Monday night at the dinner table, I asked Kid Rock about her day.
She reveled us in her usual tales, mouth full of food.
Oh and I'm gonna be on the radio and I got free pancakes for doing it.
Well, double score!
The local AM station in our city runs a "Kids Speak" program that includes its morning deejay interviewing select students in first grade all about their summer vacations, what they like about school, and various other topics. The segments run on-air later that week.
Behold, baby's first radio interview!
Paraphrased, obviously.
9/15/14
Age 6 years, 9 months, and 8 days
Deejay: Lil' Dude. Ok. That's a great name! I bet you don't know anyone else with that name!
Lil' Dude: Ha. No!
DJ: Okay, okay, (laughing). Did you do something fun with your summer vacation?
LD: I did. I did go to the Black Hills.
DJ: What did you do after that?
LD: I did go to a Little Red Cabin, and I also went to my Grandpa and Grandma's for the whole entire week.
DJ: Wow! What did you do with Grandpa and Grandma?
LD: I had a few sleepovers with my friends from down there, and I went swimming with my friends.
DJ: Ok. Did Grandpa and Grandma give you a lot of sweets?
LD: No, no! I just only had ice cream.
DJ: Ice cream! What kind of ice cream is the best?
LD: Ice cream sandwiches.
DJ: Oh those are good. Do you like chocolate ice cream?
LD: Silence
DJ: How about ... ice cream with chocolate chips?
LD: Silence
DJ, obviously segueing way off course: What do you think it means to be a good person?
LD: I don't know.
DJ: You don't know? So if your mom says, 'Lil' Dude, be a good person today', what do you think she is trying to tell you?
LD: Be good and be yourself.
DJ: Be yourself? That's a good thing. And nice to other people? Yeah. Have you ever thought what a cool job to have would be? What do you want to be when you grow up?
LD: A teacher. At this school.
DJ: What would you have the most fun teaching?
LD: Math! And reading, too.
DJ: Who do you think is smarter: boys or girls?
LD: Girls.
DJ: Why are girls smarter, do you think?
LD: Because they like to learn about horses, and lots and lots of girls like to learn about fairies, and ponies, and they like to learn about more stuff than boys.
DJ: Yes, boys are that way, aren't they!
So she already knows being a good person simply means being yourself, and that girls are smarter than boys. My work here is done. Fistpump; parenting.
Wednesday, September 17, 2014
Tuesday, September 16, 2014
Try
Today is School Picture Day.
When I was about the Lil' Dude's age, my own Mama permed my bangs.
Permed.
My.
Bangs.
You see, each morning my own Mama curled my bangs- you know, the 1980's Mall Bangs slash The Claw Bangs slash That. She used deductive reasoning to conclude that she could save us both time and AquaNet if she just permed my bangs. My mullet (that's right) was long and stringy and the perfect dishwater blonde so it was always always Party in the Front.
Permed.
Bangs.
So much WINNING.
That being said, today is school picture day for my first grader. I let her choose her own outfit, right down to the accessories, which because she is a female and also because she is my daughter, she knows are the best part of any outfit.
Speaking of so much winning. Can't wait to see her yearbook photo! Neither can her Grandmas!
Her teacher asked students' parents to write out "Hopes and Wishes" for their child's academic year. The Hope stars are hung prominently in the classroom. Such a cool continuity for kids to see- home to school- and back again. I love her teacher for the inclusion.
On Kid Rock's star, the Dad and I wrote;
We hope you continue to be the happy, secure, proud and amazing girl you are today all the way through your year!
And until she's 85.
As a parent, you can't teach self-acceptance. But you can foster it. You can be the example.
And because someone else said it first, here's the perfect new song that empowers the whole self-acceptance gig straight into outer space.
Try
By Colbie Caillat
Put your make up on
Get your nails done
Curl your hair
Run the extra mile
Keep it slim
So they like you, do they like you?
Get your sexy on
Don't be shy, girl
Take it off
This is what you want, to belong
So they like you, do you like you?
You don't have to try so hard
You don't have to give it all away
You just have to get up, get up, get up, get up
You don't have to change a single thing
You don't have to try, try, try, try
You don't have to try, try, try, try
You don't have to try, try, try, try
You don't have to try
Yooou don't have to try
Ohh
Get your shopping on, at the mall, max your credit cards
You don't have to choose, buy it all
Do they like you? Do they like you?
