Monday, June 7, 2010

another direction.....



I've decided to start putting up truncated excerpt from my now finished, though not edited, memoir... why not?

The memoir is humorous, tragic,  and no holds barred. I think my small group of fans might enjoy so... next step on this website...

but for today... My beloved Thing One (7) sees me this way ^

Her twin sees me this way....^

Now, they have always had a yin yang thing going on, and one of them is most definitely a daddy's girl (The one who thinks I look like a monster)

Her twin, the little charm,  thinks I am some kind of super model.   I of course have talked to Thing One, and her reasoning is because I embarrass her, that is, she HATES when I dance, sing, move, well, breath.  But in private moments, she demands I scratch her back, tell her silly stories and make her giggle. As only I know how to do this just so. But NO ONE must know about it. Not even her twin, who falls asleep before we have these private times.  She is a very sensitive little thing, so if I do something funny and god forbid anyone is in earshot, she runs to her bed and cries. "You are a horrible mother!"

I really don't mind and am working on spending alone time with her, just the way she likes it. Meanwhile, her father could accidentally burn the house down, lose all her favorite clothes, make horrible dinners, yet Thing One, because he walks on water, comforts him. "Daddy, we all make mistakes. We can just build a new house."

Yet when I make the occasional dinner, Thing One routinely throws it in the trash and runs to her bed and cries. She never says, "Mom, it's okay. You are actually getting better at making mac and cheese." I typically dig it out of the trash and eat it. I have certainly eaten worse things, plus it's my trash, so to me it's clean.

I'm sure this phase will pass, but when she tried to explain, this is what she said:  "I hate you. I don't know why, but my brain just keeps telling me that. And every time you ask me, my brain hurts so much, a headache like someone pounded sharp sea shells in it."

So, I let her be.

Then of course, a few minutes later, "Mom, don't forget my allowance. I left my purse on the door."

How can a mother not love this child?  I am a big advocate of honesty, so there you have it.