I'm in TROUBLE

One of my darling daughters-I'm not saying which one- is upset that I write about her on Facebook. (I don't even KNOW what she'll say when she remembers this blog!) She does not appreciate me sharing stories about her, even among friends. She said she does NOT appreciate my posts. Her life is HER business.

I told her that I love sharing stories about her. (I realize that this sounds selfish.)

I told her that I would never share things that would humiliate her. (Now that she's ten...when she was little, I did share about mermaids in the tub, Tom Men, and having a "dent." See previous blogs for further explanations.)

I told her that the world loves to hear the intelligent, funny, adorable, quirky things she says.

She gave me the eyeroll.

"Please!" I begged. "How can I write about just one of you?"

We came up with an agreement. I will let her read and approve the post before "putting it out there."

I honor that. I would want the same thing from someone writing about me. I feel like we've just taken a giant step toward Teenage-land, but she's only ten!

I will keep my end of the agreement. I will NOT post anything about her on Facebook without her approval, even though writing is what I do. I will be consciencious toward her feelings.

Essentially, I now have an editor. A ten-year-old editor. I feel her gaze on every word I type.

How do newspaper columnists write about their families or their world without getting into trouble?

What about people who write novels that are "entirely fiction"?

NOT writing about my family (including this daughter) is like not using my arms for the day. Writing about the people I love is what I DO.

So I will go forward, cautiously writing tidbits that are probably meaningless to most of the world, all the while knowing that they mean everything to my ten-year-old editor who hopes to keep a shred of privacy and dignity despite having a mother whose life is like a coffee table book of art, open for the world to see.

The Circle of Life

Emma and I were scrolling through the television, looking for shows that would be interesting, and nothing good was on. We ended up on a show about animals. The screen showed a big, white goose chasing a very small fox.

"Oh!" I said, "look at the adorable goose!"

"What's she doing?" asked Emma. "Oh HOW CUTE! She's chasing that little fox. What a bossy goose!"

"Too funny," I agreed, when all of a sudden, the camera zoomed in and I realized why the goose was chasing the fox. The fox had a baby gosling in his mouth. The baby was STILL ALIVE, squaking, and the mama goose was running after the fox to get her baby.

My fingers fumbled on the remote. I tried to change the channel, but couldn't make the evil image go away. My fingers seemed to get wider and more awkward in their panic. I shouted with terror. "AWWWWWWWWWWRRRRRGGGGG!!!"

Finally the screen darkened.

My daughter and I just looked at each other with wide eyes. Her lower lip began to tremble. Suddenly, she whispered, "Why does stuff like that ALWAYS have to happen to us?"

And we both started to laugh. Loudly. We stared at each other, crying and then laughing, and then snorting and laughing.

"I guess that's the circle of life," Emma mustered.

Yes. The circle of life. The moments you adore. The moments you abhor. The moments in between. The fox and the goose. The fumble. The tears and laughter...and the moments that allow for both.

It's all soooo worth it.

These Have I Hated...

hairy spiders (sorry, Charlotte!)
walnuts
half-melted, dirty snow
being cold
hangnails
apathy
pills that get stuck in your throat
sweaters that are wet from the washing machine, and that feeling you get when you pick one up
headaches
mold on veggies that you JUST bought
foot cramps
p.e. 
kitty litter boxes
early morning meetings/appointments/anything
flat bike tires
tetherball 
microwaved frozen meals
the jeopardy song
slimy talk show hosts who provoke fights
morning breath
itches
neglect 
the word "x-mas"
grammar errors