Thank You, Grandma Rogers

My Grandmother, Caroline's Great Grandma Rogers sent this to me this morning, and as I read it, it reminded me of the "Confessional" post I made. Let this be a reminder to all mom's, especially myself, about how fast time flies and how precious is our time with the innocent souls in our care. Thanks for sending this to us, Gram!





To My Child Just for this morning, I am going to smile when I see your face and laugh when I feel like crying.

Just for this morning, I will let you choose what you want to wear, and smile and say how perfect it is.

Just for this morning, I am going to step over the laundry, and pick you up and take you to the park to play.

Just for this morning, I will leave the dishes in the sink, and let you teach me how to put that puzzle of yours together.

Just for this afternoon, I will unplug the telephone and keep the computer off, and sit with you in the backyard and blow bubbles.

Just for this afternoon, I will not yell once, not even a tiny grumble when you scream and whine for the ice cream truck, and I will buy you one if he comes by.

Just for this afternoon, I won't worry about what you are going to be when you grow up, or second guess every decision I have made where you are concerned.

Just for this afternoon, I will let you help me bake cookies, and I won't stand over you trying to fix them.

Just for this afternoon, I will take us to McDonald's and buy us both a Happy Meal so you can have both toys.

Just for this evening, I will hold you in my arms and tell you a story about how you were born and how much I love you. Just for this evening, I will let you splash in the tub and not get angry.

Just for this evening, I will let you stay up late while we sit on the porch and count all the stars.

Just for this evening, I will snuggle beside you for hours, and miss my favorite TV shows.

Just for this evening I will be patient as you get ready for bed, and I will simply be grateful that God has given me the greatest gift ever given.

I will think about the mothers and fathers who are searching for their missing children, the mothers and fathers who are visiting their children's graves instead of their bedrooms, and mothers and fathers who are in hospital rooms watching their children suffer senselessly, and screaming inside that they can't handle it anymore.

And when I kiss you goodnight I will hold you a little tighter, a little longer. It is then, that I will thank God for you, and ask him for nothing, except one more day...

---Author Unknown

..

Call the FAA!

So last night before bed, Caroline announced to us that we shouldn't come and check on her for awhile as she would not be there and we'd be wasting our time.

Calvin: Why? Where are you going to be?

Caroline: I'm going TDY.

Me: TDY? TDY to where?

Caroline: To Mount Olympos. I'm supervising a project for the Gods. They want to know how long it takes a human to fly from Stuttgart, Germany to Mount Olympos.

Me: Hm..is that so?

Caroline: Yes, and I'm packing right now.

Calvin: What are you taking?

Caroline: My running shoes, my memo pad to write down notes about my trip, and Violet.

So Calvin and I wished her a safe trip and asked her to let us know how it all went when she got back.

Ok, she said, no problem. We kissed her and sent her off for her journey.

Ten minutes later, as Calvin and I were watching a movie (this is, of course, after we got through giggling over her imagination) she stomped back in.

"Mommy! Daddy! My flight is delayed. We can't take off yet because we've forgotten something essential."

Calvin and I in unison, "Essential?"

"Yep, we need Juicy Juice. Quick! Got some?"

...

Well, I need that part....

I was cuddling Caroline, right? And I was overcome by this feeling of pure adoration for my sprout, so I told her. This is how the conversation went.

M: You are my whole heart, Caroline.

C: I am?

M: Yep, you are my heart AND my soul.

(short pause and a thoughtful look)

C: Am I your liver?

...

A Confessional, and A Reminder To Other Mothers

At your Great-Uncle Kevin's house, March 2002.
Play "cooking" with your Great-Grandma Rogers
Studying the flower garden at your first pre-school. I always loved your dimply chubby little hands so much.

Caroline,

It's a gloomy day today---54 degrees, drizzly, and just not a great time to be outside. So we drove to the farm that's about 30 minutes away so we could get a few bottles of fresh milk, which you love. You always want to put the coins in and fill up the bottles yourself.

Now that we're back you have your friend, Mila, over to play for the day. And while you both entertain each other and play-act and giggle your little hearts out, I am using the time to clean out my "craft closet". I say craft, but that's really just a nice way to put "closet in which all the junk gets put until it's time to move." And when we open the door and it all falls out on our heads.