Wait a second,
Why should you care, what they think of you
When you're all alone, by yourself
Do you like you? Do you like you?
You don't have to try so hard
You don't have to give it all away
You just have to get up, get up, get up, get up
You don't have to change a single thing
You don't have to try so hard
You don't have to bend until you break
You just have to get up, get up, get up, get up
You don't have to change a single thing
You don't have to try, try, try, try
You don't have to try, try, try, try
You don't have to try, try, try, try
You don't have to try
You don't have to try, try, try, try
You don't have to try, try, try, try
You don't have to try, try, try, try
You don't have to try
Yooou don't have to try
Noooo
Oooh
You don't have to try so hard
You don't have to give it all away
You just have to get up, get up, get up, get up
You don't have to change a single thing
You don't have to try, try, try, try
You don't have to try, try, try, try
You don't have to try
You don't have to try
Take your make up off
Let your hair down
Take a breath
Look into the mirror, at yourself
Don't you like you?
Cause I like you
When I was about the Lil' Dude's age, my own Mama permed my bangs.
Permed.
My.
Bangs.
You see, each morning my own Mama curled my bangs- you know, the 1980's Mall Bangs slash The Claw Bangs slash That. She used deductive reasoning to conclude that she could save us both time and AquaNet if she just permed my bangs. My mullet (that's right) was long and stringy and the perfect dishwater blonde so it was always always Party in the Front.
Permed.
Bangs.
So much WINNING.
That being said, today is school picture day for my first grader. I let her choose her own outfit, right down to the accessories, which because she is a female and also because she is my daughter, she knows are the best part of any outfit.
Speaking of so much winning. Can't wait to see her yearbook photo! Neither can her Grandmas!
Her teacher asked students' parents to write out "Hopes and Wishes" for their child's academic year. The Hope stars are hung prominently in the classroom. Such a cool continuity for kids to see- home to school- and back again. I love her teacher for the inclusion.
On Kid Rock's star, the Dad and I wrote;
We hope you continue to be the happy, secure, proud and amazing girl you are today all the way through your year!
And until she's 85.
As a parent, you can't teach self-acceptance. But you can foster it. You can be the example.
And because someone else said it first, here's the perfect new song that empowers the whole self-acceptance gig straight into outer space.
Try
By Colbie Caillat
Put your make up on
Get your nails done
Curl your hair
Run the extra mile
Keep it slim
So they like you, do they like you?
Get your sexy on
Don't be shy, girl
Take it off
This is what you want, to belong
So they like you, do you like you?
You don't have to try so hard
You don't have to give it all away
You just have to get up, get up, get up, get up
You don't have to change a single thing
You don't have to try, try, try, try
You don't have to try, try, try, try
You don't have to try, try, try, try
You don't have to try
Yooou don't have to try
Ohh
Get your shopping on, at the mall, max your credit cards
You don't have to choose, buy it all
Do they like you? Do they like you?
Wait a second,
Why should you care, what they think of you
When you're all alone, by yourself
Do you like you? Do you like you?
You don't have to try so hard
You don't have to give it all away
You just have to get up, get up, get up, get up
You don't have to change a single thing
You don't have to try so hard
You don't have to bend until you break
You just have to get up, get up, get up, get up
You don't have to change a single thing
You don't have to try, try, try, try
You don't have to try, try, try, try
You don't have to try, try, try, try
You don't have to try
You don't have to try, try, try, try
You don't have to try, try, try, try
You don't have to try, try, try, try
You don't have to try
Yooou don't have to try
Noooo
Oooh
You don't have to try so hard
You don't have to give it all away
You just have to get up, get up, get up, get up
You don't have to change a single thing
You don't have to try, try, try, try
You don't have to try, try, try, try
You don't have to try
You don't have to try
Take your make up off
Let your hair down
Take a breath
Look into the mirror, at yourself
Don't you like you?
