Let Sleeping Babes Lie… March 15, 2007
Me (in a whisper): Aren’t the babes sweet?
Violet (in an even quieter whisper): When they’re asleep
Sometimes A Girl Just Wants To Be Rescued March 7, 2007
It was just one and then two and then it was an entire army. They were invading my kitchen. Were they looking for lunch? Or just a snack? Did they intend to carry the cookie jar off with them? I thought I was winning the war; but they kept sending out replacement troops.
And then I saw him. He was tall, blond, and handsome. He was my knight in shining armor. His weapons of choice were insect spray and ant traps. The man in uniform was willing to rescue the damsel in distress, and I loved it. Chivalry is not dead…and I’m singing dead ants! dead ants! dead ants!
It’s The Anniversary Of The Birth Of Dr. Seuss!!!! March 3, 2007
Violet and I decided to celebrate by reading a few Dr. Seuss books. Our favorite (for tonight) happens to be 50 year old The Cat In The Hat.
I am amazed that I am reading a book to my daughter that my mother could have enjoyed as a child. If I close my eyes I can almost see my grandmother sitting on the edge of her twins’ bed reading, “And this mess is so big and so deep and so tall”.
Did she feel, as I feel, that she wasn’t merely reading but describing her house after a day of “The sun did not shine. It was too wet to play. So we sat in the house all that cold, cold, cold, wet day”. Did she think about going after her net to “get those Things yet”? Did she long for a day when she could just “sit! sit! sit! sit!” I wish I could ask her all of these questions and a whole lot more.
My mom says that grandma was an amazing mother. I’m sure she would have agreed with The Cat in the Hat when he said, “I know it is wet and the sun is not sunny. But we can have lots of good fun that is funny!”
He Promised Me The Moon….and I got it! March 2, 2007
If I admit that I hear voices will someone have me committed (please)?
Most days, my life is like a verse out of “Old McDonald Had A Farm”. I’m the duck quacking up and the three little pigs are oinking for another snack. I also hear “It’s Raining, It’s Pouring” but only after we’ve been homebound for a good 12 hours. In the farthest corner of my mind the voices chant “I’m A Nut” repetitively. And most days, “It’s A [very] Small World”. In the evening, I even hear my own tired, voice pleading “Hush Little Baby, Don’t You Cry”.
It wasn’t always like this. A lifetime ago, I only heard one voice and that was the voice of Old Blue Eyes himself, Frank Sinatra. He, prompted by my sweet husband, would serenade me with “Fly Me To The Moon”. In our 20s my husband promised me the world, he just didn’t say that it would be the world of Ramona the Pest and How to Eat Fried Worms. I really should learn to ask more questions.
Sometimes, when the other voices are screaming I try to listen for the quiet, reassuring melody of romance, innocence, and optimism. Life on the moon is certainly not what I had in mind, but it has been….an adventure that I wouldn’t trade for life on any other planet!
HIT ME WITH YOUR BEST SHOT, by Pat Benatar March 1, 2007
Rachael (my new friend at crankmama.com) and I are participants in March’s Blog Exchange (http://www.theblogexchange.net/). Go there to read others or to find out how to participate.
CrankMama is Rachael, Bellingham WA resident and potty-mouth mama to three girls (including identical twin 5 year olds). She channels Erma Bombeck and Anne Sexton (without the oven). She writes so that she can survive and laugh at it all.
Following is here story for the exchange. I’ll post mine here tomorrow. Happy Reading.
Remember that silly Ally McBeal TV show from the 90s? In one episode, Ally’s therapist asks her to identify her personal theme song? Well, she picks one and it puts a spring in her step and a sparkle in her eye and inspired me to do the same thing. At the time, I was also a single career girl in my 20s, equally confused and misdirected (though with a bit more junk in the trunk). As such, I proudly picked Pat Benetar’s “Hit Me With Your Best Shot” a song which trumpets a woman’s toughness despite the usual disappointments (heartache, fear, insecurity). Here I was, trying to be tough in a world where commitment and stability and integrity seemed as elusive as a good paying job as a social worker. So I’d walk along and sing “Hit Me With Your Best Shot” and dare the world to bring it. Bring it on. I was tough, rough, and ready. Or so I thought.
Three years later I was pregnant with twins with a boyfriend of five months. The twins and I were a family. A family who eventually started over without the man, with the love and support of my wonderful family. Since then I’ve learned that one should never beg the universe to bring it on. That’s just foolhardy hubris.
On the other hand, all of the posturing gave way (through a crucible of sleepless nights, and a million ear infections) to something deeper and tougher than a dare. If I had a song to choose today, it would be something more like the classical music I played growing up. A dreamy piece I used to play called “The Syrinx” by Debussy. It’s haunting and gorgeous and melodious. And you never know, after listening, how it will turn out. When you play the piece you are asking rather than telling the universe to reveal its beauty. The challenge and toughness is all underneath. A river of strength greater than any youthful dare.
