moominmolly: (me-horns)
I forgot about livejournal for a while there. I still love this place. If you've written sometihng interesting, recently, please link me to it in comments; catching up is hard and seems impossible.

So, N is 9. Very 9. 9 all over the place. She has crushes. Her body is starting to change. She's still full of ideas and plans and jokes, but I can see her adult self beginning to poke out here and there; I can't quite say why it makes me teary-eyed, but it does. It's sort of like staring the beauty of the universe straight in the face - I flinch.

It's not that she herself is beautiful (though she is), or that I am nostalgic for when she was littler and I could scoop her up and make the world stop (though I am) - it's that I am beginning to see so clearly the passage of time and the cycles in it. I see that this is who I will be ceding the world to, just as my parents did to me.

She commented recently that she didn't understand "happy tears". Tears, yes! Happiness, of course. Emotions too big to contain, all the time. But she does not get why an excess of happiness makes adults cry. And I'm thinking - when are the times that happiness makes me cry? I think they're all inflection points and times of transition. It's change. Change makes me cry: weddings, divorces, coming-of-age narratives, funerals. Watching someone step into their own power. A child growing up. A friend, drifted away.

And maybe change makes me cry as an adult, but didn't as a kid, because every change has a bit of loss in it, even good ones. And loss changes shape as you get older.

So I don't know. Sometimes, when she asks me a complicated question, I'm able to knock it out of the park. And sometimes I flounder. I'm quite certain I did not manage to convey in any way why adults cry when they're happy sometimes. But I haven't been able to shake the question, either. And I keep coming back to: I don't know, kid, but some day maybe you can figure it out and tell me.
moominmolly: (natalie-chomp)
I have a bunch of little Natalie anecdotes I've been meaning to post, because I've been thinking about her intellectual development, but this one takes the cake so much that it gets its own post.

[Late at night]
N: Mama! Mama!
Me: What's up, sweetie?
N: I'm scared.
Me: Did you have a bad dream?
N: Yes. [*snuggling*]
Me: That's hard. I'm sorry. It's OK, you're here now, and so am I, and it wasn't real.
N: *snuggles more*
Me: What's a nice thing that you'd rather dream about?
N: I want to dream about... NOTHING. I don't want ANY dreams.
Me: What about something nice we did today? Like swimming in the lake or seeing the chickens?
N: OK. .....No. I want to dream about astronauts.
Me: OK.

[She falls asleep and snores soundly all night. In the morning, she crawls into my bed.]

Me: Good morning. How are you?
N: Good.
Me: I'm glad. No more scary dreams?
N: No.
Me: Good.
N: But my dream was so scary! In it, the ONLY THING I could do to SAVE a person from DYING was to get a globe and turn it into a wolf and make it CHASE someone!
Me: Wow! That's complicated, and scary!
N: And it had to chase YOU!
Me: Wow.

*pause while I try to figure out what on earth to say to this*

Me: You know, if the only way you could save someone from dying was to make a wolf chase me, I would want you to do that and it would be okay. And it's still a really scary thing to think about.
N: Yeah.
Me: Yeah.

*another pause*

N: And then it chased ME!!!
Me: Oh no!
N: Yes. And then I put my nose up to its nose and looked at it and then we made friends and it was okay.


To be honest, I think that last part was her rewriting the ending after waking up, and maybe also remembering this picture:

IMG_4081.jpg

And that's okay with me. Rewriting endings to bad stories in your head can be a powerful tool.

But really? Weighing certain death for someone else against having to inflict frightening possible death on your mommy? That's a complex philosophical problem and I'm honestly not certain I'm equipped to tackle it at 7 in the morning.

It remains true: raising this kid is going to be very interesting.
moominmolly: (Viva Natalie)
Now that N understands nodding for yes, and shaking her head for no, we have had the following conversation several times over the past couple of weeks, with several different stuffed toys:

N: [picks up stuffed bear] "Cat!"
Me: "You have a bear!" [BEAR BEAR] "Bear!"
N: [shakes her head] "Cat!" [nods a lot]
Me: [shaking head] "Not a cat." [Nodding head] "That's a bear." [BEAR] "A bear is an animal."
N: "Cat!" [very emphatic nod]
Me: [points to cat] "That's a cat!" [points to bear] "That animal is a bear." [BEAR BEAR BEAR]
N: [looking at bear and whispering to herself] "Cat."

I love it when she whispers to herself at the end of a conversation, as if to say, "well, I know what's going on here, even if you don't."

The rules of the N-verse: All animals are cats. Cats are totally cats. Insects are also cats. Dogs and fish are cats, but sometimes also reluctantly admitted to be dogs and fish, especially now that we've started using a more fun sign for [FISH FISH FISH FISH].
moominmolly: (happy eyes)
D: Is it really Purim?

M: Yup.

D: AND St. Patrick's Day?

M: Yup.

D: Well, I might still be feeling sick, but I don't think I can pass up that amazing opportunity to be drunk...
moominmolly: (Default)
[Interior, cheesy bookstore, day]

M: If you were language, where would you be?

D: I think I'd be everywhere. Everywhere there are people.

(sigh!)
moominmolly: (Default)
Had a nice, active morning. I ran with [livejournal.com profile] lyonesse and did 2 miles in 20:20. As a special bonus, I didn't even feel like dissolving into the sidewalk afterwards. Tomorrow I may try my thighs at 3 miles. Later, we went to brunch and then [livejournal.com profile] fennel and I went out for a little midafternoon Pump It Up. I felt a bit wobbly, but good. My body never quite finished getting sick last week - it built up and built up and then I slept all evening on Thursday. Ever since then, I've felt weak and wooly in that post-flu way -- everything physical has been a little sub-par. So this morning was good -- I feel like I could (should?) have been better at dancing, for example, but I'm definitely not losing sleep over it.

It's like I have to continually convince myself not to run myself into the ground! I have good, rational judgement when I'm lifting, but aerobic exercise always makes me push myself until I'm a little sweaty quivering heap. Not very efficient. But I'm learning to temper that...

Got home and hung out with David, which is always a joy. My brother Rob called - he wants to borrow a huge chunk of cash to buy a *hotel* in Northern MI. So I played the "serious conversation" card on David to talk about timelines and mortgages and buying a house in Boston and such. We decided that the best counter to the "serious conversaiton" card would have to be the "on fire" card. I think that could counter anything.

"I can't talk about mortgages. I'm on fire."

"I can't wash the dishes. I'm on fire."

Of course, you could also play it on someone else:

"I can't have sex with you right now. I'm on fire."

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