It's the Little Things...

A Short Winter's Note

2011-03-24T18:46:00.004-05:00

Winter clings to one last embrace, unwiling to release us to spring's loving arms.
Did they say "snow" possible?
Why yes, yes they did...
Alas, it is March and not the April I imagined it to be.

The Chosen

2011-03-23T18:36:00.004-05:00

The theater moves around us as people of all ages find their seats and merrily chat to their neighbor. We sit in the front row, the stage just before us serving as footrest if we so desire. It is a theater in the round and we are "right there" with the actors.
At 11:00 the show begins, and I am transported back to high school when I lost myself in the story of two boys living within five blocks of one another in Brooklyn, New York. It is 1944, WWII is nearing its end, and Danny hits a baseball into Ruven's eye beginning their adventure together as students and as friends.
I am not sure how many times I read The Chosen or how many times it enchanted me with its story and its characters... and this morning, in the theater in South East DC, I was transported once again. The acting was amazing, the script followed the story well, and the show was, in every way, fabulous.

Clutter Be Gone

2011-03-22T19:13:00.005-05:00

"How did you do that!" My daughter walks into the kitchen after a long day of her busy life and sees... clean... from the counters to the cupboards to the everything in between. The kitchen is clean and clutter free!
It is a wonderful blessing to have my mom around for the next few days!

Sparking Ideas

2011-03-21T12:10:00.002-05:00

“I want a step- dad.”

I am silent as I have no idea where this is coming from. My daughter is eleven and has never wanted a dad.

“I want a step dad who can teach me to fly.”

Ah, This is starting to make sense.

She loves Wendy Mass and is currently reading For Every Soul a Star… in which one of the character’s step dad teaches him to… fly!

Paradox

2011-03-20T15:36:00.004-05:00

Beach towels were spread around the edge of the black top. Kids chattered, parents wandered, and the sun shone brightly putting the books on display squarely in their own spotlights.
Throughout the month of February, the grade set forth upon a quest - each student researching and writing a non-fiction book. Topics ranged from animals to people and everything in between. Each student chose the amount of work - some added an index while others a glossary... and everyone had pictures.
I sat on my daughter's towel flipping through her book and listening to her best friend read about dolphins to her dad. The bright blue sky offered endless possibilities as it reached from horizon to horizon. Listening to the chatter, enjoying the sun and the gorgeous day, I found it difficult to blieve that just hours earlier my office learned of the loss of our contract proposal meaning that within weeks, most of us will be unemployed.

Crapes

2011-03-19T17:03:00.003-05:00

Weekends are all about crapes.
She does it on her own...
The flour, eggs, butter, milk...
Spooning it onto the griddle...
The smell wafts up the stairs...
"Come and get it" she calls when her cooking is done...
This night I add strawberries to mine while she spreads hers with Nutella.
Weekends are all about someone else treating me - by cooking Crapes.

She is SPILLING INK again!

2011-03-17T10:24:00.003-05:00

For the longest time, my daughter included “author” in the list of professions she wanted when she grew up. She spent hours writing stories followed by time illustrating them.

This past summer, she decided that she wasn’t going to be an author or an illustrator. She started thinking about all the other things she could be. She stopped writing stories, but wrote a poem now and again. She fell in love with science and found a stronger taste for math.

(As I write I find myself thinking… is this still my daughter?)

Before her writing test last week, I handed her a copy of Spilling Ink. “You can read this to prepare for writing your essay.”

Having rejected reading the hard copy I bought when it was first released (donated to her class library) and showing no interest in reading the paperback I bought for her at home, she decided to give it a try, for the test.

And she is still reading it.

And she is writing stories.

And she has discovered new creativity and imagination – stories with humor and a completely different voice than in the past.

This book, Spilling Ink, at the right time… opened her eyes and her mind and reminded her of the delight she found in writing.

When I found the book in her pack last night, I assumed she had finished it. “Oh no,” she said. “I accidently put it in.”

So back to school it went today. She reads a little, writes a lot, and returns to the pages of the book.

She found a new copy of Stone Soup – the periodical written by kids – last night… reading and enjoying it cover to cover – appreciating, a new, what it takes to write a story. Perhaps she was even reading the kid’s stories with a different perspective.

Thank you to the authors of Spilling Ink and to the blogs I have read that encouraged me to buy the book and to donate it to the class library. Several kids in the class have read it – and now my daughter is finding the magic it offers to those who dare to open the cover!

One of Those Days

2011-03-16T14:57:00.003-05:00

It has been one of those day

You know those days…

From the moment I walked into my office

To the moment I log off the machine

I am exhausted and it is just now 4!

Shared Time

2011-03-15T12:47:00.001-05:00

We sat together at the bar – her homework done, our meal completed

Notebook traveling back and forth

A sort of Pictionary

My pictures penned

Lines off, not connecting

Simple outlines

Vaguely, perhaps, resembling the word in mind.

Her drawings

Detailed, exact

Creative in presentation

Word expressed clearly in black ink

And we laughed

Chatted

Enjoyed our afternoon

A Return to Waking in the Dark

2011-03-14T11:00:00.001-05:00

The clock does not say 6.

It has to say 5.

I look out the window to find more than just a gray day… it is dark.

It can’t be 6 I think as I snuggle back under the quilt with the cat.

But the clock is chiming (something it does only after 6) and I know, in my heart of hearts that it is, actually, now after 6.

Spring's Song

2011-03-13T13:04:00.001-05:00

At my house, there are many signs of spring – trees budding, grass turning green, birds moving from spring training to full choral performances… and there are frogs. The music of the frogs begins in early evening after the sun has set and as the sky moves from pale blue to dark. It is spring music; tones only heard during these first weeks of the season.

The frog lullaby has started! Soon I will be able to open my bedroom windows at night, curl beneath the quilt and allow their hopeful songs to move me to sleep.

And Then, There is Silence

2011-03-12T16:49:00.002-05:00

A birthday party, around the corner...
We arrived home and she was out the door....
"Bye Mom..."
Words I feel I need to get used to hearing a
s I anticipate hearing them more and more frequently in years to come.
And I am left... with silence.

I

Petites!!

2011-03-11T12:58:00.001-05:00

“Do you want to run ahead and order?” I ask as I stand at the counter waiting for the server to return.

“Yes!” Off she goes.

I receive the expected answer and return to our table to collect two backpacks and two large umbrellas. Gathering everything into the most comfortable position possible, I navigate my way through signs, people, and “wet floor” signs. As I walk out the door, I notice that it has, for the moment, stopped raining.

Making my way to the middle of the shopping center, through another door, and to my daughter’s side where she is waiting in line for dessert – a chocolate, peanut butter petite… delicious! We have changed our regular routine to include this stop at Starbucks – currently celebrating their 40^th anniversary.

A birthday, a free petite that is all about chocolate and peanut butter… that is worth celebrating!

Mary Poppins I am Not

2011-03-10T10:44:00.001-05:00

My umbrella blew inside out as I walked to the coffee shop. Somehow I don’t think this ever happened to Mary Poppins... my thought as I twisted and turned suggesting that the wind playfully return the umbrella to its correct position.

As I sighed thanking the weather report for “Not” mentioning the gusts of swirling wind this rainy morning, I consider Marry Poppins.

While I am not a stranger to singing and dancing anywhere at any time, I am not sure I do with it with the grace and talent (or the costumes) Marry enjoys. Unfortunately, I cannot make medicine taste good, have toys and other items put themselves away, or adventure through chalk drawings. As for flying… even with my big striped umbrella, flying is not an option (though my daughter has tried)

Reaching into my carpet bag to find “just the thing” would be a wonderful piece of magic.

But, Mary Poppins I am not.

As I peered from beneath the bottom edge of my umbrella, forcing it before me like a shield pushing the wind back or holding it at bay, I realized that, in several ways, I am like Mary…

I can create magic through words and ideas – no carpet bag necessary.

I sing and dance - but also walk and talk and enjoy the birds, no costumes needed.

And I don’t need to disappear into a chalk drawing to discover anything – I can quiet my mind and see the magic of the world around me.

Though I wouldn’t mind the flying part; and, I would love to know how she controls her umbrella in a playful wind… I am not Mary Poppins. I am me!

Touched by Books - A different Kind of Slice

2011-03-09T10:18:00.001-05:00

“Was it good?” I asked my daughter as we walked to get a quick snack before ballet. She had the first part of her writing test yesterday and read 1.5 books while she waited for the class to finish.

“It was okay.”

Standard answer. It was okay. Rarely is there a book that she loves or one that receives a “good.” Most of them are simply “okay.” Sometimes I find this disheartening as I do love books; and yet, she reads; she loves to read; to finishes the books and understands what she is reading; and how many books do I, also an avid reader, “love?”

There are books that touched my life – Where the Red Fern Grows (which I just ordered for her); Little Women; Les Miserable’s (Loved this one); Because of Winn-Dixie…Tale of Two Cities…And yet, to read this list, I find that they are books I read years ago. Is it only in retrospect that we can see the books that touched our lives or turned us “on” as readers?

My daughter is reading Spilling Ink today in preparation for her writing test tomorrow. Her favorite books to date: Familiars; Savvy; Lost States of America; The Girl Who Could Fly; Ballet Shoes; Moxie Roosevelt; But the one that has touched her life – Umbrella Summer, oh, and the graphic novel Smile. (She loves Winn-Dixie too and has for years)

I wonder though, in years, as she ages, what works she will remember.

Chocolate

2011-03-08T12:31:00.002-05:00

I have a few weaknesses… Good books, taking walks… travel… interesting conversations… my daughter… and chocolate! This morning, I sit before my computer catching up on Podcasts (This American Life) and catching up with my Google Reader. It is lunch time and I would love, love, some chocolate. And then I found this recipe for Chocolate Mint brownies on my reader…

*sigh*

I wanted chocolate before… Now I really want chocolate!

And this is a slice of my life today… now, can someone pass the chocolate?

Joy!!

2011-03-07T12:20:00.002-05:00

The rain splattered against the window.

Smells of hot griddle and cooking crapes wafted up the stairs.

Machines swished and spun laundry… ah, clean sheets!

And I sat… reading…

Lost in the writing of a wonderful author and a good book.

New Technology and Being Grateful for a Service Package

2011-03-06T14:57:00.003-05:00

"It is nearly too warm," I think as I sit, back to the rain just beyond the plate glass window. Computer on my lap, I attempt to find peace and quiet despite the activity and noise of the young boy restlessly waiting to join the adult yoga class.
The screen of the lap top goes black.
I am stunned. "Did I hit a button?"
I hit the power button to watch and spring back to life...Only to have it go black again a few minutes later.
Sitting back, I decide that it just needs a few minutes rest. This new computer has just returned from the shop so it is unlikely to still have issues... right?
After a few minutes, I hit power again, check the battery, find that there is 50% left, and do a proper "shut down."
I know that within a few hours i will be back on the phone setting up an appointment to have this issue addressed.
And I once again am grateful for the purchase of that long term service package - You just never know with new technology!

Absorbed in a Story

2011-03-04T11:53:00.003-05:00

Together we sit
My crochet hook weaving colors
Her head propped on her hands
Completely absorbed in the stories drifting from the computer.
Unaware of time passing Minds captivated by the words, tones, and talent of these story tellers.
We were listening to The Moth podcast – a non-profit bringing the art of storytelling back to life in many ways.
Story telling isn’t a lost art – it is, for us, a newly found treasure!

Rice

2011-03-03T09:43:00.004-05:00

If someone would have told me a few years ago that I would be awake at dawn washing rice, I would not have believed them. Yet this morning, while the breeze outside tickled the windows gently reminding me that it is still winter, I found myself at the sink washing rice. Fingers in grains, water rinsing, I am connected to centuries of people throughout the world. Though no one in my family has done more to prepare rice than grab the red box of “minute Rice” and boil water – I feel a sense of connectedness; a tap on the shoulder suggesting that regardless of how far we have come or the advances in technology, people continue to wash rice.

Close Enough to Touch

2011-03-02T10:50:00.002-05:00

“look!”
We are late as is and she is marching off across the grass behind our house in the other direction.
“where are you going?”
“Look!” she exclaims again.
Sighing deeply, I set off behind her wondering what it is that she has discovered on this bright second morning in March.
Shoes lightly sinking into ground softened by rain Monday, I walk to where, just a month ago, her self made igloo stood.
“ Flowers! Look!” She points to the tree…
On this, the second day of March, one of the trees behind our house is blooming!
Suddenly freezing temperatures and inches of ice and snow are forgotten… Spring is close enough to touch, to hear, and soon… to smell.

