bright things

Things on Tuesday, 8/12/08 edition

nobody@vox.com(Megan) — Tue, 12 Aug 2008 12:58:39 -0700

Loathe:

Nails in tires.
Waking up alone every single day.
Paying speeding tickets.
Knowing it's my own fault.
Thinking about what I could have done with $124.
Having Sid wake up to find me at his house instead of his mom as expected, and having him yell, "NOOOOOOO Tia!!!" at me.

Love! Love! Love!

Getting morning snuggles with my baby girl.
Being so close to her little face while we lay together on the couch that I can see every individual eyelash and freckle.
Having her open her eyes, see me watching her, and hear her whisper, "I love you Tia."
Working with a lot of good men who are my friends, and having more than one come ask me if he can change my tire for me.
Having a brother-in-law that is the best brother I could ask for.
Telling really bad jokes at the lunch table with my boys. (Did you hear about the guy that got in an accident and lost his left leg and his left arm?? Yeah, he's all right now...)
Sid finally smiling at me once his mom got home. He has the most infectious little smile.
Having enough money to pay all my bills, plus my speeding ticket, plus have a little left over.

Looking forward to:

Football season starting! Go Seahawks!
First tailgate party of the season on Saturday.
Getting my cable turned on finally, in time for football season.
Buying a brand new tv for the first time in my life.

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shark week transcript

nobody@vox.com(Megan) — Fri, 08 Aug 2008 14:56:36 -0700

This is a transcript of an actual conversation that happened between Stella and I while watching a couple shows about sharks and why they might attack people.

Stella: So sharks eat people, huh? (a bit nervously)

Me: Well, sometimes baby, but they don't cruise around looking for people to eat. And besides, they wouldn't eat you, you are way too sour. (with a smile, trying to put her at ease)

Stella: (after a few moments thinking) They would probably eat Sid, cause he is orange flavored.

Me: (laughing, looking over at Sid's bright orange hair) How do you know he's orange flavored???

Stella: I don't. But I bet a shark would think so and want to find out.

Me: (after calming down enough to talk) What flavor am I then, if Sid is orange?

Stella: Hmmmm... Maybe strawberry? Or cherry? But you're right, I am definitely sour like a lemon.

Me: I was thinking more like a pickle, my little baby dill!

(Conversation degenerates into tickle/wrestling/chomping/giggling fight, as I try to test my theory about her flavor by biting her arm)

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kissing for money

nobody@vox.com(Megan) — Thu, 07 Aug 2008 09:17:33 -0700

When Ian and Stella were babies, they were a wee bit stingy with their kisses. Oh, how I would beg and plead and kiss my sister and my mom trying to make them jealous. Nothing worked. Nothing, that is, until I came up with the brilliant idea to offer them money. It didn't matter how much money it was, it could be a couple pennies or a dollar bill. I would just say, "Give Tia a kiss!" and when I didn't get one, I would say, "If you give me a kiss, I will give you money!" and sure enough, I would get a sloppy little baby kiss.

Now, this was before they really understood money. In fact, most of the time, I would end up gettingthe money back when they lost interest. After a while though, I wondered what I was really teaching them. So I came up with an even BETTER idea than my first one. I said to baby Ian, "Hey love, come give me a kiss and I will give you some money." He ran over, wrapped his little arms around my neck, gave my lips a resounding smack, and then stood back with his grubby little hand out, waiting for me to place some money in it. I looked at him for a second, smiled, and said, "Don't kiss people for money."

I thought this was pretty hilarious. Especially since they STILL fall for it sometimes. Okay, not Ian so much, but I don't have to beg for his kisses any more. And Stella gives me more kisses than six people, so most of the time I have to tell her how many more times she can kiss me before I have to leave. But my sister and her husband didn't think it was so funny. They said stuff like, "You are teaching them they can't trust you." I said, "No, I'm teaching them that they shouldn't sell their affection. That it should be freely given or not given at all."

