Stay Little

It started with a pair of pink converse all-stars. A cute, little pair of sneakers adorning a tiny pair of feet attached to an adorable little girl about two years old. She reminded me so much of my Curly girl, even though she had straight black hair, olive skin and would certainly grow up to be bilingual. It was the outfit. She had on these little cargo pants with a satin lined belt and a pink calico print shirt with a ruched top. She finished it off with the pink converse and an infectious smile. Well, it was the outfit and I think also the way you could tell just by looking at her that she was so....loved. Anyway, it touched my heart.

It may have also had something to do with the pediatrician mentioning that Curly's upcoming physical will also be her Kindergarten physical.

It was well documented here that I had a very hard time sending First Son off to school. And to be honest, even though his school experience has been nothing short of spectacular, I still regard the big yellow taxi with a bit of resentment. Still, I thought that sending Curly off to school would be no big deal. I even joked about it, that when it came to be her turn to get on the bus I would wave with a big fat smile.

Why then, did I cry myself to sleep last night? I don't want to send her off. I want to keep her! Why can't they just stay little??? She's my only girl, I am going to miss her terribly. 5 years is just not enough time!!! I want to soak her up, bathe in her sweet innocence, and not share her for 6 hours a day with anyone! I want to dress her up in cute pink converse sneakers and bounce her on my knee.

Now, my good friends JD and JT assure me that "The Secret of Life is Enjoying the Passage of Time" ....I try, but I don't know.....

It's going to be another long summer.

Life is too short...

And I refuse to waste a minute of it. You know those people who walk down the street swinging their shopping bag and clicking their heels while whistling a happy tune? Those people don't exist, right? Today I was those people. I am that person. (except that I whistle out of tune...it's part of my charm).

Hubby found out a few weeks ago that he was going to have to be out of town this weekend. I decided that rather than sit at home waiting for catastrophe (there is always, a major problem when hubby is OOT), I would buy a ticket and join him on the journey...sans offspring. So here I am, in St. Augustine, FL having the time of my life. Hubby is gone most of the day because...this IS a business trip after all. I like being alone sometimes. It is liberating. It so rarely happens, and I am savoring it. It is good to have this time to recharge my batteries, reconnect with "me". I am sure that when I return to NY in a few days I will be a better mother, wife and friend for it.

Today I took a trolley ride all around the city, toured some very old houses, sat at the bar and ate my lunch with a beer, then shopped till I nearly dropped (but those who know me, know that it would take A LOT of shopping before I would drop). I sipped a vanilla chai latte and took tons of cool pictures. At the end of the day I knelt in prayer inside our nation's oldest cathedral - a mini basilica, actually. ( incidentally - that means that the Pope can stay there, though with the cold hard marble floors, I'd advise that the Hampton Inn is the better choice). I said a prayer of thanksgiving - for my wonderful husband, our amazing children, all of the people back home who are taking care of our children; for our safe journey; and for this wonderful break that is helping me to appreciate it all so much.

Parched

Two weeks ago I was in St. Louis. By myself. Well, not actually by myself, but I was without any of the children who call me Mommy! For three whole days I poured not one single cup of apple juice, and swept nary a Cheerio off the kitchen floor. It was a blissful break. I slept as long as I wanted, I took showers with the bathroom door closed. It is amazing what three days of no cleaning, cooking or diaper changing will do for your skin.

Now that I am home, the combination of 4 small, dirty, hungry children and the dry winter air have taken their toll. My hands have been spontaneously bleeding in three different spots over the last week. I try to moisturize, but literally minutes later I am washing my hands again because I have either just changed a diaper, or I am getting somebody a snack, or I just cleaned some dirty mess. Moisturizer. Some women dream of massages and facials, spa weekends as a chance to pamper themselves. I'll settle for a bottle of Aveeno Daily Moisturizing Lotion.

R. I. P.

Well, I knew that this day would come. I have dreaded it, but I knew it was inevitable. Today the first of our "Princess Fish" has croaked. So much for kissing a frog.
I changed the water in their tank this morning and very shortly after one of the fish started acting really zany. Zipping around more than usual, and upon closer inspection, swimming...upside down. Then it would swim to the top of the tank and sink back down. It did this a few times. Finally it stopped moving and just lay there belly up. Poor fish.
I dreaded telling my Curly girl, but it had to be done. I sat her on my lap and asked her if she knew about heaven, she said "oh, yeah." Then I told her that one of her fish had gone to heaven. She did her best Sarah Bernhart impression, but she was faking it big time ( I have seen more sincere tears spew from those eyes when she doesn't like her dinner). Still, she was genuinely concerned. We scooped the body out of the tank, headed to the bathroom, said a few nice words about our precious Princess Fish and then finished her off with a royal flush.

Later in the day Grandma was here, and Curly Girl decided to break the news. "Grandma, one of my fish went to heaven today." (G-ma was forewarned) Grandma was very sympathetic, so much so that Curly felt the need to cheer her up. "it's okay Grandma, we will get to see her again, when we go to heaven!....But you first."

My sweet, tell it like it is, Curly Girl. Well, I am off to the pet store now.

What's in a name?

A quick lesson in etiquette, only because this very subject has come up twice this weekend and I feel the need to educate.

A married woman is : Mrs. Husband Smith....always!!
unless she is divorced, then she becomes:

Mrs. Herownname Smith

Even when widowed, she is still Mrs. Husband Smith.

There is no such person as Mrs. Patricia (My last name).

Now then, feminists, I am sure that you will have something to say about this..but please, think it through.

I married him!! I took HIS name. I gave it to my children.

Please people, I know that Emily Post is dead and all, but let's not disturb her grave.

A rose by any other name...

So, as you can see I have been doing some re-decorating. What do you think??
I like it. However, since in creating this new face-lift I had to type the name of my blog about 15 times I started to really think about it and...I don't love it. For one thing, the original three are now four. Secondly, my blog isn't just about my role as a mother although it may sometimes seem like that. I don't know that this title is entirely appropriate anymore. What else could I call this blog? Hmmm...how about:
?

?

?

Any suggestions? I am stumped.