Welcoming March

2011-03-01T11:23:00.001-05:00

Today the sky glittered blue with spring delight; sparkling in the sun’s joy and beauty. From the counter at the coffee shop, I peer out recognizing that it looks wonderfully warm though the reality is quite different as it is, just the first of March, and a chill lingers in the air.
I chat with the cashier, wish the barista a good day, take coffee in hand, and move through the door to start the day – this day – this 1st day of meteorological spring… This first day of March.

My Commuting Days

2010-08-10T06:51:00.001-05:00

For the past week I have been one of the many, the proud, the sweaty... a commuter!

Each morning I enjoy a cool (kind of) walk to the bus station to start my day. From the bus I move to the metro, where I join hundreds, if not thousands, of other Virginians making their way into DC. A quick and crowded metro ride ends with a wonderful walk across the Key bridge, a frozen coffee, and then I disappear behind the screen of the laptop. I am loving it.

Since moving to this part of Virginia, I have had a wonderful commute, by foot. My home is just a mile from my office. It is an easy commute. The last time I really commuted was when I lived in Europe over 15 years ago.

15 years… that is so hard to believe!

Although people drive in Europe, it is not what it is in the States. Using public transportation is as a part of their lifestyle as walking, fresh produce, and everything closed during the month of August. It just is what it is. When I lived there, I blended in and joined the masses – and the commutes were about an hour both ways. I didn’t think twice about it; I grew to love it.

I didn’t think twice about this period of commuting either. Sure, I can work remotely and commute into DC for a bit. No worries!

That was before I experienced carrying a laptop (and other stuff) for over an hour! I don’t know how people do it daily as this laptop is heavy – it is quite old so maybe the newer versions are much lighter?

Beyond the weight of the laptop… I am loving commuting again. There is an energy about it that is not part of my every day life.

I know people who do not like to commute via public transportation, many preferring the freedom of their own car even though it means longer amounts of time and dealing with traffic. I know others that just don’t like taking public transportation as if it is beneath them or something.

Between the bus and the metro – and walking the streets to my temporary office – I am connected to life in a way that I am usually not. The metro is a microcosm of society – everyone is represented in the metro system. Professionals, students, tourists – diverse socioeconomic backgrounds - languages and cultures represented from around the world.

In a few weeks I will return to my office job and my mile commute. My pace will slow to what it once was. Rather than walking to and from work across a bridge and noting the changes that are always occurring in the water and on its shores; I will walk to work down the road noting how the construction has progressed. My office will no longer be within easy access of smoothies and people coming and going; rather, I will be in my solo office doing what needs to get done with NPR as background noise.

I love my office and my short commute; however, there is something about my brief return to the commuting world that delights me and lightens my step (despite that heavy laptop). It is the energy, the diversity, and the connectedness. In my office, I am in the familiar where working remotely I am in the unknown, which I find exciting.

Oh, and it is that river and that bridge and the way the city seems to welcome those who walk across.

Two Truths

2010-04-13T11:06:00.000-05:00

We sat together, drinking and laughing.

“Did you play two truths today?”

“No”

“That’s too bad as you could have had fun with that.”

“1. A horse rolled on me. 2. I fell off a rip stick. And 3. I ate a brownie. Which is the lie?”

We burst into laughter as she predicted that there is no way her class would have guessed that the one thing that didn’t happen in that list was… eating a brownie!

Yes, she went on a trial ride, the horse swam in the deep part of the creek, and then the horse rolled (with her) in the sand.

Yes, she did fall off a rip stick while attempting to learn to ride/drive one.

And no, she didn’t eat a brownie!

You Can't Stay Mad When...

2010-03-31T00:10:00.001-05:00

She says nothing as we walk. Not a morning person anyway, her silence is as gray as the clouds overhead. "I am mad. I just want to hit something." "I have nothing for you to hit. Why not try running?" "No" I thought for a minute. There is no way I am going to spend the morning with this mood. "Try making a funny noise." "No" "Oh, Come on" "No" "A funny bear noise. No one can stay mad when they make a funny bear noise. GRRRRRR" I demonstrate as loudly as I can "No" "What about a dinosaur noise" "No" "A funny cow?" I am laughing now as I illustrate each noise as loudly as possible. After all, no one can stay mad when making such noises. "No" I give up... Hours later we return to the conversation with her explaining that she couldn't make those noises as they were "embarrassing" and me suggesting that sometimes people find it rewarding to just make a loud noise as it releases their frustration. "What about a funny cat noise?" She does a cross between a growl and a yowl... and laughs... "See, you just can't be mad if you are making funny cat noises..." We laugh our way down the sidewalk - me not caring who hears and her still not sure that she isn't a tad embarrassed, but she is laughing. She must feel better.

First Day of Springbreak

2010-03-30T00:00:00.005-05:00

7:15, we are out the door. Even though it is the first day of springbreak, there are things that require our attention - like the 8:30 dentist appointment that must be kept. Drops fall from the sky - of all the days to be sprinkling and gray, I would have prefered Mother Nature had picked another but... we are okay. It is pouring and it isn't freezing. We are on the move. Thirty minutes pass - we have walked over a mile and have no idea how much farther we have to go, but we are on the move. The kid decides she is "not" in a great mood... *sigh* 8:26, we have four minutes to get to the dentist. We are going to make it!! We walk through the door. The receptionist looks at me "Your appointment isn't until 10:30." "What?" She says my daughter's name... "Yes, 10:30, but I can get you in at 10:00" "10:00 is great" I comment as we consider the opportunities. We are two girls with 1.5 hours for a nice breakfast... Bagels and coffee, here we come!

17 Steps

2010-03-29T12:45:00.005-05:00

17 steps from bottom to top
17 steps from the landing behind the security door to the door that opens into home and love and all that comes with it.
17 steps she climbed, by herself, in her skates, tears pouring down her face.
17 steps to the door
1 step into the house
And then she sat on the floor in tears.
She sat before I could get to her.
Questions tumbling through my mind as I verbalized nothing and sat down with her to finally discover what was upsetting her.
As I unlaced her skates and listened, she told me of the fall from the car, her hurting elbow and shoulder, and her arrival at that moment in our house.
Skates off, she stood and I held her, sobs working through her body - was it only about a fall? Was there more as the tears seemed more heavy than those resulting from a slight scrape?
I just held her, rubbed her back, and let her cry.
It was only later that I realized that she requested me, but I was not notified though I sat in the house twenty feet away and that she ventured from the car, through the parking area, up the outdoor stairs, and then up the hall stairs on her own.

A Sandwich and a Smile

2010-03-28T10:57:00.003-05:00

My daughter loves her Subway sandwich for lunch.

We crossed the parking lot in the early morning hoping that the shop was open as some shops open before 10, right?

“Do you think they forgot to put on the open sign?”

I considered the possibilities of that happening. Unlikely. Then the chances of getting her the sandwich… higher as we would just take it to her later.

“Check the door,” I suggested.

Locked.

“What are the hours?”

She looked to find that they open at 10.

“We will drop it off for you later.”

Together we started walking back through the plaza center toward the parking lot.

“Do you want something?” a voice called from behind us

We turned to find one of the women from behind the Subway counter. She invited us back, pulled out the sandwich fixings, and prepared a sandwich for us.

I am continually amazed at the kindness of those around us. It was a wonderful way to start the morning.

And Now... Silence

2010-03-27T16:40:00.002-05:00

Silence...
My house fills with silence.
I drift from room to room unsure what to do with myself in this silence. There is much I could do but not much that draws my attention.
My daughter is out.
Nonna is at the airport.
The hustle and bustle of the last week have drawn to a close leaving silence.
There was a shared movie (Diary of a Wimpy Kid).
There was shopping... and wonderful shopping it was.
There were shared meals, shared laughter, and shared time together.
Nonna and the kid shared "Notes from the Dog" finding the two adults in the room in tears at its close.
And now -
Silence

The Present

2010-03-26T11:42:00.002-05:00

“What was your favorite part of the day?” she ask as the lights went out and sleep tugged at my eye lids.

“I enjoyed the whole day. What about you?”
“The present.”

“The present?”

“Yes, not the past or the future, the present is my favorite. Right now.” She was quiet for a few seconds and then giggled… “The present of the present…”

From the mouths of babes… the present is a gift.

Healthy Kid Day

2010-03-25T12:09:00.002-05:00

Today is about appointments for the kid – braces will be optional, kid is quite healthy. We are all good to go.

But…

Her root channel tooth looks a little more gray.

Due to her age, it could mean that the root specialist did a partial extraction, which would be a concern.

As I thought – great, another root channel, the kid commented…

“I already know what to expect…” (No big deal mom!!)

The dentist confirmed that it was not a partial but a complete root extraction and so…no root canal repeat needed.

My step was lighter

My daughter was normal

And yet, I got the biggest hug from that kid imaginable when we got on the elevator…

A hug that this mom needed

I had a fabulous well kid hug from the best kid in my life – and she gives the greatest hugs!!

These Shoes Were Made for Walking

2010-03-24T14:54:00.002-05:00

I walk.

Okay, that is an understatement. It might be more accurate to say that I hike. Everyday, three miles minimally. I walk. As close to 365 days of the year as I can get barring holidays and vacations.

Walking is a part of my lifestyle adopted while living in Europe.

Today it was time to replace the sandal walking shoes – the shoes that I wear as much as humanly possible during the year.

“Wow” the salesman commented as he gazed down at my shoes.

“Yes, I need to replace them.” I commented as I looked at the various shoes and informed him of the size needed.

“I have never seen a pair like that.”

True, my shoes are in quite a state. They have walked through rain and puddles. They have shared fun races and have jumped and danced in various environments. They have walked in sand, through wooded areas where sidewalks are found miles away, and in several cities in the US. These shoes have walked – they were made for walking after all. One day I might calculate just how many miles I wear a pair of shoes.

“I don’t have another pair like that, but I can have them shipped to you. Let me show you the new style though.”

I am always up for something new… and change is good.

Five minutes later I walked out wearing a new pair of shoes; a different style but one that promises the same comfort and foot experience.

I thin this year I will keep track of my miles!

I am now prepared for summer – new shoes, lots of smiles, a great kid…

Spring – bring it on!!

Destination Vacation

2010-03-23T15:19:00.003-05:00

We sat in front of her desk, the outline of the cruise ship spread before us. The excitement mounted as we talked about formal night, swimming pools, fresh strawberries, bakeries, and different destinations.

Final payments made – now it is just about living as fully as possible until June arrives!

In Spirit

2010-03-22T08:48:00.001-05:00

Nonna is visiting for her springbreak. This year, she left Papa at home to work, so it is just the “girls!” After a long journey north, one which we shared with lots of other travelers and their cars, we decided to grab a quick and light snack before venturing home to start preparing for another week.

My daughter snagged a high table in our favorite seating area, and we mentally and physically relaxed into the familiar and the knowledge that the wonderful trip had come to an end.

My daughter looked at the chair next to her, “It feels like Papa is here.”

“He is here in spirit,” I commented handing her the phone so she could call and text him.

Family isn’t about physical presence as much as it is about that feeling in our hearts.

Historic Jamestown with Don

2010-03-21T18:58:00.003-05:00

The day opened with a burst of sunlight as the sun rose over colonial Virginia. We left our hotel to explore the different sites associated with this historic part of the country. I fueled up on coffee and pastries in Williamsburg while my daughter and Nonna anxiously awaited the drive to the different parts. First stop - the reconstructed area in which visitors are able to see houses, the fort, the ships, and the Native village models. The museum is wonderful having been expanded for the 400th anniversary of the founding of Jamestown in 2007.
We then set forth to discover something new - Historic Jamestown administrated by Preservation Virginia and the National Park Service. This is an active dig on the original fort site on Jamestown Island and worth a visit.
We stood on the edge of the dig site listening to our wonderful guide, Don, tell us about the process and the work invested in this dig. He told of graves found, the dedication of the teams working the site, and the different artifacts uncovered thus far. Twelve inches below the ground, history is being unearthed and brought to life in, providing information that no one envisioned.
The james river lapped against the shore line just yards away as we stood - my 4th grader attentively listening and preparing to ask questions at the end of the tour. Having read Written in Bone and Blood on the River, she was prepared.
She asked her questions. Don did his best to answer them.
The river rolled past.
People milled about.
And the wind blew - whispering around us and weaving in its own tales of the past.
Jamestown was established 13 years prior to the settlement in new England. By 1619, representatives from 4 settlements and 7 plantations were sent to jamestown to serve in a government of sorts. it was here, in jamestown, that the country had a chance to live or die... and 400 years later - we are thriving as the original Jamestown citizens never could have imagined.

