my own scarf full of hugs

Throughout the day lately, my daughter, seemingly out of the blue, will say to me, "I love you my mother." She says it cool, calm, serious, often while she's coloring or otherwise busy. But every time she says it, I feel like I just got a great big warm hug from her, and know that despite all the crazy hectic days and arguments over whether she'll eat her carrots or go to bed when it is bed time, there's a mother-daughter bond, love, that won't be broken, even when she thinks I'm a crazy old lady out of touch with "cool". I'm storing up all these hugs for remembering later... 
I used to send a scarf with her to kindergarten that was "full up with extra hugs for all day" while she was there and I was at work. I'm thinking I'll need my own scarf soon enough. There's an old song, about the uncertainties of the future, I don't remember all of it or if it's quoting something, but one line stays with me:  "I don't know what the future holds, but I know Who holds the future." 

not as old as i thought it was

I distinctly remember being three and four years old and looking up at my mom and thinking she was a grown-up, but never that she was "old." In one memory in particular, I can still see where we were in my old hometown, the sunlight streaming into our blue Ford Tempo from the west. Mom was singing along with the radio, quietly, and I told her she sounded so pretty, like the singer. She was my mom, wonderful at a lot of things, and a grown-up. I thought I'd never be a grown-up since it would take forever to get there. 
Old wasn't really a concept I had a full understanding of at the time, though I've given it more thought since then. Mom was my current age at the time I'm thinking of. That's the weird thing, now I'm that age. I find myself looking at my daughter and wondering what she's thinking. She made the off handed comment the other day that I'm so old. Sure, old compared to FIVE. I've lived more than five times her lifetime. OUCH. Let's not do the math comparing to my two year old. 
This morning really solidified the fact that I'm a grown-up now. We were in the car, and an tune I used to love came on the radio. I turned it up and excitedly told my daughter, "This is a great song! It was so cool when I was in high school!" DOH. I just don't feel old, or like what I thought being a grown-up would feel like. I'm relieved that I don't feel like a teenager anymore (whew!). I guess being a grown-up doesn't feel old after all, though sometimes life can make us feel old, no mater what age we are. Here's to all cheesy high school songs they'll be playing in the grocery store in the mornings in a few more years. BRING IT ON.
      Harvey Danger - Flagpole Sitta - Watch more Videos at Vodpod.

dunno what twenty ten crazy means...

me: please stop, you are making me crazy. 
daughter: ehhh mom, how crazy are you? 
me: like, twenty TEN crazy. 
daughter: oh [looking unsurprised] that's crazy.


it's not a dislike of fried eggs
it's not a spontaneous dance-off with a five year old
nor Mrs. Peacock, aghast

it's tearing up, watery eyes
traitorous lump in your throat
with a heartache stomach-burn
depressive writing, another page to turn   ...


I keep thinking, that one day... - one day I'll be eighty, and I won't flinch any more. I won't cringe with embarrassment. I won't turn bright red, or have to leave, out of embarrassment for a character in a movie. I'll be able to read through dramatic irony without having to skip ahead to make sure that I will survive. one day, all this over conciousness will fade. One day those moments that flash back out of no where will be gone and won't make me flinch because I just turned pink in a room full of strangers for no apparent reason and perhaps made an audible squeak. 

back-up planning all the what ifs and when its

Do you ever have those moments when you try to imagine the future, and it's nothing but a thick rolling fog? Picture yourself at this job for the next twenty, nothing, FOG. Yes, as a high energy manager making a difference and improving the product and company. Picture yourself expressing yourself through music, sitting at a piano, singing along with the radio.... yes, yes, no?
When we first moved into this home, I'd try to picture our future yet I couldn't see beyond a few years. Not in a pessimistic or concerned sort of way. More of an acceptance of there being a bend in the road that one can't see past the trees and beyond yet.  So different now, with our mobility and wealth, one can pack and move and up and go and then try to go back again if we really want. We're not the log cabin just one plot further up the road from town.
Other things are less foggy, even when my mind wanders to the pessimistic.
Lose my voice? I will play piano, even with my stiff wrists.
Lose my hair? I love scarves, hats and slouchy soft warm beanies.
Lose my sight? My books will still be there.
Lose my stomach? Did you know that the human body is a miracle and we can adjust to life without?
We have so much, yet always thinking, contemplating, marveling, worrying and back-up planning all the what ifs and when its.