This wasn't really my intention in the beginning. I wasn't trying to teach them a life lesson, I was just trying to get my quota of kisses even when I didn't have some change in my pocket. I think that if it would have greatly upset them, instead of just making them laugh, I wouldn't have done it so often. But since they are smart little things, and happy and well-adjusted, I don't really feel that bad about tricking them.

Tia kissing sid

Especially since I tried my Kiss Me For Money Trick on Sid the other day, and before he even processed what I was asking him for, Stell grabbed her little brother and said, "Sid! Noooooo! Don't kiss people for money! Not even Tia!" I laughed and was happy that she had learned some kinda lesson, and even happier that she didn't say something like, "Don't do it, she never pays up!"

And I ended up with my baby kiss any how, even if I had to take it.

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all Stella, all the time

nobody@vox.com(Megan) — Tue, 05 Aug 2008 07:58:16 -0700

Okay, so I'm thinking about changing the whole function of this journal to just talk about how much I love Stella and how great she is and yadda yadda yadda. Not really, but I figure I need to write this down, because I want to remember little things like this forever.

On Saturday, when I got to my sister's house, she said, "Tia, what's wrong?" I told her that my back hurt, and just to humor her, told her to rub the small of my back. She patted me with her tiny hands, and then my sister showed her how to really press into my back with her little fists. I barely felt it, and it did nothing to make my back feel better, but it made my heart a lot lighter.

About five hours later, we were cuddled up on the couch watching Shark Week on tv, and my back was killing me the way we were sitting. I had to make the kids get up, and then I stood up, and leaned over touching my toes, trying to stretch the muscles out. About half a second later, I felt her little fists again, in the small of my back, just rubbing away.

I almost cried. It's one thing to love another human so much you think it might consume you, but then add to that equation that they love you back, in the same kinda way; it's almost too much to think about. So instead of thinking about it, I'll just enjoy it.

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Vox Hunt: Accepting Bribes

nobody@vox.com(Megan) — Sun, 03 Aug 2008 14:42:47 -0700

Show us the best way to bribe you to do something you really don't want to do.

Stell

The best way to me to do anything I don't want to do, is to be this little girl, and look up at me just like this. Or any other millions of ways she has. Gawd I love her more than should be humanly possible.

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a love letter

nobody@vox.com(Megan) — Thu, 31 Jul 2008 07:23:15 -0700

June 5th, 2005

Counting freckles

Dear Stella,

Hello my sweet, I want to tell you a story. I'm writing it now, so that I can remember all the details, but I'll be giving it to you later, when the details will matter to you. I know they will matter, because it's a story of how you were when you were three, and I was twenty-seven, and there wasn't much that mattered to us except that we loved each other, and we could hold hands whenever we wanted, and the sun was shining, and we had a dollar to spend at the candy store. I know they'll matter to you, because the stories that are told to me, about when I was your age, are stories that I keep, and pull out often, to tell myself.

The day that you were three, and I was twenty-seven, and the sun was shining, you were in the bath when I arrived at your house. I went in to talk to you, because your mother knew that you'd be pleased to see me. You were swimming like a mermaid, and your hair wasn't wet yet. It was a big brown cloud around your head, full of fuzzy ringlets. We laughed and talked for a few minutes, and then you showed me how you could wash your own hair. I laughed some more at the way your face looked when you poured the cup full of water over your head. I was laughing, and I was there in that moment with you, but I was also in another moment. Another moment when you were mere minutes in this world, and I was holding you in warm water to give you your first bath. I was amazed at how slippery you were, there in my arms, and I tried so hard to hold you without hurting you. Somehow, there's a lesson in that first bath. A lesson in how to love someone without holding them back, but that day, I didn't see the lesson, I only felt your skin, and hurried to return you to your mother.