On the Road

2010-03-20T19:16:00.006-05:00

I sit with my daughter in the business center at the hotel. It is a fluke as we are in williamsburg having left the DC area without my remembering to post my slice for the day. She reads over my shoulder helping me type this. It has been a day of ballet, exploring Georgetown, driving, Italian food, and a wander through the historic town. We now prepare for reading and bed before another trip to the past as we discover and explore the original Jamestown settlement and associated archaeological dig.
She corrects, I type. She reads, I listen. Just as in our everyday lives, my daughter and I have shared this day and this slice with all of you.

What is a Slice of Life

2010-03-19T08:54:00.003-05:00

When I entered this challenge last year, I had to try writing and thinking in a very different way than anything I had experienced before. I have to admit that sometimes, but not often, it proved quite challenging. I loved it. I found myself trying different styles and considering life a bit differently.

This year is proving to be a bit more challenging. My daughter is older, our life is a bit more settled in some ways and a bit less settled in others, and there are only so many times I can write about my delight in the changing weather!

This morning, when I sat to type my slice for today, the meaning of each slice kind of hit me.

These are little pieces of my life – the pieces that I might not remember in a week or a month or a year, but they are each gems that are now captured with words.

Life isn’t about the momentous occasions or the high profile memorable moments – it is about the simple, the every day, the little slices that fill each day and make it complete.

This was my realization as I sat trying to recall the little wake up song my daughter and I shared this morning.

I sang a line asking her to wake up while believing she was half asleep.

To my surprise, she sang an impromptu line back explaining that she was awake and cold…

I didn’t capture the words, but the exchange was a delightful surprise as our creativity gelled for two minutes in melodic morning harmony.

It was a slice of life – a moment of the everyday happenings that are often misplaced or set aside as a result of the business of our lives.

Thank you Slice of Life… for helping me to note and appreciate the tiniest and simplest gems… for in the end, it is, perhaps, all about the little things…

Ah... Spring

2010-03-18T17:41:00.002-05:00

As soon as we were dressed this morning, I ran around the house opening windows.
Yes, mid March and I delighted in the sounds of birds and traffic carried on the breeze.
Spring... the cats seemed to purr that much more loudly as they gathered on the rug next to the glass door - now open. The screen standing between them and the great outdoors didn't seem to bother them in the slightest.
Every chirp and flutter sent pointed ears twitching.
As we dashed out the door to start our day jobs, I had no doubt where the cats would spend their days... delighting in open windows, light breezes, warm temperatures, and the language of the birds.

Finding Gold

2010-03-17T13:50:00.001-05:00

Living with my daughter, it is not difficult to find magic in any given day or moment. It takes only the clearing of the mind and… poof, there it is! It is in her smile or the depth of her eyes or the lightness of her step. It is in her singing and dancing and energy. The magic is the essence of my daughter – from her creativity to her focus to her imagination to her complaints. There is no kid like her and there will be no adult like her.

As a friend reminded me a few weeks ago, I can see the magic in others but it appears that I have challenges seeing it within myself.

I have, at some level, been thinking about that concept. My strengths and weaknesses are known to me. I am comfortable with them; talk about them; and work with them without much issue. But my magic… the magic that makes me, me… that is something else entirely.

What is that spark that I bring to the world, my friends, family, neighborhood? How do I touch the lives around me? What is the magic within me that I need to see – and that others may or may not notice?

Thus, on this, the day of luck, good fortune, and my all time favorite color – GREEN (the color of vitality and life and renewal), I am setting forth on a little journey to find the magic in myself. With the help of the leprechauns and their mysterious natures, I will set forth to discover the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow… my rainbow and my magic!

Normal

2010-03-16T11:22:00.003-05:00

I stepped off the sidewalk to cross the parking lot. Grabbing my daughter’s hand, I started laughing.

“What’s so funny?” she giggled as she is never far from laughter herself.

I shook my head, laughing in pure delight as we moved toward the next sidewalk.

“I was singing… in my funny voice.”

She just walked with me – well, walking is not really what the kid does. She bounced along beside me ready to run if the chance permitted.

“So…”

“I’d rather be a hammer than a nail... then I sang, in my funny voice, yes I would…”

She giggled with me as we laughed…

“And just when I sang the funny ‘yes I would’ a guy walked by. I am sure he thought I was crazy… but having fun.”

“You aren’t crazy!” she said emphatically as we hit the sidewalk, dropped my hand, and started dancing toward the intersection…

No, in my family I am not crazy. Singing and dancing wherever and whenever is completely normal!

My Nemesis

2010-03-15T10:00:00.003-05:00

I open my eyes to find gray, muted light peaking through the bedroom window. Good, another hour to sleep. I snuggle back under the quilt preparing for a few more minutes of peace.

For some reason, I thought I would check the time…

7:05

Oh my!!

I call to my daughter – It’s after 7. We are running late!!

Shower, dress, breakfast, furry friends fed and loved, lunches made, backpacks packed, and we are out the door.

I was foiled again by daylight savings!

Cleaning

2010-03-14T10:10:00.001-05:00

Prairie Home Companion plays on the radio as I sit in my office. I have taken the time, on the misty and gray day, to come in and attempt to clean. Craving the quiet of the office, the solitude, and the mindless pleasure that comes from sorting, straightening, and cleaning.

Just me and the radio on this gray afternoon.

But it isn’t just me and the radio. For whatever reason, there are more people in the office today than there were Friday afternoon.

I have a feeling that I will pack my bags and leave sooner than anticipated. The cleaning can wait for a quiet day and an empty floor.

Umbrellas

2010-03-13T15:54:00.002-05:00

“Usually, when it is misty, we don’t use umbrellas” she notes from my side as we set out for the grocery store.

I know what she means. A little mist doesn’t bother me. In fact, umbrellas don’t usually do much good when it is just misty outside.

But today we use umbrellas to keep the wind from blowing the mist in our eyes.

I use an umbrella to try and keep my sweatshirt dry, if just a tad.

Perhaps it just isn’t warm enough not to use an umbrella?

Or perhaps I yield the umbrellas as a sort of shield – protecting me and my daughter from the world beyond our front door?

It is March, after all, and no one really ever knows what could happen in March!

Happy Birthday

2010-03-12T14:57:00.001-05:00

Yesterday Gramps turned 90

(I can’t even imagine what it is like to be 40 so 90 is a stretch of the imagination. Just think – how much life will change by the time I am 90!)

After a fun dinner, taking full advantage of the nicer weather, we began our walk home. Mobile phone in hand, the Lass placed the call to wish Gramps a Happy Birthday.

I sang a rowdy and loud rendition of Happy Birthday as the call began, but after that – it was all them – a conversation across a 4 generation gap… 90 to 10!

And my daughter laughed

She shared

She giggled

She talked and asked questions

She delighted in this birthday phone call with her great grandfather.

I really have no idea how his birthday was or what he might have done for this monumental day as he didn’t speak with me… and that is okay as I got to sing!!

He shared fifteen minutes of fun with his eldest great grandchild.

“Gramps said thank you for the song.” She reported when she disconnected the call…

I laughed – and quite a song it was.

Happy Birthday Gramps!!

90 never looked so good!!

Our Team

2010-03-11T14:26:00.001-05:00

“what do you do?” the cashier asked as I stood ordering our drinks. I gave her an odd look as I had no idea what she meant. She pointed to the logo on the left breast of both of our sweatshirts.

Ah….

“She runs, and I am the cheerleader.” I commented. “We are a team.”

The explanation was enough for the cashier, but it was just the tip of the ice berg. My daughter and I are a team as we have been from the moment I discovered I was pregnant.

It isn’t just that she runs and I cheer. She dances and I applaud. I enjoy the symphony and she endures. I love change and she adapts. She cries and questions and I hold and give back rubs.

She is the butterfly – gorgeous and strong, spreading wings and ready to take flight. I am the milk weed – ever there, ever watchful, and providing all that I can.

She holds my hand and laughs with me when I feel fun and full of laughter while I pull her into adventures when she would just as soon stick to the tried and true.

We are mother and daughter; a team of a different sort.

We have a wonderful and supportive pit crew

We have our own lives, separate from one another.

We are two quite different people.

And we are a team.

And we have the sweatshirts to prove it – though I am really surprised that someone noticed our logo!

Thank You

2010-03-10T09:18:00.008-05:00

Tuesday means grocery shopping after school and before ballet. It is about the salad bar and Starbucks, and a fun little tradition for the two of us. It has also come to mean familiar people working behind the different counters at the store and a “local” type environment.

As my daughter ran back to pick up another sample of bread from the bakery, I made my way to our favorite cash register adjacent to the Starbucks. As I bent down to find my card, a familiar voice commented… “here you are…”

I looked up in shock to find the barista from the Starbucks holding two drinks.

I didn’t know what to say except…”Thank you.”

He set down the drinks as I handed over my card and began to unload our few items on to the counter.

“That was so sweet.” I told the cashier as I put this and that down. I couldn’t get over my shock at the gesture.

“You hadn’t been over there first?” she asked as she scanned

“No. We have been out in the store.”

She just smiled

When my daughter returned, I showed her the drinks. She, like me, was pleasantly surprised. She ran over to pay while I loaded everything back into the cart.

My daughter and I are regulars in various stores around the area. They know us at the tea shop, at this and that café, and at the various Starbucks. People have watched my daughter grow from a toddler to the nearing teen age girl she is now. People ask after her ballet career or comment about her size. I am even accustomed to the different people knowing what we will order before we order. But…the thoughtfulness of this gesture washed over me.

I don’t know how they knew we were in the grocery store.

I don’t know how they had everything ready at just the perfect time.

I found myself speechless. I couldn’t do anything to repay this thoughtfulness and yet, I wanted to as “thank you” just didn’t seem to be enough.

But gratitude and a “Thank you” were all I had to give.

So here’s to the baristas in the Starbucks!! Thank you for the thoughtful gesture, for your smiles, for sharing in our delight and our lives, and for the great coffee.

Papa

2010-03-09T14:55:00.003-05:00

“I don’t get this math problem.”

She sat at the bar while I worked in the kitchen preparing tea. She read the problem.

“Is that it?”

“Yes,”

“Seriously?”

She laughed, “yes”

I gave an answer and then thought about it. Ah, this is silly. I am 39 and should be able to do this 4^th grade math problem. I picked up the phone and called someone who loves math problems… my dad.

She read the problem to him.

He suggested that he send her an e-mail as he didn’t really get it either. (This is just sad…I thought)

She then continued with a conversation about… Garfield. Earlier she found a Garfield comic that reminded her of Papa… and so she was sharing it with him from east coast to west.

He suggested that she e-mail him that one too…

Which she did!

This morning she was up and ready – she had to check her e-mail to see what papa wrote. This is pretty unusual as my daughter isn’t an e-mail/computer kid. She would rather be doing something else. But she was on the computer. She was reading her e-mail. She was delighted to see that papa got the same answer we did!

(And he liked the Garfield… which he found for himself online after she shared it with him)

That’s my dad – just as he was and is always there for me; he is always there for my daughter!

She just keeps going and going and going...

2010-03-08T19:48:00.003-05:00

"Sweats?"
"No, too hot."
"But they are short sweats."
"No, too hot."
I am not sure she understands that this morning is still March. Despite forecasts of temperatures this afternoon in the mid 50's, this morning it is still cold.
"Okay, Capri pants?"
"Yes"
She dresses in a flash and before I know it her hair is in a pony tail and she is downstairs ready for breakfast.
She is ready for the first day of the running season - visions of new personal records and goals of finishing in faster times running through her head.
***
This afternoon she reports in -
Training went well
She ran a mile and a half
She loved it
"They asked us to pick a word to describe ourselves."
"Oh, and what did you pick?"
"A lot of the girls said athletic as their word. I said, 'energizer battery'"
I had to laugh. Not only was she bouncing around when she relayed the story, but this kid is the energizer battery in human form... she goes, and goes, and goes... She just keeps going and going and going!!

Today she ran 1.5 miles, walked 3 miles and studied classical Russian ballet for 1.25 hours...and she is still going strong!

Ah....

2010-03-07T19:58:00.003-05:00

The weather man stated, with great confidence, that the sun would shine today, that the wind would be light, and that the temperatures would feel like spring.
With this in mind, I wasted no time finding a dress
Exchanging winter coats for spring sweatshirts
and then...
Finding my sandals!
Sandals...
Music to my ears - air to my feet
Sandals - the desired footware of my body and soul.
I stepped out of the house to feel the spring chill to the air and to also see the brilliance of a blue sky and a hopeful sun.
I had a spring in my step as the kid and I set forth on a day that started with a movie and ended with good friends and coffee and happy feet!

