Happy Mother's Day

To the girl who made me a mother ... celebrating you today.

To my Grandma S.
My Mama.
The Dad's Mama.
And his lovely grandmother.
To my Godmother.
And the Fairy Godmother.
To my aunts.
To the Dad's Godmother.
And my friends who are Mamas.
To those who long to be.
And will.
And for the aunties.

For girls and women and ladies and chicks.
Celebrating you today.

Mama loves.

The House That Built Me

This is for my Mama ... and in honor of her 49th birthday today, the words to a song that reminds me of her, and me, and us, and where we're from. The House That Built Me, by Miranda Lambert.



I know they say you cant go home again.
I just had to come back one last time.
Ma'am, I know you don't know me from Adam.
But these handprints on the front steps are mine.
And up those stairs, in that little back bedroom,
is where I did my homework and I learned to play guitar.
And I bet you didn't know under that live oak,
my favorite dog is buried in the yard.

I thought if I could touch this place or feel it,
this brokenness inside me might start healing.
Out here it's like I'm someone else,
I thought that maybe I could find myself
if I could just come in, I swear I'll leave.
Won't take nothing but a memory,
from the house that built me.

Mama cut out pictures of houses for years.
From Better Homes and Garden magazines.
Plans were drawn, concrete poured,
and nail by nail and board by board,
Daddy gave life to Mama's dream.

I thought if I could touch this place or feel it,
this brokenness inside me might start healing.
Out here its like I'm someone else,
I thought that maybe I could find myself.
If I could just come in I swear I'll leave.
Won't take nothing but a memory,
from the house that built me.

You leave home, you move on, and you do the best you can.
I got lost in this whole world and forgot who I am.

I thought if I could touch this place or feel it,
this brokenness inside me might start healing.
Out here it's like I'm someone else,
I thought that maybe I could find myself.
If I could walk around I swear I'll leave.
Won't take nothing but a memory,
from the house that built me.

Happy, Happy Birthday, Mama.
You're my favorite.
You're the house that built me.

Daughter loves.

Letter from Mama, v29

You're something I have, and you're something I do- each and every day. Daughter/mother. Even on the days when I don't see you, I am actively parenting you. It's somewhat hard to put into words. Now, you're a girl and that means the ways I am with you are adapting as you change. Last Friday night, right before bed, we were pummeled with a good, old-fashioned hail storm. I quickly ran and got you, and pressed our faces against the cool pane of the glass in the sliding door. Look! I pointed, that's hail! It comes from the clouds- it's cold, and it mixes with the the wind and the rain when the formula is right. We stayed there until the hail passed- this was, after all, your first conscious experience with hail. It was a pretty big deal, for me to be there with you. In the morning, you inevitably asked where all the hail went- and I tried to explain that to you.

It dawned on me then, the weight that is parenting, and the bigger and more pressing it grows as you do. It's not overwhelming in a sad, terrified way- rather, it's becoming clearer to me just how awesome this responsibility is. I'm already teaching you some of life's biggest lessons. Tell the truth. Be nice to others. Listen. Apologize. Those four elements right there I am still teaching myself to do on a daily basis, and here I am teaching you at the same time. I have to be careful to set a good example for you. I have to practice what I preach. You're life in fast-forward and reverse, all at the same time. And I thank you for that. And at the same time, I ask you to forgive me now. For what, I'm not sure- yet. But someday, I will fail you, make a mistake, tell you the wrong thing, or show you the incorrect way. But that doesn't mean I don't love you- it will never mean that.

You came from the clouds- you're warm and light and mixed with Mama and Daddy and your formula is just right.

And Mama loves.

Questions & Answers

The purpose of the this blog has always been to capture the lil' dude's life- so there is no hesitation when she asks me down the road, "what was I like, Mama?" I will answer her, "well, where would you like to begin?"

...

Last night during bath time, I interviewed the lil' dude. At this point in her life, her personality is bursting through every seam she has, and her energies and quarks I'll never want to forget. So I captured a moment of our lifetime together.

Mama: What do you like to do?
Lil' Dude: Paint your toes.
M: What color is your hair?
LD: Red.
M: And, what color is Mama's hair?
LD: Red!
M: What's your favorite animal?
LD: Toys.
M: Tell me what's funny.
LD: This name, baby lil' dude.
M: What is your favorite snack?
LD: Berries.
M: And, what's your favorite letter?
LD: Play with the letters ... (launches into the alphabet song) ABCDEFGeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee ...
M: Who do you love?
LD: Lil' dude's house.



M: Where do you sleep?
LD: Right there- (pointing at her bedroom door)
M: What do you watch on TV?
LD: Timberwolves.
M: Who's your friend?
LD: E.
M: How old are you?
LD: TWO.
M: What color is the sun?
LD: Red.
M: What don't you like?
LD: Snacks.
M: What cup do you use?
LD: It's new one.
M: What do you like to sing?
LD: (launches into the alphabet song) ABCDEFGeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee ...
M: What do you like to do outside?
LD: Trucks!
M: What do you think is icky?
LD: Water.
M: Who loves you?
LD: Mama dids!

Wordless Wednesday

Coffee Cup Inspiration

Every so often, I sneak into Caribou Coffee for their milk chocolate mocha ... albeit coffee, it's just so different than my one true love, Starbucks. Yesterday was one of those days- and I was delighted with their new coffee cup- inspiration you can pour right down your throat and into your belly. Love it. So my darling child, here are some words for you, straight from Mama's cup of coffee joyfulness.



Get there on two wheels.
Tell someone you love them.
Hold hands, not grudges.
Take the stairs.
Kiss slowly, and forgive quickly.
Remember where you came from.
Do the hokey pokey.
Say 5 nice things about the person sitting across from you.
Sip it, sip it good.
Teach a child to fish.
Run your feet, not your mouth.
You are as wonderful as your dog thinks you are.
Take a 7 day weekend.
Go home early and play with your kids.
Max out your passport.
Technology is good, but people are better.
Stir emotions.
Question authority.
Roll down the hill.
Marry your sweetheart.
Re-read your favorite book.
Do more cannonballs.
Surprise your BFF with a cup of coffee.
Dream big.
Act bigger.
Build communities not empires.
Read poetry.
Send your grandma a card.
Give a kid some crayons.
Pick up the check.
Sleep under the stars.

Play

We go on certain kicks when it comes to entertainment at the lil' dude's house- last weekend it was all Little People transportation- the bus, construction vehicles, the pink SUV, and fire engine. My miniature traffic lady urged me to play, play, play. Push the bus- take the SUV to get tabs, then propane. Seriously, can you TELL she spends a lot of time with her Dad, running errands? What a sponge ...

We've had our stretches of playing house and babies and walking stuffed critters around on ribbon leashes. We build zoos out of blocks, and castles for the all the tiny dollies to live happily ever after in. We complete puzzles, race through the alphabet cards, and color until our hands cramp.

And then we have Up.


Pointing to Dug in her new book, a book she has slept with almost nightly.


Here she is hunting for snipes- looking under the kitchen cabinet for the mythical creature-bird from the tale.


And, Dug and his master the lil' dude, freshly exhausted after a long, fulfilling day of snipe-hunting.