After your bath, you ran around the house, with wet hair and a towel for a cape. It's completely universal, for towels to become capes after baths, and I hope that you take comfort in knowing that you were just like every other child, in so many ways. Your mother finally corralled you, and started to help you get dressed. You were proud of your new panties, and even though I was pleased, it was bittersweet that you were growing up so fast. When you were dressed, you had on loose jeans that I suspect had once been your brother's, a striped tank top of yellow, blue, pink and white, and navy blue salt water sandals. Your mom asked you how you wanted your hair fixed, and you replied matter-of-factly that you wanted a low pony tail at the nape or your neck. She complied, but as she was doing so, you requested that she place the pony tail at your forehead instead. She told you that it wouldn't work, and you accepted her answer with ease. I could tell it was a conversation you two had engaged in many times. I asked your mother about it, and she said it was true.

And then we were free. Just you, your brother and I, and a walk up to the candy store, which was really a gas station, but we called it the candy store, because candy was the only thing in it that interested you and your brother. It was late May, and it was one of the first days that felt like summer. It was almost evening, but not quite, and the light was like a present. I remember the way daylight looks like other people remember what smiles look like, and that day, the daylight was like a huge grin. We started walking, and your hand was in mine immediately, I didn't have to ask. Your brother was riding his bike, way ahead of us on the street, so it was almost like we were alone. It was maybe a fifteen minute walk, and you talked the whole way.

You told me about your new best friend, but you couldn't remember her name. You told me how you were going to hold your new girl baby, and how you sometimes put your hands on your mama's belly, trying to feel movement. I asked you if you thought the new baby was going to be a girl, and you said yes, like I'd asked you a silly question. I asked you what would you think if it was a boy instead, and you wrinkled your little nose for a moment, and said, "I will be the big sister, and I will teach her to walk like this," and then proceeded to give me an example of some kind of robot, or maybe zombie, walking, and I thought maybe that was how you thought babies walked. I told you that your brother helped you learn how to walk, and your eyes lit up.

We laughed, you and I. We laughed at what we said, and what we didn't say, and we laughed like we knew a secret that no one else knew. You wanted me to run, and so we ran, holding hands. And then we would slow down, walk for a few minutes, and you would demand running again. Yes, you were demanding, and I'm not afraid to tell you that. I know who I can be demanding with, and it's the ones that find me beautiful. I know who they are, I can tell by the way they look at me. There aren't many people that I'm demanding with, my sweet. But you, you my little babushka, you were demanding with everyone. And rightfully so. Even at three, you know by the way everyone looks at you, that you're breath-taking, and you have the right to be demanding.

Nice outfit

When we arrived at the candy store, you were quick to pick something. Which was unusual for you, and I took as another bittersweet sign that you were growing up. We walked back home, and then I had to leave, and you were sad. You told me that you needed me to stay, and your pretty pout was almost my undoing. But because I wasn't three, I was twenty-seven, I knew that I had things to do, and you had a bed to find, and I left quickly, after many kisses that somehow weren't enough for me.

You'll see when you read this, that it isn't really a story. It doesn't have a plot, and it doesn't make you laugh. There's no apparent lesson, and it doesn't give you some perspective on your life. So maybe I shouldn't have called it a story.

But when you read this, when you're grown, I want you to see yourself as I saw you, and hopefully you'll understand why it's so hard for me to walk beside you now, without wanting to hold your hand. I don't know if I'll still call you my baby when you're twenty-seven, and I'm fifty-one. I don't know how we'll be, if you'll still call me Tia. But I do know that I'll never forget how you looked, and I'll never forget how it felt for you to reach for my hand like it was nothing. Like it was as easy as breathing for you. I tell you now that you'll always be my baby, and you tell me that you aren't a baby at all. I finish by saying that even when you're as big as me, you'll still be my baby. And it's true.

Ask me when you read this, ask me if you're still my baby. And when I can't say anything, but I take you in my arms and hold you so tightly, I bet you'll know.

I love you, Stella.

Tia

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Vox Hunt: Worth A Thousand Words

nobody@vox.com(Megan) — Tue, 06 Feb 2007 16:37:52 -0800

stell-belle

Show us a picture that's worth a thousand words.
Submitted by sami711.

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