Little girl, you'll be a woman soon

Too soon, in fact. Ugh. She waves now. It's just about the sweetest thing that I've ever seen. She was sick the other day, around 5:00 in the morning. I went into her room, changed her, and cuddled her against my shoulder. All of a sudden she pulled back, looked into my eyes, and drew back her hand to wave at me.

I almost cried as I said, "Hi, Baby."

She's beautiful, and she takes my breath away. This first nine months has gone so fast. And it has been so good. She thinks I'm beautiful. And that may be the best thing yet.

It's the baby, right?

Ugh. I'm watching Today this morning, and they are broadcasting from Freedom of the Seas--a new GIANT cruise ship. Some foster mom from Oregon was chosen to be the godmother of the ship, and she just did the christening.

I cried.

For the love of my child.

It was just before Ellie woke up from her nap that I found out that Jerry died. I went upstairs to get her out of bed, and the tears were still fresh on my cheeks. She put her chubby little hand on them and patted. She couldn't understand my tears or the words I whispered in her ear. "Sweetie, Mr. Jerry died. He loved you."

My heart was breaking while I cared for Ellie last Friday, because I remembered our last time with Jerry. He chuckled at Ellie, and she chuckled back. Oh, they loved each other.

He was the candy man at our church. He welcomed the little children who called him "Papa Jerry." He loved our children. And they loved him back. My heart broke on Sunday morning when Pastor Tim gathered the children to explain to them that Papa Jerry was in heaven with God. Ellie was home sick. But she wouldn't have understood anyway.

My heart broke on Sunday night when we stood in front of the casket, looking at the body that served as Jerry's home for 70 years. Ellie, restless in her father's arms, looked at Papa Jerry. No longer squirming or discontented, she stared at Papa Jerry. His body held her gaze for more than a minute. And then it was over. She didn't understand that, either. But she seemed to know it was important. She seemed to know that man loved her. We made our way to Nancy, Jerry's wife of 48 years. Nancy was so glad to see us. And Ellie flashed her charming smile. It brought a smile to the room. Oh, I love that little girl.

So how do I explain to her that she will forever miss knowing the man she knew for only 7 1/2 months? And how does my heart not break remembering knowing him and wishing we could know him still? Oh, I love that little girl. And that old man, too.

Better late than never.

I meant to post this days ago, but I'm a bit late because I’m a mother. That happens these days.

A while back my brother-in-law sent me a link to this new book called "Sippy Cups Are Not For Chardonnay." It is supposedly a compilation of essays that "deliver the straight dirt on parenting" (http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/12204538/). He asked for my feedback, thinking that I could easily write something better than this. While I think he may have been overly nice to me with that comment, if it gets me interviewed by Matt Lauer, I just may make a go at it!!

So my feedback on the excerpt I read is that it was just okay. One part made me laugh out loud, but I’ve now forgotten what it was. The issues that she wants to discuss are, apparently, not the issues I would want to discuss, but that doesn’t make her writing bad. Her point was definitely good. I can’t count the number of times I’ve lost my dignity for my daughter—and not just during labor and delivery—already, and I know that will only continue. That said, she felt a bit cynical to me, I guess. It’s probably because she is a comedian . . . I don’t get comedians. Maybe the full book is better, but I don’t think I would pick it up and read it based upon this excerpt.

I thanked him for sharing, though, because that one part made me laugh really hard. I remembered later that it was the swimming part—seriously, who would enroll their one-day-old baby in swimming lessons?! Who even knows that they HAVE a baby when it’s only one day old? It was also inspiration to write down some of my own thoughts.

And that's where this was born. So maybe it's a good thing after all.

That's a TALL order!

It's a high calling on life, to be a mother. It's an even higher calling to be a mommy. And while my ability to be funny may be subjective and I may only be a writer in my head, I am definitely a mother. And the little girl in the laundry basket chewing on a purple flower finger puppet and occasionally looking up at me to offer me a tongue-sticking-out, gummy smile seems to think of me as mommy. So there you have it. And that's a fine identity for now. Let's see what I can do with it.