Sleepless in March

2010-03-06T17:04:00.004-05:00

Blink -
I am awake
The second night in a row I am awake after only a few hours sleep.
I close my eyes and flip on an audio book.
The clock chimes
I finish the book
The clock chimes
I start another
Eyes closed I can't relax enough to sleep
Finally, finally I drop off only to find the sun waking me moments later...
The sun,
A wonderful site despite my sleepless night.
Blue skies,
Bright sun,
And the purring cat...
Sleepless night or not, it promises to be a delightful day

Reading is Good for You

2010-03-05T11:16:00.002-05:00

“Let’s go” I call from downstairs. The clock is ticking. She got out of bed late throwing everything off schedule.

I return to the kitchen to finish doing what needs to be done.

Minutes pass seemingly like hours as I wait.

“Let’s go!”

I make my way up the stairs…

There she sits, on the bed, mouth wash swishing away, and a book open on her lap.

“We’re running late. Let’s go!”

She pops up, dog ears the page (because apparently she can’t find one of the hundreds of bookmarks we have purchased through the years) and spits before following me.

“Sorry” she says. “but you always say, reading is good for me.”

Walking on Ice

2010-03-04T09:43:00.001-05:00

“It’s ice” her voice giggles a little as she makes her way through the woods on the unplowed county road. The road is not plowed as it is not for cars, just for people and bikes.

I can see the sun glinting off the top of the show that remains. It doesn’t take much to realize that the rain yesterday coupled with freezing temperatures last night as turned the snowy tracks into a ski paradise for the squirrels and a traction nightmare for humans.

I take a deep breath and begin my journey. There are patches of pavement calling me, beckoning from their patches of sunlight. It is just the first few yards that are the worst.

The birds sing.

Machinery sounds from the garage next door.

I step, and step, and step…

“I feel like I am being watched.”

“Probably by the men on the garage.”

“That is what I figured,” and I start to laugh

My laughter throws me off balance and…

Within a second I am sitting on the ground smiling aware of the cold stinging on the heels of my palms.

The birds kept singing.

The machinery didn’t stop.

And her mittened hand reached to mine after I stood.

We made our way to the pavement and the across the creek and into the next neighborhood together.

Gratitude

2010-03-03T10:01:00.002-05:00

"Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today and creates a vision for tomorrow." -Melody Beattie

"Mamma?"
"Yes"
"Um, I just wanted to say thank you for spending this money on me." Her voice is small and filled with emotion.
I put my arms around her and hold her close, it is my job to provide her food and shelter - to ensure that her lunch is what it can be to get her through the day. It is not just my job, but it is my pleasure do do these things.
Just as it is my greatest joy in life to share her life and to have her share my life. As I explained to her, it isn't about the money but the shared experience and the time we spend together.
"Still" she says, the hole in her ballet shoes heavy in her mind "Thank you"
"You're welcome." I tell her giving her all the love I can. She doesn't understand that every day I find myself thankful for the person that she is and the wonders of being her Mamma.

Grocery Grace

2010-03-02T09:25:00.002-05:00

She wheels the cart with ease – a natural grocery shopper. I follow behind watching as she examines the varieties of freshly baked bread to be tested. Finding nothing she likes, she moves toward the bakery to choose a dessert for the evening. Without ever slowing, her left hand reaches, chooses, and slides the little box into the lower basket of the cart.

Grocery shopping grace in action

One flowing movement

The cart never stopped rolling; its driver didn’t pause or hesitate.

Begin one that likes to stop in front of the shelf and truly look at each item, I found myself stunned at my daughter’s actions.

Smiling, I applauded her grace and shopping abilities. (I created a monster! - smile)

From that point on, she practiced with everything we purchased for the evening’s meal.

Her greatest challenge came in the dairy aisle – crowded with people, she had to practice the same grace while weaving through the other shoppers, and obtaining the right cheese.

Which, I can proudly say, she did!

“How did you do that?” I asked as we entered the next aisle on our way to the cashier.

“I read before I got there and then just kept walking as I picked up the cheese.”

And she dodged people and carts and a shop worker.

Amazing!

A natural born shopper – this kid could probably get through a grocery store in a matter of minutes with these talents she has developed.

Just another reason it is a delight to hang out with my daughter.

A Toast

2010-03-01T10:18:00.001-05:00

Her hot chocolate sat on the table, whipped ream melting as we waited. “The whipped cream is melting. Can I eat it?”

“Go ahead,” I smile as she picks up the spoon and delights in the flavor of the cocoa and the cream.

My latte’ finally arrives. She wastes no time in finding the handle of her mug and lifting it – looking at me expectantly.

I smile and lift my mug…

“To February 28!!”

“You made it; we made it!”

We laughed and celebrated the end of a long six months; the end of a process that we have each asked ourselves to work through with the greatest patience possible. Our lives are different now. She is more secure and confident; more direct and thoughtful in regards to her feelings. I am learning as I go.

We have met challenges head on during the last six months and have come out stronger and happier than we were throughout the process.

I wish I could tell her that the next few months will be easier; that they will be a bit more relaxed and a life that looks more familiar to her, but I can’t.

I can tell her that her mom is happier and healthier than ever.

I can point to how she is growing and maturing into an amazing young woman.

As we sat, delighting in our favorite brunch, we toasted an end to a process and welcome the beginning of something different – perhaps equally as challenging and yet perhaps more rewarding as well given the lessons we have learned and the strengths we have found throughout the past.

Love

2009-10-22T11:55:00.001-05:00

Love is holding on and letting go…

And, it takes courage and trust to recognize which is required.

This sense of timing is a skill I am developing – and it isn’t always easy…

But it is love

Holding on and letting go… that is love

That is what love asks

Love, trust,

Hold on, let go…

Heart Light

2009-10-20T12:06:00.000-05:00

One of the most precious things in my life is my daughter’s love.

It isn’t just that she is an amazing kid who has brightened my world for years.

Or that she has provided me with the challenges and lessons to fill a lifetime of text books.

It is that she is all about love. She is all about being herself. She is all about life and living as much of it as possible.

So one of the hardest things for me is to see her having a hard time with her life and all that is happening within it.

“This is hard for me.” She told me the other night.

“I am sorry. I am so sorry.” And I am. I love this child so very much that I would do all I could to protect her and keep her happy.

But that is not the hand that she has been dealt.

That is not the life contract she signed.

She will experience challenges. She will experience adversity. She is being asked to do something that she truly doesn’t want to do over and over again, and this is taking its toll.

Life is going to ask my daughter to spread her wings much sooner than I anticipated. Life is asking her to grow up in ways that other children aren’t; to deal with emotions that many adults have not faced.

And yet, my daughter is doing it with grace. She is doing it with strength.

She is learning that is weird to not say “I love you” when someone says it first – but that it is more uncomfortable to say it and not mean it.

She is learning to express her boundaries, and that staying true to herself is not only doable, but it is hard and a wonderful strength to possess.

And she is doing it while surrounded by the love of so many.

She is doing it from a stable home and with a welcoming heart waiting for her when she returns.

She is doing it with all the love and support this mom can give while still letting go and trusting… trusting in her and life itself.

My daughter is my daughter; she is a wonderful illustration of the love that she is and the mom that I am.

She held my hand as we walked “We are light. We are like the sun shining brightly.”

I couldn’t agree more – regardless of what tomorrow brings,

My daughter and I are Love!

A Week Begins

2009-10-19T10:49:00.000-05:00

The Lass is busy.

The Lass isn’t just busy, she is always on the go with her mom close behind.

“Don’t forget you have art after school.” I told her this morning before I dropped her off at school for a before school program.

“I don’t”

“Don’t forget I love you.”

“I never forget that!”

“Don’t forget, I am your biggest fan.”

“I know.” She took my hand and gave our traditional squeeze. “I love you so much.”

“And I love you twice that!”

And off she went to start another busy week.

The Simple Things

2009-09-15T10:24:00.001-05:00

My daughter and I sat together in the bar at one of the fun high tables. A candle flickered from the whipped cream that topped my bowl of strawberries. Her eyes and smile sparkled in the candle light. Having just enjoyed the wait staff singing to me, she eagerly anticipated my blowing out the candle and making a wish…

And I did.

I closed my eyes, thought long and deep, and, for the first time in years, I sincerely made a wish before I blew out the candle.

My wish came true the moment I thought it; it will continue to come true as long as it remains strong and true in my heart. It is a wish that I cherish and will for the entire year.

As we walked home in the ebbing light, we talked about wishes. The wishes that are possible; the wishes that are obtainable desires of the heart.

We talked about birthdays and the gifts received and the day that we shared.

“What was your favorite part of the day?” she asks as isn’t this what kids do?

I honestly couldn’t answer the question. The entire day unfolded into an unanticipated treat.

There were lots of hugs and cuddles, a lie in for reading, no ballet (YAY – now that was something to celebrate in itself) time spent with friends, some very nice treats and surprises, a few tears (as what is a birthday without some emotion) and then a delightful walk and dinner with my daughter.

I do believe that it was one of the most peaceful and fun birthdays I have had.

It is one I will remember for its simplicity and for all the love shared.

This birthday was a wonderful beginning to this, my 40^th year!

In the Woods

2009-09-04T07:58:00.000-05:00

The Lass is, as she proclaimed last night, a “city girl.” She is all about sidewalks and stop lights and buildings and complaining about traffic in the sense that she wishes that people would get out of their cars and walk. This is not to say that she doesn’t like being in nature as she does. We have a little wooded area behind our house that she loves. We also spent time in a real forest this past summer – she loved that too. She loves nature, but she is a self proclaimed “city girl.”

This week she attended a rock climbing camp. Most of the camp took place in the gym where everything was quite comfortable and cozy for the “city girl.” However, yesterday they went outside and truly hit the rocks.

Real rocks.

Rocks created by water and wind and thousands of years of environmental influences.

Rocks that didn’t have color coded tags pointing the climber to one path or another, but forced each climber to find the non-existent hand holds and foot placements.

One of these rock walls was 70 feet high!

The Lass… and this probably goes without saying… loved the entire day!!

She repelled down the wall faces and then did the different climbs.

She enjoyed the gorgeous day and the testing of her mind and body.

I am sure that this spider girl laughed and giggled in between her climbs.

She said that there were trick walls with little ledges and that repelling down was a tad scary at times.

She said that she “loved” it!

And then… she had to go to the bathroom.

Not seeing any bathrooms in this part of the woods, my daughter decided to try and “hold it.”

I am not sure how she focused on the climbs while having to go to the bathroom, but apparently she did.

The “city girl” finally broke down and asked “Where are the bathrooms?”

One of the other girls walked with her to a little area where the trees and bushes were a bit thicker.

“This is the bathroom?” my daughter, ever the city girl, said with great skepticism (at least she did when she told us the story at dinner)

Embarrassed as she was, she really had to go, so she did her business as quickly as possible and left. She reported that it just looked like a dog had gone – and “there were lots of dogs there.”

I am sure that I didn’t do this story justice as it was hilarious to hear her tell it. My city girl who, despite having had lots of opportunities throughout her life, has never gone to the bathroom without a toilet. She has simply refused knowing full well that there is a toilet somewhere in her near future… and she will just wait, thanks!

Yesterday the elements and the force of nature required her to bite the bullet and go where she had never gone before – to the bathroom on the ground, without toilet or paper or sink. She says that she would prefer not to do that again, thanks!

She laughed as she told the story. Papa and I laughed as she related it with such drama and animation.

Despite having to drip dry, she loved being outside and climbing. She is ready and thrilled to potentially do the camp again next summer.

I love the idea of this camp for the strategic thinking of rock climbing, the physical exertion, the sense of accomplishment, the building of self confidence, the team work required, and for the simple fact that my kid loves to climb. I figured that she would get a lot out of it – that her horizons would be expanded and that it would be a fabulous experience. I never anticipated that one of the things she would get out of it was… having to go to the bathroom outside. When she is my age and looking back on her life, I have a feeling that she will remember that moment!

A Twilight Race

2009-08-17T10:36:00.000-05:00

We glanced at the large clock mounted above the finish line - 26 minutes.

"She is on her way," I commented to the tall man standing next to me.

"Keep your eyes open.”

We watched as the sky darkened that much more. Rain drops continued falling, perhaps a bit harder than they were before.

Runners continued to speed by as the clock continued to tick. My daughter did not appear. My heart beat a little faster as I became slightly concerned. Three thousand people were running this race; and, this was the first race my daughter was running without a partner.

