Kids Say The Darnest Things

At bedtime on the evening of the first set of Olympics Sports that Emily watched this year, she said as I put her to bed, “Mimi I want to be in the Olympics when I get bigger. What sport can I do where I won’t get hurt?”

A few days ago, we were talking about how she missed her mommy and daddy. We talked about how Mommy and Daddy have Mimi’s phone number and they can call to visit. I told her, “Remember, there are talking doctors that can help you sort your thoughts while you wait for Mommy and Daddy to visit.” She said, “NO WAY! YOU are all the doctor I need!” I asked her, “What would she do if she was a mommy and her children lived with their Mimi.” Her matter of fact reply? “Well, you see, that would never happen, because I would be raising my children.”

Last night after ballet practice, George treated us to Taco Tico for dinner. EVERY single time Emily enters there she asked the same question to the employee at the register while pointing to the “Now Hiring” sign. “So, what about this? Can I be hired here?” The lady this time told her, “Awe, honey, you have to be sixteen to work here.” She dropped from her tippy toes, a position she had to be in to see over the counter and started counting on her fingers. “Eight more years. I have eight more years.”

When we got our food, as she scarfed hers, she very proudly said, “I want to run for president!” Oh, my, I would surely vote for you, Emily!!! I told her, you know why? Because you have a good heart, you care about people, you are smart and you try hard.

A few minutes later she said in a voice that seemed to be talking to herself… “I want to make a movie and be a star.” Of course I don’t know how much of her thoughts were provoked by the television playing in the corner. But then the news came on.

And there in front of my Emily was the devastated Syrian child shown again sitting  beside himself, in the ambulance, discovering blood on his face and wiping it on the seat as if to separate himself from the trauma. I can’t began to tell you the pain I feel when I see it. I simply detest the sensationalism. The thought that even as a grown man, his inner child will relive this moment because some sorry tail, selfish photo journalist wanted a “prize shot.” A prize shot...of no one giving to the comfort of the hurting devastated child...set the blasted camera down and do something important like give to the child who just had an unbelievable trauma occur. I was in disbelief as it was revealed to my granddaughter as she ate her dinner, despite my having been able to keep her from the exposure for so long now…I said, “This is why I do not let her watch the news. I don’t want her to see the bad in the world.” Emily then said in her self-preservation way…as if she can control the future…because doing so makes her feel safe… “That’s okay. I’m just gonna make sure it never happens to me.”

Kids…do say the darnest things…some funny…some touching…some so very heart breaking.

Slow Learner...But I Get There.

This morning, to face the stress monster, I decided a walk was in order. Holding my phone in my hand refreshing Facebook and Instagram was not healthy and I knew it. It's not that I don't have plenty on my to do list, it's just I said I wouldn't start it until I did some kind of exercise.

I got Hazel in the house and Amy ran in too. Oliver and Ricky were watching out the back window intently discussing loudly the reasons they should be on my shoulder. 

Daisy and I took off… passed the flower garden...Passed the area of tree line the deer bed down with Xena following all the way. She was running top speed. She was whining the whole way…my cat interpreter was recognizing small phrases, like, “wait up!”  “My legs are so short!” “I can’t cry and run, slow down!” 

I took a picture and knew as I did I would have to turn around and take her back. I went a bit further and called for Daisy to come back with me. Confused but obedient, she came. 

Getting Xena into the house, we turned to leave again. Daisy shoots to the work barn and Baby jumps out of the honeysuckle bush and runs to me in the field. It didn’t take me as far as it did with Xena to turn back with Baby. I rationalized it…she’s a bigger cat. She won’t go as far as we will…and I called for Daisy. Calling "Daisy" sounds uncannily like "Baby" so every step I took Baby came as quickly as possible. No Daisy, though. I head back.

I put Baby in the house, grab a leash and walk to the work barn. Getting Daisy by the collar as I converse with my landlord about the deer on the property, I detained ole Daisy Mae. 

This time…we are going to walk the perimeter of the property; NOTHING is going to stop us.

Part way around the property we stopped at the creek for Daisy to cool her heels then we headed onto the west side where the new alfalfa field grows. As we get into that area, I remember the coyotes coming back to this area after they checked on the deer a few days ago in broad daylight. I got myself a bit spooked as I remember I don’t have my weapon. I remember I don’t want to watch two coyotes attack my Daisy without something to assist my fur baby in the fight. But I keep walking. Why? Because I said, NOTHING is going to stop us. I start trying to think about what I have to fight with…a retractable leash and an iPhone. Not my choice of weapons. I think if something were to happen I could call the landlord for assistance…IF he could hear his phone over the noise of the cement mixer. I decided I could keep from the very edge of the tree line and maybe the coyotes wouldn’t be interested. I remembered the family of fox that were interested in Silas, Daisy and I a few plus years ago in the same vicinity. I thought about how Daisy was no match for a male and female coyote…that I was leading her into possible danger. 

So I stopped.

I turned around, took a picture of Daisy in a field of Alfalfa and headed back the way I came…I felt as if I had grown by leaps and bounds. 

I recognized the dangers and acted smart about our safety.

 I didn’t allow myself to keep going in the direction my inner being was telling me not to go. 

I faced the reality that I was not locked into a situation, having to “just deal with it and hope for the best.” 

I can set boundaries. 

I can allow myself an out, it doesn’t make me weak.  

And so I grew. 

And my physical exercise was not the only exercise I experienced…this morning, the morning Emily is off on her first day of third grade adventures.

Which way do we go, George?

We went from living together for a year, then married and living together for 26 years, then divorced, but together living apart now for five years. I can’t explain it and don’t really feel the need to even try. Sometimes though when certain paperwork has to be filled out, or when I introduced George to someone, there is a strong need to be truthful. If I say this is my husband, George then my conscience says, you’re divorced. When I say this is my ex-husband ,George, then my conscience says, he’s not your ex, he’s your partner. When I say, this is my friend, George, my conscience, who presents itself as Donald Duck, starts throwing files around, exclaiming proof of how George is much more than a friend.

Status papers take no place over history.

So Happy 32nd Anniversary to George, you know, the guy I love and with whom I share my life.