Month: August 2009 (page 1 of 4)

The Thing Is, I’ll Be Teaching

Kindermusik Rocks!

I am a teacher!
Not like a teacher teacher
but still, a teacher.

Lucy’s Time

Mommy and Lucy as Dr. Evil

Teeth! Mommy and Lucy

Just you and me, kid.
Julia’s at school today.
Baby, I’m all yours.

This Promise Is Getting Harder And Harder To Keep

I originally posted this on December 7, 2007.

Music, when it’s really good, can move you – sometimes, to another place or time.

Across The Universe* by The Beatles is one of those songs for me.

It takes me to a nursery rocking chair before a brown acrylic tree trunk that reaches up the wall to lush green painted leaves that burst out, over and onto the ceiling of a sun-filled room where I am sitting with my baby – my Julia – resting in my arms. Her little hand is gripping my finger. The world outside is calm and still. Her eyes are searching my face.

There’s a pile of lullaby cds next to the radio to choose from, but it is this one I pick again and again for our quiet time together.

“Limitless undying love which shines around me like a million suns, it calls me on and on across the universe.”

Yes, this our song.

I sing to her.

“Nothing’s gonna change my world”

Those breathy words escape my lips, but my heart is whispering thanks for this amazing gift, for this child given to me to love, to nurture, to show the world to.

“Nothing’s gonna change my world”

I sing it again. It is a promise – a vow to protect her from anything that may steal her light – that incredible light she has in her. I reaffirm it each time I sing the words:

“Nothing’s gonna change my world”

Oh my little girl, who fell asleep in loving arms to the sweet sound of music last night – Mommy will never break that promise.

“Nothing’s gonna change my world”

If my life were a movie, this is the part where that song would play as Julia and I make the slow-motion walk to her Kindergarten classroom. It’d be intercut with flashback footage of the two of us in the nursery. And you would be crying. Unless you’re one of those less fortunate souls who hasn’t had the chance to love or be loved like this. Then, you’d be rolling your eyes. That’s okay, though. You’d find love one day. Because in a world where my life is a movie, everyone does.

Walking Julia to her first day at Kindergarten

I dropped her off at her classroom this morning and asked her if she knew what to do. She said, “Yes, but I want to hug and kiss you first.” I let her.

“Have a great day, Sweetie. See you after school,” I said casually and walked out of sight. Then, I snuck back and peeked until I saw her check in with her teacher. She didn’t turn back to look for me. Not even once. And I’m glad. Because she is ready for Kindergarten. Also, so she wouldn’t see me crying, because I am not.

In Which I Tell You About What I Won’t Tell You About

Last night I came home from Julia’s Kindergarten Open House, headed straight to my computer, clicked Write Post and furiously began typing in an effort to tame my flurry of thoughts and emotions into something resembling sanity. But five sentences in, I stopped. I deleted. And I did not publish anything. I was suddenly very aware that my blog is not anonymous. And I have learned that you should never assume that someone doesn’t read your blog. Especially if the URL is on your bumper. Or a t-shirt you like to wear. Also the business cards your husband handed out at the Farmer’s Market because it had your Etsy web address on it.

My blog is about me. Much of what I’ve written here over the past three years has also been about Julia. Our lives have been so intermeshed, it’s hard to discern which stories are hers and which are mine. But this step into Kindergarten has made a distinction between us. And I have to be reasonable about how what I write here will affect her life apart from me. It’s true that I had no problem writing about her journey to preschool, but that was different. Julia’s preschool was a little piece of heaven and I couldn’t even invent something negative to write about it. Kindergarten is different. The way I feel about it is best expressed in the following song by Cartman of South Park. Just change the words “third grade” to “Monstessori preschool.”

So, I’m not going tell you about the parent that gave me nightmares. Or the other stuff that made me feel a little peacocky. But I will tell you this: I realize that I have been lucky. I’ve been able to provide my children with rich learning opportunities and surround them with friends that have involved parents who are all positive role models. This is not the case, or even the hope, for all parents.

Regardless of who she shares it with, I expect that Julia’s Kindergarten experience will be a good one. She’s going to learn and grow in ways I can’t even imagine yet. And my doubts will fade as I learn where I fit in it all. Because I am still her first and best teacher. The rest is just outsourcing.

The Hump Day Haiku B.I.L.F. – Lunatic Fringe

B.I.L.F. (Blog I Like To Follow)

Lunatic Fringe

I visit her place
when I need inspiration
to run and lose weight


The kids are in bed.
I can FINALLY work out.

Who Hates Custard? Honestly!

Heart Shaped Custard With A Caramel Sauce

I gave him my heart
caramel custard on a plate
he didn’t like it

The Runner’s Playlist

Every other day, for the past five months (up until that three week haitus but then I was right back at it, so let’s just pretend it never happened), I have gone running. So, I guess you could say I’m a runner. I tried out the title by calling myself one recently and someone I’ll call The Belittler asked me, “Well, do you actually go running or just jogging?” I got out the dictionary and found that a runner is one who runs or one who competes in a race. *cough* Ahem. It said nothing about being fast or good. Then I looked up “jogger” and it said, obsolete since 1986. So, yeah. I AM A RUNNER.

I kind of like being a runner.

I did not expect this. And every day I choose to run, I am still a little surprised that I actually am doing it. As I walk the half mile from my house to the starting point on my running trail, I repeat to myself, “You are going to run.” It’s almost a question.

Walking Trail

When Dave runs with me, he gives me a head start. He’s faster than me and claims that the head start is to allow us to finish together. I think he sends me out first to clear the path of snakes, because he’s afraid of them.

I press play on my iPod.

Here It Goes Again by Ok Go. The first four minutes of my run are the worst. I kind of hate the first four minutes. They feel the way a baby deer learning to walk looks. I ask myself, Why are you doing this?

Sooner or Later by The Grass Roots. I want to look at my watch to see how long I’ve been running, even though I know how long I’ve been running, which is not very long at all.

Fox on the Run by Sweet. I wish I had a t-shirt that said Foxy on the run.

I Think We’re Alone Now by Tommy James & The Shondells. Why am I doing this? I am doing this because it feels AWESOME.

More Than A Feeling by Boston. I feel like I could run forever.

Always With Me, Always With You by Joe Satriani. Except I’m listening to the version by Ron Thal because it’s better. I hit my zone. My rhythm is perfect. I don’t have to think about running anymore, I just do it. My body is on auto-pilot and moving fast, but in my mind, things are slowing down and I stretch and breathe and relax and think and dream and La Cienega Just Smiled by Ryan Adams and Runaway by The Corrs.

Fall For You by Secondhand Serenade. I’m hot and sweaty and getting tired, but I want to finish strong. I push and dig and try to pick up some speed. I pretend I’m running from zombies. Not the slow ones. The fast ones with the rage from 28 Days Later.

Girlfriend by Avril Lavigne. Almost done. Go girl!

Born To Run by Bruce Springsteen. I run as fast and as hard as I can. I give it everything I’ve got up to the end where Dave is waiting with a high five. I feel alive! Also a little like I might throw up. But mostly incredible, like I can do anything! Like anything is possible.

And it is. Because I am a runner. No one would have ever guessed. Not even me.

Even If We Don’t Go To Bed Angry, It Doesn’t Mean I Won’t Wake Up That Way

Bizzaro Dave strikes!
I woke up mad this morning,
David Cassidy.

Saturday Morning

Saturday Morning

quiet coloring
their bellies full of french toast
shirts are optional

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