Her personal best time came and went setting my heart beating just a tad faster. This fast and flat course posed no challenge. Where was my kid??

My tall friend's wife and daughter ran by; my kid was not with them…

Rain continued to fall. Runners continued to pass my spot. I continued to wait.

"She is here," a voice calls from the finish line.

The Lass sees me and gives me a very wet and sweaty hug. "27.25!!” She says with a smile and a thrill of joy. She beat her personal record by over one minute. She ran by our spot at the finish line three minutes before the friends we saw. She took third in her age group and felt the excitement of running with world class runners. The smile on her face was radiant - brightening the darkening evening.

I gave her the biggest hug ever. The besting her personal record is wonderful, but the fact that she did her very best and felt that high... that is priceless.

Enter Little Lady, Stage Left

2009-08-06T10:47:00.000-05:00

A year ago the Lass cared very little about combing her hair or how she looked when we went to see a show. The idea of dressing nicely didn’t really cross her mind. She was fine with whatever she happened to be wearing at the time to the point of complaining if she was required to bath before a performance.

Oh how things have changed!

Last night we raced from summer camp to a show. We walked a few miles through the heat and humidity of a steamy summer day. On our way to the theater, we stopped and grabbed a bite to eat, slowing down for a few minutes and taking note of our appearance.

While the Lass looked cute, as usual, in jean shorts and a flowery camisole top, I needed some help. Hot and sweaty, my wet tank top, shorts, and doubled pony tail definitely didn’t leave me in a “night at the theater” kind of mood.

We ate and arrived at the theater with a few minutes to spare.

“Do you want to change in the theater itself?” I asked. We might not be wearing theater clothes, but we had them safely tucked in my bag.

“In the theater,” she declared, and we stood in line waiting for our tickets to be scanned.

“I feel really weird,” she said from the corner of her mouth. I looked at all the finely dressed men and women congregating and mingling.

“We’re fine,” I reassured her as I reflected her sentiments completely. It is not that I am uncomfortable. I could, without hesitation, take my seat in the theater and think little about the clothes I am wearing. It is just that, if I have a choice, I prefer to dress nicely for the show. It is a special event, but more than that. I feel that dressing nicely is a show of respect to those on stage and behind the scenes. They have worked very hard, looking nice is a way of showing I appreciate their efforts.

Into the bathroom we scurried.

Into our dresses.

We met in front of the mirror. She gazed at her image, examining her hair.

My hair came down in waves before the mirror while hers went back allowing her face to be high lighted by light curls.

Transformations complete, we emerged from the theater holding hands. “I feel better now,” came the voice beside me.

I smiled at the usher as we walked by on our way to the hall. I wonder what the ushers think when they see hot woman with child run into the bathroom only to have two different people emerge minutes later?

4th of July

2009-08-03T12:13:00.000-05:00

Last year our family anticipated spending the 4th of July at the Kennedy Center with a feeling of curiosity. What could we expect?

Would it, as it has in years passed, rain? What would we wear?

Should we sit outside? Will there be plenty of things to do and food to eat? We had a wonderful time despite the rain. The experience was one each of us cherished.

So when the invitation to repeat the experience arrived in the mail, I did not hesitate to respond immediately. Sure, we will be there and we will eagerly anticipate the experience.

This year the evening was... amazing. DC enjoyed a dry early summer with great weather. The show on the Mall proved entertaining for all.

The company was delightful as the Lass proved comfortable and found her feet out and about and Nonna enjoyed singing and dancing when the spirit hit.

Where people chose seats inside last year, the outside tables drew the crowds this year.

And the fireworks... amazing. It is one thing to watch fireworks from below - looking up and watching them sparkle from high in the sky. It is another experience entirely to watch them at eye level.

It came as no surprise to me when we determined that our summer would be planned in such a way that we would return to the Center next year for the 4th. it was a surprise however when Papa said that this was one of his favorite parts of the vacation. That comment alone made a return trip, and a third in our growing family tradition, a must!!

Hang Gliding

2009-08-01T17:31:00.001-05:00

Papers signed, Nonna and I dropped papa and the Lass at the shop for Flight School. All nerves seemed to have vanished as the Lass and Papa began their hang gliding adventure. While Nonna and I checked into the hotel and found a place for dinner, the two flyers learned the mechanics of their kites.
Nonna and I returned just in time to journey to the dunes with the flyers to watch and take part in the hang gliding experience. While Nonna waited in the shade, I ventured out to the dunes with papa and the lass. Given I could not participate, I wanted to be as close as possible to the action.
The hot white sands challenged us as we walked out to the dune. Heat poured for the bright sun in the clear blue sky. Although the winds kept the gliding to a minimum, I found myself feeling very thankful for them as they provided a bit of refreshment on such a hot day.
The Lass took her place beneath the kite and flew. No hesitation, no nerves, just excitement and pure joy. She laughed as she raced the instructors back up the dune time after time. She played several games on her flights and landed well each time.

She loved the experience, as did I. It is a wonderful feeling to watch her overcome her nerves to try something new. To focus, to learn, and then to take that leap trusting herself and those around her. My heart took flight and soared with her each flight. (And I have loads of pictures to prove it)

it was wonderful to see the Lass fly. She intends to do it again, but perhaps the hit of the day was Papa taking his turn and flying off the dune.
Papa proved that age doesn't matter when it comes to trying something new and taking flight. He didn't exactly race up the dunes as the Lass did, and the sand did prove to be quite the challenge as did the heat. But Papa flew. papa flew five times. he learned to focus and to relax. he learned to land the kite. He demonstrated to everyone on that dune that there is such a thing as a 61 year old kid!!
I loved the experience. My daughter testing herself and trying something new... my dad doing the same as well as showing my daughter that she will never be too old to try and to have fun. They both anticipate flying again, perhaps this time when it is a bit cooler!
Now Papa and the Lass have something beyond rock climbing, they hang glide. These two adventurers always seem to have a great time together... which leaves me wondering just what they will try next? perhaps a glider?

Friday Smiles

2009-07-17T17:58:00.000-05:00

She runs up the stairs chattering. It is Friday. It is humid. We have enjoyed our post ballet camp salads and are ready to settle in for a relaxing evening.
Then she spies it at the top of the stairs.
She sees the box lying just outside our door.
It is from Nonna. It is a box for her.
"Hel-loh Cookies!" The Lass says with a smile in her words.

Summer Vacation

2009-07-14T09:13:00.000-05:00

We had a fun filled summer vacation this past June with lots of new adventures and sites never before seen.

We started in one of our favorite vacation spots – Chincoteague. There is nothing like getting up close and personal with nature on this island. The beach is lovely. There aren’t lots of people. Best of all, this year there was very little humidity! That is something worth celebrating in itself!

Papa, the Lass and I took long morning walks along the beach giving Nonna time to relax and enjoy some personal time. We walked miles with the sand in our toes and the waves washing against our legs. There is nothing like the ocean to remind one how small we are and how large the world.

The Lass learned how to truly enjoy the waves, running along the beach, jumping and playing in them, and finding herself in love with the water. She also built a sand castle that rivaled any ever built!

We enjoyed great food, good company, and nature. The Lass even tried her hand at making homemade ice cream with the help of Nonna and Papa. Books were read, laughter was shared, and we each took a few deep breaths in an attempt to let the world stay safely behind us so that we could each relax in our own ways.

Testing her Wings

2009-07-06T14:11:00.001-05:00

We kicked off our shoes and headed to the dunes. The sand felt hot against the bottoms of our wave worn feet. Above, the sun shown brightly from a pristine blue sky making this a wonderful day for my daughter to try her hand at hang gliding.

Nerves tinged her conversation with me as she flitted and flew over the hot sand. As the crew assembled and set up the kite, she took her place amidst the kids without a second thought. When the team leader called for a volunteer to take the first flight, her hand flew into the air as if it were on wings of its own.

I had to smile. Whether it is dancing on stage or hanging from a rope feet in the air, my kid is first in line letting her love of life and experience tamper her nerves.

She hung from the rope beneath the kite.

She put her hands at the bar.

She yelled “clear” without a waver in her voice.

She took her first running steps and…

Off the dune she went!

I smiled with delight – my heart taking flight with her. Delight crossed her face as she landed, on her feet, on the sand below. Laughter bubbled forth as she raced the instructors up the dune to take her second flight.

“She looked like she loved it,” the television reporter commented.

“Oh, she did!”

For the next hour, I watched my daughter getting the feel for hang gliding. She told the reporter about her nerves, her excitement, and the joy of flight. She didn’t complain about the time between flights or engage in the criticism expressed by the boys in her group. Rather, she ran, laughed, played with the instructors, and flew!

My daughter never ceases to amaze me. My heart thrilled with her enthusiasm and her never ending determination to fly and enjoy the experience. This child teaches me so much – I wonder if all parents experience this wonder and the exchange of teaching and learning with their kids?

A few months ago I would have grabbed my mobile phone and dialed eagerly sharing this child, this love, and her experience with my best friend. I would have talked 100 miles a minute and filled his ears with my descriptions and thoughts and emotions hoping to paint him a picture of the experience unfolding in those moments. Sharing that love with my best friend always enriched the experience for me – whether it meant anything to him or not – I don’t know!

Now, as I stood on the hot sand under these gorgeous blue skies absorbing the brilliance of the sun coupled with the enthusiasm of my daughter, I felt a shiver in my heart. I can no longer pick up the phone and share this love and these experiences with my best friend; I no longer have a best friend.

I pulled the experience close around me to warm me. The realization that I no longer had a best friend with whom I could share my daughter and such moments as this rocked my world, if only for just a moment.

Right here, right now, my daughter soared down dunes. Under colorful kite wings, she experienced flight in a way that only she could.

I may have shed a few – just a few- tears… for the wonder that is my daughter, for the gift of such a wonderful experience for her and for me, for the realization that my best friend is truly no longer available to share this love with me, and for the simple beauty of life and all that awaits.

As my daughter lifted her feet to fly, we each looked to the future and all that awaits. There will be more flights, many more experiences, and much more laughter. There will be more tears as well, but like today, we will each continue to cherish each moment and live it fully – whether that is with our feet on the ground or whether we are supported by our wings!

Where Love Lives

2009-06-15T08:44:00.001-05:00

The chair back pressed against my back as the lights lowered and the performance music started. My daughter, head high and bun low, took her place before the mat. She opened the performance with the youngest dancers as she assists in the school.

As I watched, tears gathered in my eyes. Seven years ago that was my daughter - the one with the bright golden curls. She was the one without the tummy who would throw her stuffed animal up in the air whenever the chance. Now she stood in front demonstrating - seven years, a few feet taller, a lot wiser, and just as beautiful.

Other dancers moved into center stage. Dancers that I have watched through the years. dancers who's parents have now become my friends and support network. These dancers, this studio, so much of my life experienced in these rooms.

My daughter entered again. No longer is she demonstrating barre work, now she is with her class in the center of the floor. She jumps with grace and poise. She smiles, completely focused on the movements over the audience. To think that a few years ago she was focused on me.

Waving to mamma in the audience as discreetly as possible. Looking anxious when she couldn't find me and yet, in her heart she always

knew I was there

. I was there. I was at each performance and every event…

I bite my lower lip to keep the tears from falling. My heart hurts with love as I watch her living her passion and enjoying her dance.

Sunday I will miss the one and only performance I will ever miss. Sadness wells. I know that it is the right decision; it is a gift

for her and her dad, one that I will not consider changing.

She dances her way across the stage and through my heart and memories.

She is the child with the underwear peaking from beneath her uniform or the one that will trip - you just know it. She is the one with the smile and the giggle just waiting for an excuse to bubble forward.

She is the dancer with the curls escaping from her bun. That dancer that jumps as if she can reach the stars without much effort.

I smile at her and lightly wave as the seat she has selected for me is as in front of her as one can get. Tomorrow, while I sit with friends talking and trying not to think of what I am missing, her dad will sit in this seat watching our daughter perform for the first time. He too will fight back tears - tears of pride and joy in watching this gorgeous spirit and all that she has accomplished.

While memories of her past performances and her growth flit and skip across the stage of my mind, he will realize how much of a life and of a love that he has missed; how much of a life and a love that is lost to the past. We both will sit in this same chair, on different days, and consider this child, this love of ours, and the role of her in each of our lives in the future.

