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Pink cast, pink rifle

Mimi's fantastic, glowing, pink cast.

Mimi broke her arm about a month ago, just before Easter weekend. In the olden days, I’d have immediately reported such a dramatic occurrence. Life is no longer me reporting my daily travels and travails with my toddler children, tho. We are now in full-on, elementary school and full-time work mode.

It seems insane to me, our schedule. Evenings are quick and condensed — homework, girls dinner, occasional baths, bed. They’re usually down by 9-9:30. I frequently fall asleep with one of them. They are really warm and nice to snuggle with.

So, Mimi was schlepping something down a flight of stairs, and this something was probably larger than her if past behavior is any indication. She missed a step or something and toppled and broke the ulna bone in her left arm. I hate the sound of children falling down the stairs. Hate. She was howling, poor dear.

Horrible as it all was, I can’t say I’m surprised. Though probably would have expected Beenie to be the first broken bone, as she’s a bit more careless than Mimi. They both take crazy risks. It was only a matter of time.

I think this was an important opportunity for both girls, this broken arm. Because after a while, a parent’s endless lecturing about what not to do turns into a Charlie Brown drone and kids just don’t believe they are breakable. Mimi now has a real experience to base future risk behavior on, which is not something my husband and I can provide for her. I’m glad it wasn’t her cute little neck.

The fabulous pink cast she was outfitted with seemed to give her super powers, or maybe it was the ridiculous amount of attention this beautiful, broken-pawed child received. She seemed stronger and more present the past month and a half than I’ve ever seen her.

Cast was fully signed and then removed this past Monday. She’s got a not-so glamorous navy removable brace that continues to protect her still healing bone, but at least I can wash that stinky arm. I missed lefty. She’s back!

Yes, it does seem unlikely that Keith and I would be hanging out. But he set it up. We were in a cavernous hotel bar in New York City, the kind you used to frequent back in the 1990s before they were all renovated. One of those. We met there. I don’t remember what I was drinking, or if I was drinking. Or if Keith was drinking. But who cares.

We spoke of art and music and Johnny Depp. He shaved for the event. And was a total gentleman. He wanted me to continue to make art. I needed that.

Thank you Keith, for your creative support and for just being there.

What the, who the…

I’m not disappointed, I don’t think I’m not meant to be who I am, but when did this all happen? When did children show up? Where am I?

 

Who Made God?

geometric diagram20/20 land is vast. Mimi and Beenie are almost 6 1/2. It pleases me greatly that my daughters are actually doing math on their own adorable twenty fingers and twenty toes. This month marks five years since those digits inspired/drove me to start writing about this parental experience.

February is quite gray this year. Its always the longest stretch, isn’t it? That last six weeks of winter. Reminds me a bit of living in Chicago, this winter. Except it hasn’t been too cold or snowy, but shit its been gray. Gray and then gray. Even Beenie commented on “another cloudy day”, that she missed the sun. I concur. She is full of complicated questions, that one. Earlier today she had me look up “Who made God” on the Internet. I still see it in the Google search field on the upper right of my browser window. There were many results for our search, and the discussion that followed was similar to other ones we have on the origin of God and whether or not God has a gender. Beenie is a scientist, and goes about building her God theory logically. I wish I had more definitive answers for her, but my replies are always the same… I don’t know. Some people think this, and other people think that, and I am pretty sure that God is a part of everything and every person. That there are lots of people that think they know about God, but the reality is, nobody knows anything. The greatest part of the discussion is that she doesn’t get freaked out by my lack of conviction — in fact, she seems perfectly content to add it to her research on the subject and then move on. I love that she thought the Internet would have the answer, and why wouldn’t she? You can find an answer to any question in this strangely familiar place. Maybe the Internet is God. Did God make the Internet?

 

Auto Focus

photo of a water lily
It has been a while since there has been a photo, eh? My computer is bursting at its little seams with digital photos. No more room. I’m paranoid about losing it all, which is why I back things up on an external hard drive, but I don’t really trust those, either. Better to burn to a CD plus the external drive.

Mimi asked if we could borrow a friend’s phone the other day, because her phone somehow produced photos on paper, unlike my camera or husbands phone. The situation is not quite as magical as that, however said friend does have lots and lots of her digital photos printed, unlike me. Which had me pause and wonder what its like to grow up in a time when photography is viewed on a screen, rather than in someone’s photo album or tucked away in a back drawer of your bedside table, or framed on a wall or desk. She craves the physicality of personal photographs that I grew up taking for granted. I got my first digital camera in 2001 and haven’t looked back since.

I can tell that my husband and I have been together a long time, because I have photos that I took with a film camera of him and his cat and my cat and our early, lovey years together. I don’t believe I’ve taken a single photo of my daughters on film, though I was able to capture some of their very early months on a mini DV tape. Where are those, anyway?

Forty-five

Yeah, that’s right. Yours truly turned forty-five today. Husband and daughters took me out for a tasty sushi lunch – I had to work today. Somehow, nobody was home when I got home from work, so I took a birthday bath, cut my nails, put on old lady eye cream. And here we are. You and me. I just finished several sentences.

The work day was annoying, though a friend brought in some donuts, many of which Mimi and Beenie inhaled when they picked me up for our noonish outing.

Work and family life suck up much of my time these days. Then it’s 10:30 and I can’t do much more than pick out my clothes for the next day and pass out.

Thought about having a birthday thing this year, but honestly, I’m just too tired. Would like to honor my inner bear and hibernate till spring. I don’t think that is such an unreasonable request. However, I doubt I will be granted my wish.

As I sit in front of the fake fire, watching Olive cat basking in its glow, lying on top of birthday presents assembled under the Christmas tree for yours truly, I am fully in the moment of forty-five. I don’t feel old, but definitely don’t feel young, either. Just here, now. Damp hair drying, short fingernails typing away. Not thinking about too much.

My Daughters are Six Years Old

I started writing something a week and a half ago, about how it is dangerous to be six – hell – dangerous to be a child in America. But I think it’s just dangerous to be a child period. You can’t quite protect yourself yet, your words don’t always accurately describe what you mean to say. Grown ups don’t always take you seriously.

My daughters turned six in September. I am grateful for every minute with them since they showed up, kicking and screaming and being themselves. I will do my best to protect them. But I will not arm myself with a gun, though the thought did cross my mind for a moment in the past weeks. I wish I could teach them to become temporarily invisible, without having the ability to use that trick on me.

 

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