Sunday, June 16, 2013

My Dodo

Did you know a "dodo" was a dad of daughters only? This is the rumor we hear - and I love it. And I love my dodo. Hard. And my girls? My girls are so freaking lucky. And I am lucky for my girls, for me. I mean, it's Father's Day and he is insisting on changing our stink ass little girl's diaper. I mean? It doesn't get much better than that, folks.

My dodo is difficult to compare to. He's everything to us. To me. To them. He's the kind of man they will know is possible, the kind of partner a girl can have. There, 100%. And I don't know how many of there of him there are out there.

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

Show me how big your brave is

Step 1, press play:



Step 2: Try not cry.*

*Ok fine, I get it - it's probably just me. But I cry almost every time I sing (scream) this song. It isn't waterfall city, just welling up - damn this hurts. Or does it feel good. Or does it hurt? I don't know. But damn.

I try to think about what I want for my girls. I can't ever seem to put it into a word. I have many words, but never just one word.

The story behind the music: one day I heard Sara Bareilles was putting out a new album (CD, iTunes download - whatever).  and there is a release of the song - with the lyrics. Truth: I am excited because she's a favorite of mine. Bonus: I feel like we'd totally be friends, if I could make a damn friend. Home girl can sing a song riddled with truth (and curses) and it's lovely. Her songs make me happy and when they are sad, I feel it. When she isn't dropping F bombs there are songs that my kid can enjoy & I don't want to poke my ear out. Wins all around. So I look it up, and I press play.

And I can't. I can't stop. I can't stop listening to it. I can't stop crying. The good, cleansing cry. The kind that is not quite sad, but not quite happy. But also the kind that hurts, because I realize it's a song - while likely intended to be a civil rights anthem of sorts - it's my song to my girls. I want to see them be brave.

I'll be damned. Everything I want for my little humans - wrapped in a catchy tune that just makes you want to move. Dance. Like no one is looking. And we do - we dance like no one is watching. Singing like no one can hear us.  The kid & I haven't stopped singing the song. We scream at the top of our lungs - windows down - fake microphones and circle school until we get the song in.


I fear for what is ahead for them. Beyond the chaos of the unexpected tragedy, that has proven to be the possible - in an impossible way. Beyond the disappointments they might experience and heart break. You want to protect them -but a big part of me wants them to push past it all and come out on top. Be the kind of kid who is someone's hero. And if they are in the position where they need a hero, they need someone to be there for them in a darkness - I want need them to have that. Be bigger than they think they can be. Be more. Life is going to be hard. And I want them to speak up. I want to see how big their brave is. 

All of this is to say, I hear this song and I think - this is it. What I want need for my babies. I want them to have the strength  - because lord knows I don't know how I will. I'm paralyzed with fear for what lies ahead of them.  In talking to some friends, seasoned moms, of how I was feeling this little piece of advice has stayed with me: you make sure they know that they are loved completely and unconditionally. And then I hope the rest will work out. 

I hope they do- know that I love them. With everything. And when the times comes they will have that behind them. To be amazing.


Brave - Sara Bareilles
You can be amazing
You can turn a phrase into a weapon or a drug
You can be the outcast
Or be the backlash of somebody’s lack of love
Or you can start speaking up
Nothing’s gonna hurt you the way that words do
And they settle ‘neath your skin
Kept on the inside and no sunlight
Sometimes a shadow wins
But I wonder what would happen if you

Say what you wanna say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

With what you want to say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I wanna see you be brave

I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I wanna see you be brave

Everybody’s been there, everybody’s been stared down
By the enemy
Fallen for the fear and done some disappearing
Bow down to the mighty
Don’t run, stop holding your tongue
Maybe there’s a way out of the cage where you live
Maybe one of these days you can let the light in
Show me how big your brave is

Say what you wanna say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

With what you want to say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

Innocence, your history of silence
Won’t do you any good
Did you think it would?
Let your words be anything but empty
Why don’t you tell them the truth?

Say what you wanna say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

With what you want to say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I wanna see you be brave

I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I wanna see you be brave

I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I wanna see you be brave

I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you 

Monday, June 3, 2013

Pro tip: Don't ask questions you can't want to hear the answer to.

A few weeks ago, the kid told me she knew the D word. More on that here. The long & short of it? Totally innocent.

So when the kid said, "I know the F word." I figured:
  • Fudge
  • (At worst) freak or frig maybe a little 
  • Friggin
Lesson learned, don't ask. Cause out it came, and it went a little like this:


I went through the motions. "What's the F word, kid?"

Her, matter of fact in face & tone: "F_CK."

Me, {silent shock - this, my friend, was no innocent dang
Her, "That's it."
Me, "Yes, it is. But don't say that again - ok. It's kind of one of the worst words you could use - where did you hear that?" {silently thinking - please don't say me. PLEASE don't say me.}
Her, "Missy* told me."
Me, {thanks G, it wasn't me. Just a little buddy at school. I can't even be mad at her hooligan friend, I'm too excited it isn't me. Or my hooligan friends.  I had a phone call on speaker the other day and didn't say "you are on speaker" and F bombs were thrown. Good, I'm glad it's a friend. Better her than me. Better her than me.} "Ok, well listen - it's not a nice word, please don't say it again. Don't tell others about it - it's not OK."

*Names changed to protect the guilty. Did I mention, I'm so f'ing glad it isn't me?

Sunday, June 2, 2013

To be filed under/ another reason I have a hard time making friends: I judge.

Our neighborhood has an "active" FB group. Sometimes it's great. Often times people are selling items or giving them away - we got a jogging stroller for free! Not for me, because I don't run unless I'm being chased, but the ball&chain has been running again so it'll be great for the babe. There is local yard sale information or call out for help. Like the other day when an adorable old dog was found in my yard. I had to call the city to pick him up but I wanted to try & find his owner. I named him Chewy and the long story short is while the owner was out looking for the pup, she asked someone who had seen the picture that I posted in the group. Due to that picture, Chewy was picked up by his owner. Side note, his real name is Buster. But he'll always be Chewy to me.

Sometimes local events are posted or local business recommendations. Most times? It seems to be about animal poop. Dogs not being curbed, cats roaming free. We live in a nice neighborhood that is basically the poop police.

True story: one guy said he was going to be posting pictures of non-dog curbing offenders. This dude is basically going to hide in a bush and take a picture if you don't pick up after your dog. Watch out. Cause people around here have time like that.

Currently there is a ridiculous, angry, passion filled discussion about cat poop.  There is a 33 deep comment string, ranging from one liners like "Cat diapers should solve everything. You're welcome." and paragraphs about the "invasive species" of cats in our neighborhood FB group. And the poor girl who is clearly not a cat person then gets attacked and questioned in terms of why she is in this piece of poop police blotter (as apparently she doesn't actually live in the neighborhood). ALL I want to do is hit reply and say things like:
  • For a state where the presidential votes are depended on or weighed heavily - this is your big issue? Seems like crap. {ba-dum-cha I'm here all night. Or 2 more years, unfortunately.}
  • So what I'm getting here is if I kill the cat OR I save the cat - I am 50% likely to find a friend among you. What if I don't care - either way? Does that make me the outsider? 
  • If I technically live in this neighborhood, but I absolutely don't care about this issue: would you attack me? Or just those that disagree with those inside the coveted neighborhood. 
  • Cats are the devil's pet.
To be filed under/ another reason I have a hard time making friends: I judge.
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