Going through this closet is no mean feat---it's a full day's work at least. (Obviously writing here is break time for me). It is just chock full of stuff that shouldn't have been saved-----paid bills, scraps of paper, old string I thought I might use one day (??), Christmas letters from acquaintances we don't really know that well, etc. In short, no fun. Only occasionally, do I run across something that can be legitimately called "craft" stuff. Scissors, yarn, stickers, stamps.....all that.

But I am running across other things too, things which are far more precious, and things I should have found a better place for than in that closet. And these things are both wonderful and heartbreaking at the same time. Wonderful because they have to do with you.....memories of you, pictures of you, keepsakes for you. Heartbreaking because these things have reminded me once again how fast you're growing up and how much time I squandered not recognizing that. Some of the things, like the little clip of hair from your first hair cut, framed in a card, make me giggle--- remembering how you just would not hold still for the hairdresser. Your little bobble-head kept turning back and forth as your eyes kept looking for anything to stare at other than your own face in the mirror. Apparently you weren't as in love with your little face as I was. ;)

Other things have just brought tears to my eyes. Like your earlier photos. Looking at the pictures of your toddler self is hard. For one, I think I spent more time taking pictures of you than I actually did DOING things with you. I spent so much time snapping the camera that there was very little time spent in just getting to know you. Or at least it feels that way. Your toddlerhood is a blur in my mind and not nearly as clear at the photographs. I wish I'd taken fewer photos and played more games instead.

The second reason I'm feeling sad about them is that they remind me of my own impatience. I don't know if it was because you were my first and only and I didn't know better and I was just trying to be perfect and efficient, or whether it was something else altogether, but I do remember being way too impatient. I was impatient for you to hurry when you were toddling along on your chubby legs, impatient for you to hurry and spit your words out when you were learning to talk, impatient for you to listen instead of repeatedly getting into things I told you not to. I remember snapping at you for getting into drawers I'd told you not to get into, and I remember snapping at your for hanging on my leg when I was busy and couldn't pick you up. I remember one time in particular when we were visiting a friend's house and I'd told you twice to not play with their window shades but then caught your little chubby hands headed right back for those shades as soon as my back was turned. I snapped so harshly that you turned to me and began crying. I will never forget that. I felt guilty and horrible the instant I did it.

It's not that I snapped at you constantly, because I didn't, and it's not that I don't remember cuddling you and comforting you and giggling with you, because, Thank God, I do remember those times too. It's that those things--the things I'm not proud of-- tend to stick in my mind. The things I feel guilty about are the memories I don't want to keep, but they're also the ones that won't go away. Perhaps that's for a good reason. Perhaps that's my conscience reminding me to be more patient and more vigilant with the priceless hours. Either way, I wish I'd learned faster. I wish I could have somehow known before you were born that I would have to change my pace. Instead, I had to learn the hard way. I wish I'd known that those days would fly by, and that walking slowly with you, even when I was in a hurry, would have been worth the time it took. Being late for anything at all would have been worth the pleasure of watching you wobble along on your funny little legs. It was ok for you to take your time. And it was ok for you to learn at your own pace. Instead of snapping "No!" when you headed toward things you should not have been touching, I should have found something better to distract you with and I should have enjoyed watching you explore instead of considering it a nuisance. It was alright for you to take your time learning to speak---I should have listened more to what you had to say in the way you wanted to say it. I should have spent less time saying "Not now." and "I'll play with you later."

I will always regret that. Every moment with you was and is precious. It took me a few years to learn that, and the years I wasted trying to be a perfect mother are the years that I was anything but. I know a little better now. I'm still not perfect and I still make mistakes, but I love you enough to keep trying. I only hope that when you're grown up, it will be the good memories of your childhood that you keep.

From now on I'll try to look more at the here and now and less at the future. I'll continue to enjoy watching you grow up and I'll continue to try to let you do it at your own pace. I'll worry less about cleaning the house and try to enjoy making a mess with you more often. We're in the middle of your summer break and I have to tell you that I love waking up and getting breakfast with you every day. We don't have that luxury during the school year when we really do have to hurry. So I'll continue to enjoy what I've been loving for weeks now----spending time with you, going to the market with you, listening to the stories you make up, watching the movies you love and eating popcorn with you, listening to you laugh. This is way better than any photo.