Cause I like you
Wednesday, September 3, 2014
Little Mercies
Consciously, I have plenty of thoughts and feelings as my daughter, my only child, enters first grade, and turns seven in a quarter of a year. Plenty. Mostly, I am excited. I am confident. That's new ground- to not have my heart beating rapidfire against my ribs. To not wring my hands in emotional misery. To not want to punch time in the face for being an asshole. I'm growing up, y'all. Right along side my child.
I didn't write her a letter the night before she started school this year. I didn't ... feel ... like I had to. She doesn't need a operator's manual. She should, technically. As I readied her for her first day, I whispered All Of The Things to her;
Your room number is 214.
Remember to take bus T28 home! Because it's actually Tuesday, not a Monday!
Your lunch code- do you remember it from kindergarten? 9 7 2 6 1 1
I will see you at 2:30pm
I love you 1,000 times.
And then I shoved her out the door and waved goodbye from the porch.
That's a lot of data for a tiny human who still can't pronounce thirsty correctly.
But damn if she doesn't nail life on the head all damn day long.
In fact, when she came skipping down the road from the bus stop at nearly 2:50pm yesterday (no panic here, swear), a neighboring Mama texted me to ask the Lil' Dude where her son was, as he no-showed the bus. Oh, he went to KidStop, for sure. And she was correct, my little mayor of social town. She always knows.
As I said, I didn't have a whole lot to say to her this year. She knows everything I would say.
Do your best.
Do no harm.
(but take no shit)
Be courteous.
Be grateful.
Have fun.
Be yourself.
Don't forget to be rad.
Be kind.
Be patient.
Make good choices.
Talk a little less.
Eat a little more.
Remember where you came from.
But I had a moment this morning when I read this paragraph from author Heather Gudenkauf from her novel "Little Mercies";
Motherhood is a procession of goodbyes. Some bittersweet and filled with promise and hope, some gradual, a gentle prying away of your fingers from something precious, some more violent, unexpected.
Motherhood is a procession of goodbyes. It sure is ... I hadn't thought of it that way until right now. All of those big, huge messy emotional things that live within- are simply goodbyes being processed at their own times. There's a name for what I'm feeling, experiencing each day. The goodbyes have ranged from her no longer needing help at bedtime as she showers, to her extended biking privileges to a further stop sign, choosing all of her own school clothes (oh, the battles we've raged in the name of fashion, Lord help us and maybe little baby Victoria Beckham or Anna Wintour while we're at it), to the evident self-soothing she administers herself as her first line of defense when the wheels fall off. It's all one great big, giant goodbye.
But, it's motherhood's goodbye, not my own. I feel a certain peace when I break it down that way- this godawful knowledge is every single Mama's rite of passage. I am armed and surrounded by villages and legions of women who do this every day. It's my baby niece spending her first night her in her own crib this week at the age of four months. It's three of my Besties sending their kindergartners off on a big, ol' bus this week. It's my aunt as my Goddaughter started her senior year of high school yesterday. It's three other Mama friends who chose to hold their summer babies back from starting their school days for one more year. It's my Grandma's wracked heart as her daughter submits herself to Chemo each week while she's 100 miles away. It's new daycares, new pregnancies, hearing aids fitted at five, Mamas seeing their beautiful baby girls walk down the aisle to the rest of their lives, and driver's ed.
It's all part of this incredible journey I have been so, so lucky to be on.
So in the famous words of Kid Rock herself ... PEACE OUT!
The leavin' here is all good.
Mama loves.
I didn't write her a letter the night before she started school this year. I didn't ... feel ... like I had to. She doesn't need a operator's manual. She should, technically. As I readied her for her first day, I whispered All Of The Things to her;
Your room number is 214.
Remember to take bus T28 home! Because it's actually Tuesday, not a Monday!
Your lunch code- do you remember it from kindergarten? 9 7 2 6 1 1
I will see you at 2:30pm
I love you 1,000 times.
And then I shoved her out the door and waved goodbye from the porch.
That's a lot of data for a tiny human who still can't pronounce thirsty correctly.
But damn if she doesn't nail life on the head all damn day long.
In fact, when she came skipping down the road from the bus stop at nearly 2:50pm yesterday (no panic here, swear), a neighboring Mama texted me to ask the Lil' Dude where her son was, as he no-showed the bus. Oh, he went to KidStop, for sure. And she was correct, my little mayor of social town. She always knows.
