT? I panicked and reread the flyer, searching for the, “Check this box if you’d rather just send $10,” part. No box. I imagined all the other moms casually flipping through their “favorite dish” recipe card files, since apparently these existed. For the thousandth time I whined to Craig, “Why is kindergarten so haaaaaaaaard??” I considered boycotting the event, out of principle, and incompetence. But I really did want to appreciate the teachers. Teachers are the people I appreciate the most. So on Banquet Day I proudly delivered a batch of gourmet cupcakes with red and black Bobcat frosting and the following “recipe card:”

Melton Cupcake Family Recipe

1. Google “local bakery”

2. Dial, state order, read credit card number

3. Relax on couch immediately with large glass of wine.

Aug 052009
 

One evening while we were doing the dishes, Craig noticed that I was aggressively quiet and he asked me what was wrong. “Nothing,“ I said. He waited. I turned and continued, like he knew I would. “I’m frustrated. I never have time to write. I feel like I’m not doing something that makes me who I am.” Craig pulled out his Blackberry and set his alarm to ring at 5:15 am the next day. He put the Blackberry on his night stand before he fell asleep, and the next morning when it sounded, he leaned over and whispered “5:15, babe, get to work.” Then he silenced his alarm and went back to sleep. He has repeated this ritual every morning for the past three months, without ever suggesting that I set my own alarm. So each morning while it’s still dark, I wake up to Craig’s encouraging voice, and I tiptoe into the kitchen to pour the fresh coffee that he has made for me the night before, and I sit in front of my computer, and I do what makes me who I am.

Our chief want in life is somebody who shall make us do what we can.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson

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