I love you, Caroline.

Questionable Symptoms

So all throughout the past school year, Caroline's teacher, Herr Zappey, had the kids keeping journals. In them they recorded pretty much whatever they wanted as long as it was to do with happenings at home or in school that affected their own lives.

And at the end of the year, he took the journals and sent them home with each student to write in----they will turn these journals in when they go back to his class in late August. It's a pretty great idea, don't you think? Maintain the creativity, work on spelling and penmanship...all that.

Groovy!

Well, Calvin and I were reading her journal the other night and just marveling at Caroline's imagination, her eloquence and sometimes just the simplicity with which she recounts some stories. She's got a great grasp on the art of telling stories. But the simpler ones...the ones without embellishment.... were, for some reason, the best ones to us. Here's an example of one in which she tells us what happened when she and her friend Giada attempted to adopt one of the world's more helpless creatures:

Giada and I had a pet worm named Sebastian. But he died of diarrhea.

His funeral is today at lunch recess.

The End.

Diarrhea?

Calvin says that's 7-year-old-ese for "Squeezed the sh*t out of".

....

Incidentally....

...the Muppet has left the building and the blonde hair is back. I worried for awhile when that french lavender stuck around longer than it was meant to.


...

The Lately

Wow...I have been slacking in the blogging, haven't I?

Times have been good around the Hall house lately....or at the very least, busy, and Caroline has been the self that only she can be.

I've had to spend a lot of time with my ball team, practicing and going to tournaments, and Caroline has gone to all the practices and all the tournaments with me. While we're there she alternates between sitting in the stands with Calvin and watching, or running off to play with the other players' kids. By the end of each day she's completely filthy and sweaty---awesome! She needs that, like all kids do. ;o)

Her imagination hasn't suffered much either. She has built up an entire ark of imaginary animals who follow her everywhere and on whom she can ride when her "legs get tired". There are horses named Mazda, Honda, Toyota, Infiniti and Helga (?!), as well as a "seeing-eye cheetah" named Cheetoh.

She reads as voraciously as ever and is working this week on Mrs. Frisbee and the Rats of Nimh and The Black Pearl.

Here are a few photos of Caroline's life lately:

Making faces with pal and neighbor, Mila.



Running on the beach in Sweden.


Looking for sea shells.



Goofing off with Daddy in Sundsvall.


"Reporting" Mommy and Daddy for kissing. :o)


Yep, she definitely inherited Calvin's "serious" face.


Hanging out with her Dad on the rocks.


Playing in Nykoping.


The next two: Pretending to be Artemis, with her bow and arrows. Nykoping Castle.




Chilling out in the backseat during the drive from Nykoping to Sundsvall.

Move Over, P!nk!

Ok, so all year long Caroline has been asking me to dye her hair. She often sees her friends at school with pink or purple or blue streaks in their hair. It's the style at the moment, and I'm not entirely opposed to it. I think it's a cute, colorful expression of personal style and appropriate enough for a little girl. Here's the thing though: Caroline has fine wavy hair like I do. Not a blessing, I assure you. And this sort of hair holds on to colors and dyes like your superglue holds on to your fingers when all you wanted to do was fix that knick-knack your friend gave you that you never liked but always displayed to avoid hurt feelings and....I digress....

So I've told Caroline all year that she'd have to wait until summer when school was out. Just in case something goes wrong, right? At least in the summer, I can keep her locked in the dungeon for longer before anyone calls the cops.


When it came time to do the deed, she chose black instead of pink (she doesn't like pink right now--"It's for BABIES, Mom!"). Furthermore, she wanted her whole head dyed, rather than a few streaks. Naturally, I'm not going to let her go that far, so I told her she could have black but only in semi-permanent, so it would wash out in a few shampoos. After all, it's just for fun. We're not making any Jon Benet Ramsey's here.

The foam itself for this "Electric Black" temporary dye is actually a royal purple color, which turns black after 30 minutes on. Turns black except on Caroline, that is.