As I said, I didn't have a whole lot to say to her this year. She knows everything I would say.
Do your best.
Do no harm.
(but take no shit)
Be courteous.
Be grateful.
Have fun.
Be yourself.
Don't forget to be rad.
Be kind.
Be patient.
Make good choices.
Talk a little less.
Eat a little more.
Remember where you came from.
But I had a moment this morning when I read this paragraph from author Heather Gudenkauf from her novel "Little Mercies";
Motherhood is a procession of goodbyes. Some bittersweet and filled with promise and hope, some gradual, a gentle prying away of your fingers from something precious, some more violent, unexpected.
Motherhood is a procession of goodbyes. It sure is ... I hadn't thought of it that way until right now. All of those big, huge messy emotional things that live within- are simply goodbyes being processed at their own times. There's a name for what I'm feeling, experiencing each day. The goodbyes have ranged from her no longer needing help at bedtime as she showers, to her extended biking privileges to a further stop sign, choosing all of her own school clothes (oh, the battles we've raged in the name of fashion, Lord help us and maybe little baby Victoria Beckham or Anna Wintour while we're at it), to the evident self-soothing she administers herself as her first line of defense when the wheels fall off. It's all one great big, giant goodbye.
But, it's motherhood's goodbye, not my own. I feel a certain peace when I break it down that way- this godawful knowledge is every single Mama's rite of passage. I am armed and surrounded by villages and legions of women who do this every day. It's my baby niece spending her first night her in her own crib this week at the age of four months. It's three of my Besties sending their kindergartners off on a big, ol' bus this week. It's my aunt as my Goddaughter started her senior year of high school yesterday. It's three other Mama friends who chose to hold their summer babies back from starting their school days for one more year. It's my Grandma's wracked heart as her daughter submits herself to Chemo each week while she's 100 miles away. It's new daycares, new pregnancies, hearing aids fitted at five, Mamas seeing their beautiful baby girls walk down the aisle to the rest of their lives, and driver's ed.
It's all part of this incredible journey I have been so, so lucky to be on.
So in the famous words of Kid Rock herself ... PEACE OUT!
The leavin' here is all good.
Mama loves.
Tuesday, September 2, 2014
1st Grade Diaries
1. What are your favorite foods?
Chicken drumsticks, sausage pizza, and BBQ ribs.
Chicken drumsticks, sausage pizza, and BBQ ribs.
2. What are your favorite toys?
Barbie dolls, (especially Anna and Elsa), swing set, Legos, and Saige.
Barbie dolls, (especially Anna and Elsa), swing set, Legos, and Saige.
3. Who are your favorite friends?
E., B., A., (my neighborhood!) Big T. and Little T., B$, and Gdub!
E., B., A., (my neighborhood!) Big T. and Little T., B$, and Gdub!
4. What do you like to do in your free time?
Watch Netflix (LOL), enjoy my family, doing wood projects with my Dad.
Watch Netflix (LOL), enjoy my family, doing wood projects with my Dad.
5. What were your favorite things from the summer?
Little Red Cabin, The Black Hills, camping, and my Fairy Godmother's wedding was my BIGGEST, FAVORITE one.
Little Red Cabin, The Black Hills, camping, and my Fairy Godmother's wedding was my BIGGEST, FAVORITE one.
6. What are you proud of doing after you finished kindergarten?
I learned how to remove old nails from wood. I can also read!
I learned how to remove old nails from wood. I can also read!
7. What are your favorite books?
The chapter books.
The chapter books.
8. What are your favorite TV shows?
Netflix- Scandal, CSI, Grey's Anatomy, Sophia the First, Peppa the Pig, Jessie.
Netflix- Scandal, CSI, Grey's Anatomy, Sophia the First, Peppa the Pig, Jessie.
9. What is something that makes you happy?
My family.
My family.
10. What would you like to be when you grow up?
Good question- I don't even know yet! Starbucker, mailman, Old Navy girl, a Vet ... The boss of the vet.
Good question- I don't even know yet! Starbucker, mailman, Old Navy girl, a Vet ... The boss of the vet.
11. What are you most looking forward to in first grade?
Learning how to read more and do math!
Learning how to read more and do math!
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