I breathe deeply and give thanks for this amazing day and the child before me - and her dad for his role in her creation. I silently thank those who sit with me and stand beside me in this room and in our lives. Though her dad has no idea of the community he will enter on Sunday, I am aware of all that they give to me, to our daughter, and to him. While he feels nervous and alone, he will have no idea as to the love and support that surrounds him in this room, these walls, and from these people... from our daughter and me to her instructors, to the friends and family that make up this tiny piece of the ballet world.

What We Teach Grows Stronger Within Us

2009-06-02T10:43:00.000-05:00

“Remember, people can love one another and never see each other. They can not live together, not talk, not be a part of one another’s lives… and still love one another very much. Love is something that we give freely. No expectations. Love is just… love.” This is what I told my daughter last night as tears streamed down both our cheeks.

Our conversation moved from topic to topic before I brought it back to the original, just to impress the idea of love knowing no restrictions in her mind. I continued, “Love is…”

She interrupted “I know, I know. Love is unconditional and we give it without ever expecting anything in return.”

I had to smile. Have I brainwashed my daughter or what!

I Had to Laugh

2009-05-27T12:06:00.001-05:00

“How do kittens form?”

This question came from out of the blue. I sat, speechless, trying to figure out just what this child was asking.

“What do you mean?”

“The body parts don’t go together. Do the cats lie next to each other?”

Ahha… the mechanics of mating is something that I have not yet addressed with my daughter. She has a working understanding of biology, the difference between boys and girls, and the development of a baby. She even understands the biology behind sperm and eggs and all that. But the mechanics… we have not gone there yet nor has her book.

Admittedly, I have never seen cats mate. I know, it is a gap in my education and knowledge base, but I grew up with fixed cats, mostly all males, and they just didn’t do anything that would allow me to have a glimpse of the process.

Fortunately, I also grew up with male dogs!! Dogs have no problem demonstrating the method animals use to make babies… whether it is with another dog, a leg, a chair… whatever. They go at it whenever the urge hits.

So I explained... using known cats as examples (Phoenix being a male and Doodles being a female)

“You know when Phoenix attacksDoodles and gets on top of her?”

“yes,”

“Well, he is trying to make kittens.”

“Oh…”

And that, my friends, was the end of that conversation. No deflection just a straight forward answer and a deep sigh of relief on my part.

The next evening, as I stood making tea in the kitchen, I hear her exclaim, loudly, to the cat… “Phoenix, No Kittens!’

I lost it! I have to admit that I needed to laugh and I just… lost it!

Happy Mother's Day

2009-05-08T08:51:00.000-05:00

Ah… Mother’s Day…

The day when mothers around the US are treated to breakfast in bed, or brunches with family, or days off with friends. It is the day when moms dream of having free choice as to how they spend the day…

This Mother’s day, in Virginia, is predicted to be the nicest day in over a week. It is to be sunny!! Sunny!!! (That was worth saying twice with great enthusiasm)

I had great plans for Mother’s Day this year. The plan was… to do nothing!

That’s right, pretty much nothing was planned. For the first week in forever, we had nothing planned. I thought it would be nice to sleep in, take a nice walk to brunch, enjoy the great weather, and spend time with my daughter. I also thought a few hours of quiet where we do our own things would be nice too.

Sigh…

As of early this morning, my Mother’s Day is going to start at 6:30 in the morning. Yes, that’s right. I said, 6:30 in the morning. What happened to relaxing and sleeping in?

I am asking myself that same question.

What happened was a child who has fallen in love with the 5K race. What happened was a race in the area first thing Sunday morning.

So while mothers everywhere will be choosing what they do for the day, I will be up just after the sun and preparing my daughter for a 5K race that she is determined to win. Forget this race for fun stuff… she knows there are medals!

After the race, I will participate in a “dash.”

That’s right folks, I am expected to “dash” on Mother’s Day.

I quickly informed the mother with whom we are entertaining these activities that I do not “Dash” (especially on the first nice weekend day or on Mother’s day) I saunter. Perhaps I will mosey, but I do not “dash.”

All of this should be complete by noon. That leaves me time to sit back, relax, have a Mother’s Day pizza (you celebrate your way, I will celebrate mine) and read a book or two.

Sigh…

But that is not going to happen either. After this wonderful race and then my “dash,” I will be enjoying some quick pasta before setting out to watch a children’s play in Maryland.

Is it my imagination or does it appear that my “Mother’s day” has become more about my daughter?

That is how it looks to me as I reread what I have written.

So much for my big 2cd Sunday in May plans. There won’t be any sleeping in. The relaxation will be minimal. Books completed… well, that will be zero…

It might not be the Mother’s Day I had not planned, but I have a feeling that it is going to be absolutely delightful! After all, my daughter is the blessing that makes me a mother. Without her, I would just be… not me! So together we will celebrate Mother’s Day and the delight that each of us brings to the lives of the other.

“Saturday is your Mother’s Day.” The child chimed in this morning.

“I can celebrate Mother’s day by buying you shoes?”

“You can buy you some shoes too!”

I smiled and laughed, pulling her to me I told her, “Every day is…”

And she said with me “Mother’s day.”

“Because I get to share my days with you,” I finished. And it is so very true.

Have a wonderful and love filled Mother’s Day!

The Race

2009-05-05T08:26:00.001-05:00

Protein drink inhaled, hair French braided, race clothes on, and shoe laces tied, she bounded down the front stairs ready for the race.

At the race site she found her best friend (who was running with her dad) and a few other friends. All were excited; all anticipated a good run. Running on pure excitement and energy, she cartwheel, chatted, walked, paced, and anticipated 8:30 – race time.

The moment finally arrived. She lined up behind the line with her partner. The goal, finish in the top 10 from her group or best her time from the previous Monday. “I am just running for fun.” She reminded me minutes before she took her place.

The horn blew.

Tears filled the corners of my eyes. It is such a feeling to see a child doing what they love.

The race began!

While I made my way through the parking lot, contemplated getting a cup of copy, and finally found a place near the finish line, she ran.

She ran with her buddy up the hills and down a few. They ran across streets. At one point she broke away from her partner and started running on her own.

After 30 minutes and 25 seconds, my daughter crossed the finish line. She finished her first official 5K on a hilly course on a cool morning in May. She bested her personal time by 2 minutes. She ran strong throughout the race.

When the race finished, the times were calculated. She finished in the top 10 of her group – she finished in 5^th place, missing a medal by seconds.

Talk about a happy kid!! Running for fun is that much more fun when you accomplish as much as she did!

What about mom? Mom was thrilled too! Thrilled that the race was over, thrilled that she made it and accomplished her realistic goals, and thrilled because the kid was so thrilled.

The story, however, was not complete.

After the dance performance later that afternoon, I discovered tat my daughter is someone who will continually amaze me. I had a chance to speak to the mother of my daughter’s best friend – the friend that ran with her dad earlier that morning. She told me the rest of the story.

After she ran her race, after she took a breath and a quick rest, my daughter ran back to finish the race with her best friend.

Corndogs!

2009-04-21T09:00:00.000-05:00

“How was your day?” I ask my daughter as she gets off the bus and we begin our two mile walk home. We are trying to walk more than 160 miles in an 8 week period for school.

“Good and bad.”

“What happened? Tell me the bad first.”

She explains that another child won the honor of having lunch with a visiting author, something she truly wanted to do. We talk about it for a while and then she pipes up.

“But the good thing was that we had Corndogs for lunch!”

Sometimes it truly is the little things that brighten our days.

Different Ways of Expressing

2009-04-14T12:28:00.001-05:00

Over spring break, my daughter decided that we needed to read, aloud, a chapter of a book together. She would read; I would listen. The book she picked was the third in the Wedding Planner’s Daughter series.

Last night, as I sought relaxation and quiet in the bath tub, she picked up the book to read our chapter. The first sentence of the chapter caught my attention. The author started the chapter with an interestingly phrased description of anxiety or nervousness. The modifier followed the noun it was describing and ended the sentence.

I stopped the reading. “Is there another way you could say that?”

She looked at the sentence and changed the words demonstrating comprehension of the idea expressed.

“Right, but using the same words, could you express the same idea in a different manner?”

She moved the modifier in front of the noun.

“Which sounds better to you?”

Given my daughter’s love of writing and language, this was a fun exercise for her. In the past two months she has engaged in several discussions with her teacher about sentence structure and style with the teacher attempting to find a means of demonstrating how things can sound better when stated one way using the same basic wording.

We discussed the sentence a bit more and then moved on.

An hour later – and the chapter wasn’t that long – we had discussed the short sentence structure, where commas could have been used to link ideas, and the reasons that some books use shorter sentences.

“I would think that the book you just finished, the one about the girl named Disaster, had a different sentence structure used with more commas and such.”

“I didn’t notice.”

I have a strange feeling that she will start noticing the different ways that the authors choose to express their ideas through sentence structure after our conversation.

An hour, just one hour, and she started seeing books a bit differently.

It's Magic

2009-04-07T07:53:00.002-05:00

The theater began to fill. Slowly, children of all ages, took their seats. Chattering and babbling, parents read the play bill aloud, children squirmed, and everyone waited for the show to begin.

Then the lights dimmed. The lights dimmed and the laughter began. For an hour, the child behind me laughed; he laughed from the depth of his being. My daughter joyfully clapped and laughed from her seat next to me, shouting out whenever possible.

“Do you have any idea what is happening on stage?” my daughter asked.

“No” I had given our great seats for Sunday to friends so that my kid could attend her best friend’s birthday party. We then had to take tickets for the Saturday evening show with seats 14 rows up and back.

“But you are laughing?”

I was laughing. My heart felt as light as air as I listened to the magic of the children and adults laughing. For an hour, everyone in the room let go; everyone seemed to sit back, relax, and enjoy the antics of the silent clown on stage.

The sound of my daughter’s laughter and delight coupled with the child behind me… magic.

When people say that they don’t believe in magic, I want to ask them to consider the world in which they live. Magic is everywhere – starting with the joy of a child’s laugh and ending with the light of the moon and the stars reminding us of the wonders we can’t see.

Magic is the color of the butterfly, the glimpse of a rainbow, the smile of a dog, the purr of a cat, and the feel of a hug.

Magic isn’t about wizardry and witchcraft… it is about the delight and the mystery that life offers.

Monday Bliss

2009-04-02T12:20:00.000-05:00

The sun shone brightly Monday as the Lass got off the school bus. She smiled as she took my hand. After a week of car rides and walkers, we had returned to our normal routine.

Her hand in mine, we began our journey home.

“It feels good to walk,” I tell her.

“It felt good to ride the bus and now to walk.” She responded “No more walkers and car rides.”

We laughed, chatted, and played all the way home – enjoying every moment of the sun, the blue skies, and the exercise.

The Birthday Party

2009-04-01T10:55:00.001-05:00

“What time will I leave?” She asks as her best friend’s birthday party was Sunday afternoon.

”At 11:15”

”That means I only get to spend 2 hours with you.”

”That’s right...”

I do my thing, she does hers. We share a house, a space, a silence. After the pace of the last few days, it is nice for us to be together
but not.”

“They’re here!” she calls from upstairs. Within seconds I hear the clatter of feet on stairs. Before I can blink, she is sorting through shoes by the front door. She grabs her summer shoes and is out the door - shoes in hand. I trail behind with swimming bag and birthday gift.

Without a second glance, she is off. I am able to grab her attention long enough to hand her the swimming bag. The dad takes the birthday gift from my hand.

They are gone.

I wave from the door in hopes that she will see me and know that I hope she has a wonderful time... but then again, I know she will!

I return to the house to settle in for a quiet day with open windows and “the Full Monty.”

Thank You SOL!

2009-03-31T11:38:00.003-05:00

My eyes open to a bright day with no wind.
Dizziness gone, I run through the day at hand. It is Tuesday, the day our week usually begins in full. It is a day about ballet and homework. A day about conversations and work, and fitting in together time and free time with all that is required before lights out and bed.
My daughter’s Flapper dress hangs on the door. Smiling I anticipate the upcoming weekend with our tickets to Chicago (to which she will wear her Flapper dress) and the beginning of spring break.
I grab the freshly washed tights and ballet uniform from their hanger on the door frame, and our day begins.
Bags packed, breakfast eaten, word games played, spring weather enjoyed, I now sit in my office.
Words are slow in coming as I prepare this final Slice in March and the Slice of Life Challenge.

Both a challenge and a pleasure, I have drafted daily slices for each day of March. I have taken a life that I view as a whole and broken it into slices.

Slices…

A glimpse of a life and a family as seen through a crack in the curtain or in passing on the street.
A slice of my thinking, my morning, a night with my daughter, or a conversation.
A slice captured in words

A slice that I didn’t fully appreciate until I accepted the challenge to write.