Her formerly beautiful blond is now a lovely shade of french lavender.* I have this urge to start singing Purple Rain. Or One-Eyed, One-Horned, Flying Purple People Eater. She really likes that one.

No worries though...let people stare, she said. Because now instead of being a gypsy or a pirate or Anne Boleyn, she is a Mermaid!

At least for a week.

*I would love to have included a photo here, but for some reason, on film her hair simply looks gray. Darn camera!

School Days and Anne Boleyn

My Caroline,

As usual, you are simply fascinating. I don't know many 7 year olds who even know who Anne Boleyn is, but you not only have a good grasp of her story (better than most adults I know), you have also adopted her as a character in your repertoire of play-acting parts. Now, it's true that we don't have an abundance of Tudor-type costumes to choose from in this house (try nothing, really) but that has not stopped your imagination from concocting something you feel is close.
The other night you came to me wearing one of my headbands (which you always tell me looks like one Anne Bolyen would wear) and one of my shirts, which I guess you think fits the picture as well as anything we have. The best part though, was your expression. Trying to imitate the portraits of the time, you adopted this imperious and prim expression, your chin up, your mouth pursed. I love it!



Just be careful who you marry, OK?


Today was your last day of school. And you, ever the non-conformist, decided to forego wearing your pyjamas to school as your friends were all doing and instead wore your pretty yellow chiffon dress that Grandma Myrick sent to you. You walked with confidence amazing in someone your age and you looked absolutely adorable. You got lots of smiles from people as we walked to your bus stop this morning.

Your little pink cardigan sweater over it, and your little sandals made you look girlier than you normally put up with.



And for the last bit of this post, I offer my congratulations to you. You aced your STAR testing, which your teacher announced to your class, AND your report card today was wonderful! You are definitely a smart little girl, and your father and I are so proud to see you putting that brain power to work. Not only in your academic life but in your creativity. The world is wide open to you!

I will end this post with mine and Daddy's love, and with the words of your teacher, Herr Zappey, who we are fortunate to be having as your teacher again next year. Herr Zappey, we are incredibly impressed with your dedication and skill. Caroline has grown---we can see it!---and it is obvious that you get a lot of the credit for that. We are so blessed to know we'll be seeing you again. ;o)


"Caroline has made outstanding progress this year! Her reading and written expression have flourished and her German has grown by leaps and bounds. Caroline has wonderful and creative ideas and gets other kids hooked! I enjoy her enthusiasm and dedication to principles! Thanks for a great year---see you in August!"

Golden Apples and Seafoam

My Caroline,
I'm glad to see your imagination is not failing you (except in the case of bells and angels ;o)~). We put you to bed at the normal time of 8pm last night, but when I came to check on you around 10, I found you sitting straight up in bed just staring in the dark with this thrilled look on your face.

I asked you why you were still awake and you excitedly informed me that you'd "just come back" from an adventure in the "Garden of Hesperides"! You recounted to me all about how you saw Ladon the dragon guarding the golden apples, and how you even saw the elusive Hesperides themselves. You'd tried to take a golden apple from Ladon's stash, but you accidentally dropped it and Ladon heard you. He almost caught you and tried to bite you, but you were saved at the last second by your pegasus named Blackjack. You'd only just got back and whew! Were you ever tired and ready for bed now!

And this morning? This morning as we ran to your bus stop, slightly late, you told me proudly that the reason that you're such a fast runner is that your shoes are made of seafoam and that makes you FAST!

*giggle* Caroline, I adore the very air you breathe. You make my own life beautiful.

Because you just never know what you might need....

As Caroline was leaving for school this morning, I picked up her backback to hand it to her. I noticed though that it seemed to weigh a ton. I asked her what was in it:

"Stuff I might need."

"For what?"

"Maybe an emergency. You never know when a natural disaster will happen, Mom!"

I told her that her teacher would take care of her in an emergency and that for now she ought to only take a drink, snack and her books to school. She sighed and reluctantly let me empty her backpack before we walked out the door.

When I got back I looked at the pile of dumped "emergency rations" on the foyer floor and what did I find?

