Raisin’s Quotes of the Day

Raisin’s 6-month-long dance career is reaching its pinnacle this weekend with The Recital.   Last night was dress rehearsal, and she was so excited about that I don’t think she’ll sleep until after the last performance.  As she said herself, “It’s my first time on a stage!”

She was born for the stage.

On a distinctly less glamorous note, she called me into the bathroom because I’d forgotten to replace the toilet paper and, “I went more poop than you ever dreamed of, Mom!”

For the record, I’ve seen worse.

Memorial

Yesterday at church, the pianist played a medley of patriotic songs* while a slideshow played overhead.  One of the pictures was the Iwo-Jima-like one of the firefighters at Ground Zero.  I’m sure you know the one I mean.

Raisin asked me about it.  As she’s 5, and as the service was about to start, I gave her the barest of explanations.  Even still, I couldn’t get through it without crying.

Hug a hero today.

*Including a very cool section of the hymns of each branch of the Armed Forces.  The veterans of each stood up for their hymn.  What a great idea!

You are jealous, I know.

I met Erin today.  She is funny and rapid-fire and lovely, and her daughters are beautiful and smart and very clean.  Even though I’d just spent 7 hours in the car with my own (utterly delightful but juice-saturated) children, I hardly felt as awkward or frumpy as I could’ve.  It seemed like Raisin and the Bear had been friends forever, and once we’d bribed Orange and Apple with pizza they decided these new people were pretty fun, too.

All hail the Internet, connector of kindred spirits!

What I Should’ve Said

An encounter with a relative (who does not read this blog) has made me feel like I need to clarify this position (for myself):

If any of our children are gay, I believe:

1) It will not be readily apparent at the age of 2 1/2, or even 5.  At this age, I’m not even sure if Orange and Apple are definitely right-handed or not.  I’m definitely not ready to “assign” them a gender role or a sexuality.

2) It will not be because of something we have done at the age of 2 1/2 or 5.  It won’t be because, for example, I allowed Apple to play dress-up in a dress.  (What would be the girl equivalent of that?  Letting them play with hammers?  Allowing them to wear comfortable shoes?  It sounds so ridiculous to my ears I can’t even fathom the logic.)

It will be because that is who they are.  As their mother, I love who they are now, and I always will.

More bluntly: I don’t believe I have any control over whether my kids are gay.  I may have some influence over whether they’re homophobic, and I intend to exert it.

More passive-aggressively: Mind your own business, aunty-dear.  Your house is made of glass when it comes to child-rearing.

Add another one to the list…

The machining plant where my dad has worked for longer than I have been alive is closing its doors in June.

My mom assures me they’ll be OK, and I believe her (really, Mom, I do!).  Prayers are appreciated nonetheless.

Thank you.

Time Makes You Bolder/Children Get Older/I’m Getting Older, Too*

I am exhausted.  

There are a lot of factors: late nights at work, worry-induced insomnia, birthday parties and baby showers to plan and host, a mini-vacation in the making.  Lots to do, as always, and never enough time to get it all done.

Unfortunately, I think we must also consider an important truth.  Namely, that thirty-one is different than twenty-two.  And I am not twenty-two.

Sad.

*That’d be the Dixie Chicks.  Or Stevie Nicks.  As you prefer.