A Dizzy Morning

2009-03-30T09:46:00.002-05:00

Right, left, right, left

My feet move down the road. I can’t stop; I must keep moving.

Right, left, right, left

Monday morning, daughter at school, on my way to work

Right, left, right, left

Step, step, step… I feel the worn leather beneath my toes.

I hope the cool morning will clear my head.

Stay focused, one foot in front of the other. Eyes trained on everything and yet nothing.

Right, left, right, left

The wind blows, chilling my bare toes. I pull my hands up into my sweatshirt and remain focused upon my steps.

Don’t stop. Keep walking. Perhaps the dizziness will disappear. Perhaps it won’t catch up with me.

Right, left, right, left

Thoughts circle through my mind

Cars wiz by on the roads, everyone in a hurry to get somewhere as fast as possible.

Birds sing.

Two Canadian geese fly together, talking. I look up to watch them pass.

I note the new blossoms on the trees; blossoms that weren’t there days ago.

Right, left, right, left

I cross roads, climb stairs, turn corners… just don’t stop. Just keep walking.

Mist

2009-03-29T07:40:00.004-05:00

She stands before me, hood up, hair over an eye... silent.
I say good-bye to all and we are walking down the stairs. The mist
gathers around us turning the world to a mysterious place lacking the
luster and shine that often greets us on a weekend afternoon.
"How was ballet?" I ask, knowing that something is off and yet, given
her sadness at my parents departure, I am not sure if it is a
lingering sadness or something different.
"Good."
The monosyllable answer tells me nothing and yet everything.
"Are you okay?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
In my house, in our relationship, this is a perfectly okay answer. It
allows distance, privacy, and time to come to terms with whatever is
happening.
"Okay, but I need to know a few things. Are you hurt?"
"No."
"Did someone hurt you?"
"No"
"Would I be upset?"
"No."
"Did you get into trouble?"
"No, but I said I don't want to talk about it."
We walk on. I know that I have to let it go, and let her decide when
she is ready to talk. I know that she will tell me when she is ready;
she will talk when things have settled. I have to trust that, if it
were something significant, she would tell me.
In silence, we walk. Through the mist we walk. The day, the mist,
the gray sky around us...the world reflects her feelings and fills my
heart with a touch of wonder - I wonder if this child knows how much I
love her and how wonderful I believe her to be?

Nonna and Papa Leave

2009-03-28T08:23:00.002-05:00

She lays in bed, dressed, but not willing to start the morning. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she clings to her stuffed dog. The time is nearing for Nonna and papa to leave.
A quick conversation with Nonna - she is out the door for breakfast (dog in hand)
Back from breakfast, Nonna and Papa grab their bags, give hugs, and are on their way back to Arizona.
She comes to me in tears, in need of a hug, a back rub, and comfort.
Three months seems like a very long time between visits.
It has been a nice visit with Nonna and Papa for their spring break!

Preparing for the Season

2009-03-27T06:45:00.002-05:00

"You look young in that." My daughter pipes from beside me as we both examine the fit of the swimming suit in my bathroom mirror.

"I do?"

"Yes,, your back is bare."

"Yes it is. And that makes me look young?" I could care less about the back as I examine just how plunging the front appears.

"Why do you need a suit anyway. You don't swim."

She is right as I gave up swimming when she started swimming with friends. The pool became a kid zone - not big enough for adults and shreaking, splashing, tag playing, racing, and handstanding kids.

"I don't swim, but I need to be prepared in case I want to!"

Annual Check-up

2009-03-26T07:32:00.003-05:00

She types her name into the computer and checks in. My daughter is ready to hear her name called for her annual check-up.
Ever inquisitive, the child has never disliked the doctor. This time, however, she is dreading the words she knows she will hear… “chicken pox booster.” She has been thinking about little else, in her free time, for the past few weeks. Shots are just not her thing.
Her name is called. Together we walk to the room and the check-up begins.
“55 inches” the nurse tells her.
My daughter glows. She has grown her annual two inches.
“66 pounds” the nurse states.
“Really?” I am constantly amazed at my daughter’s weight as she is heavier than she looks.
“She isn’t a baby anymore,” the nurse tells me.
No she isn’t , I think to myself.
BMI number found, blood pressure taken, eyes quickly tested. We are back in the room with my daughter in her backless gown and the doctor chatting about eating out, healthy foods, too much TV etc.
My daughter answers questions, touches her toes, and breathes deeply. She asks the doctor about the state of the umbilical chord that connected my body to hers. “Is it still there? What happened to it”
And then, “Can your bottom go numb?”
The doctor is fabulous. She answers questions and gently moves through the examination without causing any pain or stress.
As the doctor fills out her paperwork, my daughter dresses.
“it appears that you need a chicken pox booster.”
The dreaded words have been stated. My daughter starts to whine. “Get me out of here. I don’t want a shot”
This brave kid who thinks nothing of standing on a tiny peg at 42 feet begins to hyperventilate as she sits on my lap. The needle is in the near future; a shot will happen; her worst fears have been realized.
The doctor leaves.
The nurse returns.
On my lap, my daughter's muscles stiffen as the nurse cleans the area to receive the needle.
My daughter goes stiff. Her neck is tight as she refuses to look away from the cleaned skin.
I feel for her. No one likes a shot. I have done my fair share of fainting after a shot, but enough is enough.
“This is going to happen.” I tell her. “You will have this shot. We don’t want to bring in more people to restrain you.”
She buries her head against my shoulder.
I start to count in Spanish, and the shot is over before I reach five.
“It hurt.” She says as she stands up and I thank the nurses for their patience. I can tell my daughter is a bit stunned at the lack of pain she is feeling. The entire incident was a tad anticlimactic.
We leave the doctor – our annual visit complete.
“I did my best,” she calls from the backseat.
I have to admit, she did a good job. We left with a clean bill of health, the shot drama was less than it could have been, and she ran 2.25 miles before the doctor’s appointment.

Tag

2009-03-25T10:52:00.002-05:00

We start our walk to the museum. My daughter immediately finds her way to the brick wall, climbs up, and begins her balancing act. When one wall ends, she finds another until there is no more wall on which to walk.
Then it is…
“Tag” my daughter giggles, laughs, and runs down the sidewalk. She is playing with the 61 year old kid behind me – my Dad.
The two of them weave through people as they attempt to play this odd, two person, game of tag.
My Mom and I, the adults, walk and chat in front of the laughter.
The fresh air, the mild temperatures, the sun, and the exercise will do us all some good.

Books, Laughter, Friends, and Winn-Dixie

2009-03-24T08:33:00.001-05:00

For my daughter’s 9^th birthday (which was last Christmas) we elected to have a spring fling at the rock wall climbing gym. In lieu of gifts, girls brought a wrapped copy of their favorite paperback book.
The girls sat in a large circle on the floor. Each held a brightly wrapped copy of a favorite and enjoyed book.
Nonna began to read the “Left/Right” story. As she read, the girls listened carefully. They passed right when they heard the word “right/write” and left when they heard “left.” They giggled as they heard their names included in the tailored version of the story. When the story ended, they excitedly tore into their gift…
“I’ve read this one.”
“I got this one!”
“Can we trade?”
Books moved from hand to hand as some traded and others watched -- each book finding a wonderful home with an excited child.
One child did not offer her book for trade. She looked at the title of the book. She put the book back in the gift bag. The gift bag remained held tightly in her hand throughout the remainder of the party. She wanted to keep that book.
I noted the bag in her hand, its bright spring flowers caught my eye as I had attempted to find the perfect presentation for my daughter’s all time favorite paperback – Because of Winn-Dixie.
Knowing the book held within the bag, I asked “Do you have that book?”
“No”
“Have you read it?”
“No”
“It is an amazing book. I am sure you will enjoy it.”
I smiled to myself as we left the party. The girls had fun. They each received a new book to read that another of their friends loved. I was not walking out the door with armfuls of toys and games that would now be sharing my home…Mostly, I love the idea of sharing good books. The idea that some of these girls might be reading books previously unread or unknown…
And that Winn-Dixie would touch another heart and bring laughter to another child…

On Rock Climbing

2009-03-23T08:52:00.002-05:00

The girls gathered around in their harnesses and helmets. Each listened with ranging levels of excitement and anxiety. Although most of the group had traversed a low, horizontal, rock wall in PE, only a few had experienced a vertical wall.

“Who is ready to climb?”

My daughter succeeded in being the first out the door. She loves to climb. Not all the participants were as enthusiastic, but they all made their way to the beginner walls.

Three walls. Eleven girls took turns climbing. 3 coaches encouraged each girl.

Eleven girls moved to the higher walls. Eleven girls never gave up. They moved up. They climbed until they were ready to stop on that climb. They moved to another wall or to another line. They kept climbing. They kept trying. They kept succeeding.

One girl nearly didn’t come. Her mom was very concerned that the child would not climb. That due to her inability to pull her weight up with her arms, she would either not try, not climb, or not have fun.

But, the child came. The child not only came to the party, but she excitedly hit the wall and did not give up. She did not make it to the top, but she made it a little higher each time.

The child beamed when she told me “I made it higher that time!”

This is what teachers and parents love seeing – Perhaps this is one of those little moments that makes it all worth while. The little steps; the little successes. It is a wonderful feeling to see someone go beyond expectations (those of others or their own).

Success is something that is measured differently by different people. My daughter is goal oriented. Success is achieving a goal for her. For me, success is doing one’s best. It is getting a bit higher up the wall each time. Success is trying and moving forward – it is that feeling that comes when progress is made; when another step in the journey has been taken.

I am so very proud of this child; but mostly, I am thrilled that she is proud of herself for all that she accomplished!

A Season to Anticipate

2009-03-22T17:00:00.002-05:00

"It's an emergency" Kramer, from Seinfeld, exclaims from my computer thus announcing the arrival of an e-mail.
Out of habit, I open the e-mail. There are only a few minutes before I need to meet the school bus, but I have to see who this is from and what it is about.
I smile and read. It is the preview of the upcoming theater/event schedule. The news can lift my spirts on any given day as it gives me something to anticipate. And next year's schedule is exciting. From May Poppins to Young Franckenstine and dance groups from all over the world, I am already marking dates in my calendar.
The phone rings. The caller talks. I read, my thoughts lost in the sounds of the orchestra and the magic of theater craft.
The call ends, I am changed and out the door anxious to tell my daughter about the upcoming events. Thankful that I have a child who will share the excitement with me 100%!

Morning Chat

2009-03-21T09:14:00.001-05:00

I cherish the morning conversations with my daughter. When she entered her current school, she had the option to ride the bus. She requested that we walk the mile instead. She cherishes our walks too.
"Happy Spring Mamma"
"Happy Spring," I say in return. We are both huddled into our sweatshirts as we walk through the neighborhood toward school. The day is gorgeous, the birds are singing, and the wind is quite cold and blowing.
"It is spring, and it is cold. But it is spring. Now, on those warm days, I don't have to remind myself that it is winter. I don't have to say, 'It is warm, but it is winter!'"
We walk a bit further.
"I can't wait until Nonna and Papa get here."
"Where do you want to go for dinner?"
"What? Wait? What time are they coming?"
"Around 2. Do you want to ride the bus or be a walker?"
She considers carefully, "Bus, and you can choose for dinner as I have been choosing a lot."
"I have to write another myth."
"Why?"
"Ms. T says that she doesn't want me to be bored while everyone else is finishing their myths. I get to write another."
"What are you going to write about?"
"I don't know"
"What about Medusa?"
"She is in one book. She has her head cut off."
"Yes, but you could write about her before she has her head cut off."
"No. They have to be heroes."
"Couldn't she have done something heroic in her childhood? Maybe she saved an island from sea monsters?"
"Everyone is writing about sea monsters! I am the only one not writing about a sea monster. I could write about Hades. I could look him up in the book."
"Yes."
"Hades is Zero in Roman mythology. Isn't that funny. Zero. I could write about Hades and Medusa"
We arrive at school. Our conversation, as usual, has involved so many topics. I can't wait to read her next myth.

It's Started with a Giggle

2009-03-20T08:16:00.002-05:00

“Whatcha doing” my daughter said in a sing songy voice as she squirted ketchup on her hotdogs.

“Eatin’ chocolate” her dad chimed from the other side of the bar as he awaited the ketchup bottle.

“Where’d you get it” the child next to me finished with the ketchup

“Doggie left it” came the response from her dad

She is giggling.

He is chuckling.

“That’s enough. I don’t want to hear anymore right now. I am eating.” I say as I take a bite of my sandwich (that doesn’t not include a hotdog or ketchup)

She giggles.