--1 diary
--8 gel markers
--1 highlighter
--4 pencils
--22 scraps of paper with various unreadable markings
--a snail shell
--7 broken crayons
--1 drinking straw, apparently used
--1 ponytail holder
--1 reel of wedgewood blue embroidery string (I've been looking for that!)
--1 plastic toy zebra
--1 plastic toy elephant
--1 toy airplane
--1 tamagatchi
--1 2Euro coin
--1 dead earthworm
--1 plastic toy horse and...

..... no less than 9 large rocks.

Huh. ;o)


...

Caroline, Speed Queen

So Caroline has been learning to ride a bike lately. It didn't look so great the first day or two, of course, but it has been getting less and less injurious every day. With Calvin's patient instruction, Caroline is becoming less of a crash test dummy and more a little speed demon. He faithfully makes time every day and takes her down to our garage and lets her ride her little heart out, and he's always ready with snuggles and kisses when the inevitable cuts and bruises show up. Lucky us, so far, she hasn't made any bicycle-shaped dents in anyone else's car. She is also keeping a pretty good sense of humor about the whole thing. After one particularly ugly fall, when Calvin gasped she said, "Don't worry, Dad! That was just the gag reel!". Too many DVD Special features in this house? Nah!
Here she is riding while Calvin looks on:




A high-five after the session is up:




This is the helmet they picked out together for her. Check out the googly plastic eyes on the lady bug. This just tickles me. ;o)



Now she is anxious for her bike-riding lesson every day, though I daresay she won't need very many more. Go Caroline!

...

Where Have The Socially Acceptable Gone?

I wish this were going to be a happy post, but alas...not so much. I'm posting this for you, Caroline, so that when you are grown up, you will look back on this post and then look around you and be comforted (albeit barely) by the fact that some things never change.

Lately, you've been coming home from school and telling me about some disturbing happenings in your classroom. Namely, religious bullying. For example, several times this week and last you have recounted to me occurences of kids in your class asking eachother what church they each attend. Then, based on the answer, they decide for eachother who is going to hell and who isn't. The Protestants are doing this to the Catholics and the Catholics are doing this to the Protestants. And you are not spared. Indeed, since we don't attend a church at all, you are unequivocally going straight to hell, they say. That is clearly logical thinking. Of course, they have no idea what our family's religious beliefs are, but that doesn't put a damper on their making plenty of assumptions. A few of them have warned you that their mommies "said to tell you" that your soul is in jeopardy and that if your mother were any kind of mother at all, she would have you in a Sunday school program.

*sigh*

Caroline, it has been my experience in life that those who talk about God the most are the ones who keep Him in their hearts the least. They tend to be the mouthiest and the least sincere. They do not use religion to become closer to God. Instead, they use it to justify their vile thoughts, obsession with sex (meaning everyone else's sex), and their arrogance ("Christians aren't perfect, we're just saved!"). They remake God into their own image and then use Him to browbeat and condemn others.....rather like He's their own personal henchman. They almost always do this under the guise of "caring" about you and being concerned for your everlasting soul, and there is almost always a little gleam of glee in their eyes as they hope fervently that they're right about your future incineration. This helps them feel very pleased with themselves. But as you will have figured out completely one day, they are fooling no one but themselves. You have seen already how silly they look and how absurd they sound, strutting around like self-righteous peacocks.

That said, it has also been my experience that getting angry at these people does no good whatsoever. The only remedy is to feel sorry for them, for if anyone is deserving of your pity, it is these kids whose parents teach them to live on fear, both the feeling of it and the spreading of it. Those poor kids don't have a chance.

Bottom line is this: I'm dreadfully sorry you had to be introduced to this ugly side of humanity at such an innocent and happy time in your life. I'm also very sorry for those kids whose mothers train them to behave this way in school, and who apparently have no idea what religious tolerance means. Clearly, manners have escaped their notice. But I know you'll hang in there, my sweet Caroline, and I know you'll make intelligent and conscience-driven decisions about your own spirituality one day. After all, as Mother Theresa said, in the end it is between you and God and no one else.

I love you.
...

