I dedicate this to all the parents who have up and coming drivers.
I routinely clean out my purse when I've a) thrown out my back or b) when there is no room to fit smuggled candy into a movie theater.
Don't judge me. I'm not smuggling in my kids. Although...
Last night was Clean My Purse night. During the process, my 9 year old daughter sauntered into my bedroom and plopped down next to me on the bed.
I was separating the contents and mentally noting,
"...receipts...tissue, hot wheel car...more garbage...barbie shoe, old bank sucker...ewww."
Jaina eyed my pile-of-purse contents and asked curiously, "What's that? What are you doing?"
I took out my sixth tube of lipstick and put on my cheesiest fake grin feigning enthusiasm, "I'm cleaning out my purse."
I really don't like doing it, evident by the sheer weight that was recently threatening to sheer my arm clean off my shoulder.
Jaina snorted and immediately piped up, "Can I help?"
"Um, sure..." I know that her idea of helping and my idea of helping are vastly different but she likes doing projects together. I won't dissuade her enthusiasm.
I continued sorting out the growing mess and she popped open my wallet. Undoubtedly doing her version of "helping". She was ooh's and ahhh's over the shiny cards. She asked me about the mass of business cards. She laughed at my picture as she took out my driver's license.
Yeah, hardy har har. Laugh it up. Your turn is coming.
Jaina stared intently at all the information on the front of my license, "How do you get a driver's license?"
I gulped at the subtle reminder that it'll only be a couple more years until she is driving. Lord, help us.
"I had to take a test at the DMV. When I passed the test they took my picture and gave me a license." I ribbed her with a grin, "Even when you're grown up, you still have to take tests."
Jaina continued studying the front of my license. Suddenly, her eyes got bigger and she asked me incredulously, "WHY does it say S.....E......X. on your driver's license?"
She looked a little embarrassed and refused to look up from my license. Of course, she would. She's 9 and according to the word on the school playground, kissing boys gives you babies and/or cooties. And then you get married.
I smiled knowingly at the thought because Jaina and I have already had a modified version of 'the talk'. She is still quite content not knowing all the details. She sees hubby and I kiss and snuggle on the couch at times. Tame enough PDA but she also knows we love each other. The whole issue is normal, in her understanding, but not a huge deal to her at the tender age of 9. I happen to agree.
I'm a little curious, "What do you think that means?" I never know how she will process these tidbits but she never fails to pleasantly surprise me. Or make me snort with laughter.
Jaina was deep in thought with her brows furrowed in concentration for a few seconds. Her eyes swiftly shot up to mine, her's growing huge as she asked in a disgusted whisper,
"You got an 'F' in sex?!!!!"
She didn't quite understand what kind of testing they actually give you at the DMV. Needless to say, she was relieved to hear my explanation, "'F' is for FEMALE."
Yeah, certainly not that kind of test.
21 May 2010
Feeling BookishI'm starting on a few books. One I haven't read, always wanted to. East of Eden by John Steinbeck. I loved his Of Mice and Men so I've added another book to my ever-growing read list. I'd say summer-read list, but it should take me a long while to get through it all. I should be done by 2075.
Feeling SafeMy upstairs neighbor regularly comes to my door to chat. She decided not to come home on Monday essentially scaring the life out of her roommates and me, of course. Today she appeared upstairs, safe and healthy after I'd given my statement to the detective/officer dealing with her missing person case. Giving a statement to the police has always made me nervous. I'm sure it's a kickback to my childhood...maybe something deep-seated in my mind from foster homes. Or something even more traumatic like my distaste of polyester after a possible incident with blue polyester pants blown out in the crotchal region during school recess...or lima beans.
Seriously, lima beans are gross.
Feeling MusicalI have three whole songs now that I want and can't find on iTunes or in the big music warehouse down in P-town. They said to try Amazon.
In Love With A Friend by Deep Dish
Heima (acoustic) by Sigur Ros
and Progress by MuteMath
Let's make that four songs: Whatcher Problem Apple I Wanna Buy These by Bee Repartee.
The only upside is my project playlist to listen to my hearts content. If you are interested... my playlists.
Feeling Kinda DumbI found out today my college instructor is my age, older by only two months. This makes me feel a bit underachieved and frankly, dumb as a post because well, he is also a doctor. I am not.
Eleanor Roosevelt said, "No one can make you feel inferior without your permission." Obviously, she never went back to school after an 18 year sabbatical to learn about ciliated pseudo-stratified columnar epithelial tissue after cramming her brain with 10+ years of Blues Clues and potty-training.
Smart lady, that Eleanor, but no matter how innocuous BC's Steven and Joe may appear they are SO giving me permission on feeling inferior...without my permission. Know why? It's because Blues Clues is merely a cleverly disguised weapon of brain destruction. I could have been a doctor, remember? Of course you do. You probably haven't had 10 years of brain destruction either.
Regardless, I wouldn't trade my kids for the world. I'd take an "A" in my bio class but trading the world? Still no dice. I have my standards.
Dinner was sesame chicken teriyaki w/rice. Sauce from scratch turned out really good, too. My seven year old, Lolo, helped with most of dinner preparations only threatening once to destroy dinner with her contribution to the spicing: hovering over dinner with an entire jar of yellow curry. More importantly, an entire open jar of yellow curry. It was rescued and I swiftly replaced the jar with utensils du jour to allow Lolo's creative mind to engage in piracy...or teach Padawan manners...or perhaps direct the kitchen orchestra. As she sat on the counter in her red and white checkered apron and wielding double-fisted utensils, I couldn't stop the grins and quickly committed the scene to memory. After bellies were soon sated with dinner, homework was done, and I felt nothing but thankful for many things.
Music that played and filled the house.
A book next to my bed, just waiting to be explored.
My family is safe and healthy.
I will get my degree, barring apocalyptic events.
Full of thanks to have cooked something yummy with my seven year old jedi/pirate/conductor.
Yes, Eleanor. I feel content and give myself permission to remember with my heart and my head.
It doesn't get much better than this...
~Listening to: The Heart of Life by John Mayer
at 11:42 PM