The Writing Mamas Daily Blog
Each day on the Writing Mamas Daily Blog, a different member will write about mothering.If you're a mom then you've said these words, you've made these observations and you've lived these situations - 24/7.
And for that, you are a goddess.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Godparents Make the Best Friends and Relatives
When it came time to chose godparents for my daughter I gave it careful thought. I wanted her to have two godparents and wanted them to be people she could always turn to as I had a sense -- correct I might add -- that my daughter and I would fight often because we would be so much alike.
We do and we are.
Amy, my best friend since I was eleven, is visiting today. Mimi is camping with her father and brother. I am Jewish. I don't camp. I hotel.
The night of Amy's arrival from Seattle we will have too much wine and laugh.
Come Sunday morning when my family returns, Mimi will jump into Amy's arms and shower her face with kisses. Amy will stare at her with wonder and joy, the same way I look at my daughter every day. I will watch the scene play out exactly as I had envisioned it seven years earlier. I can imagine it seven years from now. And years and years beyond that.
I explained to Amy that her role wasn't just to buy gifts, but to be a second mother to Mimi. To bestow her wisdom to my daughter when she is perplexed and needs an opinion outside of her mother's.
The same with my friend, Cally, who lives in Florida, and is an artist. Art, besides being a rock star and a vet, appear to be Mimi's calling. When Cal calls now they talk intensely about drawing. Aunt Cal offering advice about blending colors and how to show perspective.
My daughter is blessed to have two wonderful godmothers. I am lucky to have them as friends. For we love each other unconditionally.
It helps that both are hysterical, fun, playful, insightful and smart.
They'll always have us. And we will always have them.
By Dawn Yun
Labels: artistic, artistic daughter, By Dawn Yun, camping, East Coast Jewish girl, godparents, hotel, love ununconditionally, rock star, Seattle, second mother
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Wednesday, June 03, 2009
Listening to Children's View of Love
And quickly tune in to what my daughter was saying to her friend.
“Diana and Jeff are in love. I saw the love at the party.” My daughter’s very serious tone drew my attention like a laser to the back seat. I slowed down and angled my head so I could hear more clearly.
“Yeah, sure,” Her friend said in an equally serious tone. “They’re boyfriend and girlfriend. I saw the love too.”
“But, he doesn’t love me.” My daughter sounded puzzled at that.
“No. But he likes you.” Her friend sounded reassuring.
“The grownups say they’ll get married.” My daughter said this as if she was planning what to wear to the event.
Her friend said, “Sure.”
My daughter then asked her friend “Are you still girlfriend to Dave?”
“No,” said her friend. “That’s gross. We broke up.”
Silence in the back seat until my daughter changed the subject. “I’ll be the princess and you’ll be the baby and I’ll find the palace.”
I sat forward and switched on the radio again, but kept the sound low. I wanted to laugh and cry. The conversation sounded like 16-year-olds, but these girls are only six.
Yet they can see the “love.” They already know what “boyfriend” and “girlfriend” mean. So, my new resolution is to keep the radio down, a friend in the back seat as often as possible, and listen carefully to get the critical information I need.
For when I ask how things are, already I’m getting the much-used word: “fine.” Followed by silence.
Note: Names have been changed to protect friends.
By Georgie Craig
Labels: boyfriend, camping, Georgie Craig, girlfriend, NPR
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Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Lightweight
24-ounce mega-cans of Heineken beer
Snack-sized Starkist tuna lunch kits
This could be the shopping list of a frat boy who cares about Omega-3 fatty acids but not about mercury. Instead, the list is my husband’s, and he’s not even a drinker. He intends to pour the beer down the drain, give the cat a treat, and fashion a portable stove from the cans.
My husband is obsessed with lightweight backpacking. He spends hours online chatting with likeminded fanatics about the newest miracle fabric that repels water, retains heat, and is lighter than air. They swap recipes for freeze-dried concoctions requiring less space than a teabag. Each gram shaved from the overall weight of the pack is cause for celebration; it means he can go faster and farther on his solo trips into the wilderness.
He spends all day experimenting, drilling holes into the beer can, creating a miniature windscreen. Our teenaged daughter catches him trying to boil water in his makeshift tuna-can stove. Rolling her eyes, she declares, “This mid-life crisis has gone too far!”
I know I should be grateful. Other men troll online for extramarital flings or buy expensive sports cars to stave off the onslaught of age. My husband is both frugal and true.
Yet, I can’t help but wonder about his preoccupation with traveling light. How much does he long to unburden himself of home and family, of a life heavy with obligation? We drag on him, the kids and I. The mortgage, hot flashes, college tuition, endless household chores -- they all add to his load. How far could he have gone if he weren’t so weighted down?
No wonder he wants to set off unencumbered at a swift pace. Perhaps, if he doesn’t need to pause for others to catch up, he can even outrun the passage of time.
By Lorrie Goldin Stumble This Post
Snack-sized Starkist tuna lunch kits
This could be the shopping list of a frat boy who cares about Omega-3 fatty acids but not about mercury. Instead, the list is my husband’s, and he’s not even a drinker. He intends to pour the beer down the drain, give the cat a treat, and fashion a portable stove from the cans.
My husband is obsessed with lightweight backpacking. He spends hours online chatting with likeminded fanatics about the newest miracle fabric that repels water, retains heat, and is lighter than air. They swap recipes for freeze-dried concoctions requiring less space than a teabag. Each gram shaved from the overall weight of the pack is cause for celebration; it means he can go faster and farther on his solo trips into the wilderness.
He spends all day experimenting, drilling holes into the beer can, creating a miniature windscreen. Our teenaged daughter catches him trying to boil water in his makeshift tuna-can stove. Rolling her eyes, she declares, “This mid-life crisis has gone too far!”
I know I should be grateful. Other men troll online for extramarital flings or buy expensive sports cars to stave off the onslaught of age. My husband is both frugal and true.
Yet, I can’t help but wonder about his preoccupation with traveling light. How much does he long to unburden himself of home and family, of a life heavy with obligation? We drag on him, the kids and I. The mortgage, hot flashes, college tuition, endless household chores -- they all add to his load. How far could he have gone if he weren’t so weighted down?
No wonder he wants to set off unencumbered at a swift pace. Perhaps, if he doesn’t need to pause for others to catch up, he can even outrun the passage of time.
By Lorrie Goldin
Labels: camping, families, husbands
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