He chuckles.

I am doing my best not to look at either one of them. I am trying to focus on chewing and enjoying my food.

She giggles more.

He chuckles more.

I find myself giggling around my food. Attempting to contain it just made it that much worse.

Within minutes we are all laughing – really and truly laughing.

Similar Yet Different

2009-03-19T09:33:00.002-05:00

“I have your nose” my daughter says as she dips her bread into the olive oil at breakfast.

“I know.” I don’t know how many times I have heard her say this. She even told her best friend that one could tell we were related via our noses.

I am attempting to get her to move a bit faster this morning as Spanish class awaits. “You do not have my sense of timing though.” The child is usually a tad on the late side.

“No, I have Daddy’s sense of that!”

En Garde

2009-03-18T10:13:00.005-05:00

A statement is made.

Eyes sparkling, I send back a related statement playing on words – filled with double entendre.
“En garde”
A smile echoes my own and my parry is met.
The round has begun.
A smile and a sparkle of the eyes precede the return of a statement equally as ripe with possibilities for word play.
Swords clicking and the fanciest of footwork displayed, we move back and forth through the world of words, meanings, and mental connection. Sparks fly as the tempo increases – one line statements fly.
Parry, thrust, retreat…
A weakness is identified. I can win this match. I lunge and thrust…
Only to find that, what I thought was without response, did, in deed, have a response.
I return to my corner to change strategies; to posture and identify my next move. “Ah ha” I thrust…
There is no return statement.
I am left, a bit sadly, deflated.
Banter… the play on words, the mental connection, the spirited one line statements most often between men and women…
Banter, like a round of fencing, it is about mental jousts and parries. It is about thrusts and retreats.
Like a fencing round, at some point, it ends – but only for the moment. The chance will arise to match wits once again.

“En garde”

The Pout

2009-03-17T10:32:00.003-05:00

The pout begins as we are approaching the halfway point to ballet. Lower lip out, my daughter is upset that I have reminded her about the rules of the sidewalk – merge right when someone approaches and do not ask them to walk between two people or push them off into the grass. These are rules she knows; they are boundaries she is testing.

We near ballet. I know that this attitude can not continue. With this attitude she is not focused. She is busy feeling raw and emotional about something that is in the past.

I stop walking in the parking lot, as I always do, and watch as she continues to the high metal stairs.

She is silent. She has not spoken a word.

“I love you sweetie. I love you too, Mamma.”

I am talking to myself as if we are calling to one another as we do when she is cheerful and ready to focus.

“Have a good class. I will.”

She nears the top of the stairs and is ready to open the door. She has not yet said a word.

“Do your best. I will.”

Friends approach the bottom of the stairs preparing to climb. The adult of the pair is chuckling. “She will” she calls to me. Having raised 4 daughters of her own, she knows what is going on.

“See you after class sweetie,” I call to the bun and the ballet bag as they disappear through the door. I then smile and shake my head as our friends climb. “Have a good class.”

I turn to run errands. I hope that she is able to focus and get the job done. I hope that she is able to enjoy the class.

Morning Journey

2009-03-16T11:27:00.002-05:00

We burst through the front door on this mild Monday morning. Pavement wet, we begin the mile walk to school. We are running late for 5K training, but neither of us seems to think that much about it as the conversation begins to flow.
The birds seem to be everywhere filling the air with happy and joyful chirps. We even hear our first “thack” as stated by the bird we have lovingly nicknamed the mad bird.

We laugh and chat as we cross the street and make our way across the creek into the next neighborhood. Gone is the “thack” of our mad bird friend to be replaced by the “knock, knock, knock” of the woodpeckers.
“I am a running machine!” my daughter informs me. “You know that.” She explains the training philosophy she is using with her best friend who has joined her in 5K training for the spring race. “My legs hurt last night because they just need to get up and move.” She does a few jumps to illustrate her point.
Half way through the walk, “Want to try that tricky multiplication fact now?”
“Yes,” she had trouble with this one on Friday.
“9 X 7”
“64”
“Is that your final answer?”
“63”
“Yes. Good job. So 1/7 of 63 would be?”
No hesitation, “9!”
“And 25 is ¼ of what number?”
She thinks as she walks. Having misunderstood the question, she is attempting to work out the number that, when multiplied by 4 would equal 25. I restate the question and a light bulb shines brightly from above her head. “100!”
The conversation turns to the very well loved state of her stuffed dog, more running theories, and muffins. We round the corner to the school to find, via a quick time check, that we are 10 minutes late. At the front stairs she runs in…”Bye Mamma.”
“Have a good run sweetie. See you at the bus stop.” I wait until the front doors close behind her before turning for the rest of my journey to work. 1 mile down, 1 mile to go.

Irony

2009-03-15T18:25:00.004-05:00

I sit at the computer playing Word Twist. I am, if truth be told, addicted to this game on Facebook. I click to play another game noting that it is nearing 9 and I have to shower before we are picked up to catch the train into the city for two shows.

The clothes are safely in the dryer. I know it won't take long to shower. My ride to the train is notoriously fifteen minutes late... I am safe to play a few more rounds if not a few more games.
The phone rings.
"I am early, are you ready to go?"
The next twenty minutes are spent showering, discovering that the clothes in the dryer are not yet dry, finding different clothes, getting my daughter out the door, and getting me out the door.
Perfect irony, I think as I take my seat in the car to ride to the train station. The one day he is on time is the day I anticipate and plan around his being 15 minutes late!

Taste of Summer

2009-03-14T16:18:00.003-05:00

I examine the contents of my kitchen hoping to find something to eat before my daughter and I leave for ballet. Nothing strikes me as interesting. Nothing seems overly appetizing for breakfast. Yet, I know that I must eat.
Then I spy the vine tomatoes. I know that there is a ciabatta just waiting to be eaten... and there ismozzarella calling my name from its hiding place.
Within moments I have toasted the bread, sliced the cheese and the tomatoes. I have drizzled a little olive oil and sprinkled a bit of salt. A bit unorthodox? I don't care. The flavors blend so amazingly well reminding me of hot summer days and filling my body with a sense of satisfaction.
Summer and warm weather are still weeks away (as the weather outside reminded me not so gently) but in my kitchen, this morning, the warmth of the sun touched my skin as the flavors of summer lifted my spirits.

Observation Day

2009-03-13T09:46:00.002-05:00

Parents shuffle feet, take seats on uncomfortable slats of painted wood that are meant to be seats, and excitedly await the invitation to enter the studio and find a place from which they can observe their dancers. I am one of these parents.
I do not notice the ever present dust on the lobby floor nor do I pay much attention to the chatter of those around me. I am here for one reason, to watch my daughter do her exercises.
Pins and needles. I am on pins and needles as I wait for the observation to begin. Reflecting back, I have watched ballet classes in this studio for over 7 years. I have seen my daughter move from tiny dancer in ruffled socks throwing her stuffed animal to semi-serious student in ribbon shoes and tights being touched to perfection by her instructor. I have witnessed the strict nature of the school first hand; and I have cringed when this strictness has touched my daughter. Through it all, I have witnessed the building of beauty – beauty of the art, beauty of the music, beauty of the ever passionate dancer’s spirit.
I sat and observed as the instructor moved from dancer to dancer at the bar. She corrected positions, moved feet, and gave guidance. The longer I sat, the more I noticed the sensitivity of my nerves. I clasp my hands. I felt the slightest trembling in my legs. Would my daughter make it through this class without the strict touch of perfection I am used to seeing? Would the teacher guide by her giving silent approval of her movements and techniques? I think this hour is one of the most nerve-racking hours for me… not for my daughter, but for me.
But the highlight came toward the end of class. My daughter did so very well throughout the beginning (which was a highlight within itself) and then…the real highlight.
Today I watch my daughter do her first public exercise on pointe. The class exercised on pointe for just ten minutes, but it was a wonderful ten minutes.
The dancers took their bows and returned to the dressing room to change. The parents sat in the studio to ask questions and chat with the instructor. I physically relaxed. My daughter, my little girl who has spent much of her life studying ballet, my little girl who spends her free time dancing with the butterflies, did her best. I survived another observation day and my daughter shone with true effort and focus.

She did her best…

Crunch

2009-03-12T10:40:00.002-05:00

I sit craving a Crunch. Last week I had a Crunch and loved it. It was the first full sized Crunch I have had in years. The idea of having another has popped into my head now and again.

And now, I want one.

I really want a Crunch. The taste of the chocolate and the toasted rice… yum...

I ignore the desire to find money and run downstairs. It is a candy bar. I do not need a candy bar. There is plenty of food to eat that is not candy.

But we aren’t talking candy; we are talking the crispy fun of a Crunch.

I give in. I find some dollar bills and make my way down 12 flights of stairs to the little store in the lobby of my building. I hit the candy aisle. I look and look for the Crunch. I know it is here. I am sure it is just where I am looking; right in front of my nose. I look. I methodically go through each shelf. I look in boxes and at the front of the boxes.

No Crunch!

I am here, I want something, now what to get?

My mind is blank. I wanted the toasted rice snap with the chocolate found in a Crunch.

I settle for a Twix. I love Twix, but today I wanted a Crunch.

I walk back up the 12 flights of stairs. Today just isn’t my day.

For Just An Hour

2009-03-11T11:52:00.003-05:00

The warm water ran through my hair as I sat, eyes closed, in the chair enjoying the feel of the hands massaging my scalp. Despite it being mid morning, the salon seemed fairly quiet. I physically relaxed. The water and shampoo washed away the world. For the next hour, nothing would exist beyond the clipping of scissors, the blowing of hair dryers, and the feeling of being completely pampered. For an hour, for just this hour, I could clear my mind and let the world spin around me as I lavished in each silent and stress free minute.

Superman is Not Real

2009-03-10T13:00:00.002-05:00

My 9 year old stands before the bathroom mirror examining her stomach. I am not sure if she is similar to other girls her age, but my daughter is very aware of her body. Perhaps this is a product of years spent studying the Vaganova method of ballet? Or maybe it is just her.

“Superman is not real.”

I have no idea what she is on about this time. I just know that she needs to be getting ready over flexing and such in the mirror. “No, he is not real.”

“Want to know how I can tell?”

Now this promises to be good. I bite back a few comments – because he is in movies and/or is drawn with pen and ink? Because he can fly? Because he has powers a human just doesn’t. Instead, I indicate that yes, I would like to know why.

“Look at my stomach.” She flexes her stomach muscles. “See the way I am standing?”

“Yes”

“For Superman to have the stomach muscles they show him with, he would have to stand like this all the time. He doesn’t stand like this all the time.”

“You’re right. He flies and such.”

“Yes, they draw him with his arms out like this… See, you can’t see my stomach muscles.”

I have no idea where she comes up with these thoughts and ideas. She continued her flexing as she got ready. I resumed the ever present dialog in my mind… Is this really my kid??

U2 Starts Our Monday

2009-03-09T10:40:00.002-05:00

I chatter to the cat as the clock hits 7:00, the magic waking hour my daughter must observe during the school week. “Up, up… your shorts and shirt are right here with a sweatshirt.”
There is no movement from the bed. The covers remain completely still.
“Up… you need to grab something to eat before you run.” She has started training for the spring 5K run which will happen the first day of her spring ballet performance weekend. Busy, busy, busy!
Still no movement.

I have a fabulous idea. I run downstairs and return with the new U2 album. Into the cd player it goes. This will wake the little bear. The music begins. I pull back the covers “up!” U2 plays loudly (as loudly as I feel comfortable playing so early in the morning) and she stretches. She grabs her clothes and pulls them beneath the covers with her (as if it is cold) “I want to warm my clothes for just a minute.”
I feed the cat, then run downstairs to assemble my own breakfast and get the bags ready to go. Back upstairs I find her… still under the covers.
“Up!! It is time to go. You are going to be late.”
Fortunately the slowest part of her mornings involve the bed. Once she is out, she can be ready within moments. She makes her way downstairs, grabs a drink, and is ready to pull on her shoes and go. I throw her lemon poppy seed muffin into her bag, fill her water bottle, turn off the album to take to work with me, and we are out the door.
“Did you like U2?” I asked her as we walked out the door and began our journey to the school.
“No, it’s rock and roll. Why do all the songs have to be so loud.”
I just smile. How much longer will she think such thoughts. How many more years will pass before I am attempting to figure out how she can listen to whatever it is she is enjoying. But mostly, I put the U2 in the player simply because I knew she would not spend an hour listening, singing, and dancing to it. I knew that No Line on the Horizon would get the child out of bed!