Your Head Is My Head and My Heart Is Yours

Caroline,
It has been sunny here for about two weeks now. It is truly incredible, as we (your Dad and I) never thought we'd see the light of day again, considering what a dreary winter, fall and last summer we had. But we were wrong. The sun still exists, and you've been soaking it up as much as you can, basking in it and playing your little heart out while simultaneously making Vitamin D with all your mitochondria.

Last night, in fact, I took you with me to my own ball practice and let you run around with your friend Kylie, a daughter of one of my teammates, while I chased balls around like a golden retriever.

When I was on deck to bat though, the batter ahead of me hit a fly foul that headed straight for the area behind the dugout.....the area I knew you were playing in. I cannot even begin to tell you how close I came to a coronary as I ran around the corner to warn you. It happened in slow motion. I watched that ball go up and then come hurtling down, and I watched with heart-stopping horror as it headed straight for the top of your little head. It was too late for a good idea, and all I could do was yell your name as I ran. You turned around just as it landed a mere foot from you, slamming into the ground with what could have been fatal speed.

I simply stood there for a second, staring at your precious face and your big eyes as they seemed to question, "What's the matter with YOU, Mom?".

My teammates must have seen the terror in my face because one of them came across the field just to tell me "It's ok, Trin. Calm down." even though I hadn't said a word besides your name.

I appreciate her concern and her trying to help, but between me and you, Caroline, no one will ever be able to understand how that felt for a few minutes, and how it still feels when I think of it. How close you came to being injured, or worse, haunts me. I daresay it will for a long time. I admit, I may be weird and I may be over-protective, but the fact is I can't hide that you are everything important to me, and I'd take that ball in my own head if it meant saving you from even a bruise.

I love you.






...

Let Me Count the Ways.....

Dear Caroline,

Last night you were playing around the house when you came to me with an empty tic-tac box and asked me to breathe into it for you. I asked why and you told me you wanted a "sample" of my breath because "it smells good". Weird as that is, it might be the most sincere way anyone has ever told me they loved me. ;o)






The other day you bought a set of rubber animal noses in the party favors section of the BX. The kind that strap on your head by an elastic band....rather like Groucho Marx noses and moustaches. The animal noses included were an elephant's trunk, a parrot's beak, a pig's snout and a lions muzzle. You insisted the moment we stepped out of the BX that Daddy wear the lion, I wear the parrot and you wear the elephant. We did---we unwrapped that package right there and donned our new identities. And we wore them all the way home, braving the stares from people in other cars and on the sidewalks. It was particularly entertaining when we stopped at a crosswalk to let people walk across, and they all rubbernecked the whole way, laughing and pointing at us. You were having the time of your life making people laugh. You were in the backseat laughing so hard yourself that you could barely breathe and little giggle-tears slid down your trunk. And your Dad? That guy who's normally pretty shy and unlikely to draw attention to himself? He wore it proudly and enjoyed it like a champ!

THAT is how much we love you. And we'd do it again.

...

Personally, I Prefer Salmon Paste On MY Butt!

This morning, I'm walking Caroline to her bus stop when she notices the Ivy that's growing up the walls in our complex.

"Mommy, what's that plant called?"

"That's Ivy. It's pretty, huh?"

"Um........poison Ivy?!"

"No. This is just plain Ivy. No poison. You can touch it."

"Whew! For a second there I thought if I got too near it I would get a rash and have to put that calamari lotion all over my butt!"


...

With Prune Surprise For Dessert.

Calvin sent Caroline to ask me what was for dinner.

I answered, "Mushroom and cheese quiche with spinach and pecan salad on the side."

"Ugghhhh! Oh MOM!"

And then she proceeded to run back through the house in a panic announcing to Calvin at the top of her lungs, "You're not gonna like it, Dad! We're having some monkey brain hot-dog stinkin' Hormel heart elephant soup!"



...

We've come a long way, Baby!

We just got back from Ireland early this morning, and let me tell you, we are exhausted. But it was a great trip! Lots to see and do, great food, friendly people, stunning scenery.

And we all had a great time of course, because we went along with our friends the Johnson family. Included in the Johnson family are two of Caroline's favorite friends, Riley and Brooke. Those three giggled and played and play-acted and just generally had an uproariously good time. But one day while they were walking down a flowered path to Blarney castle Riley was stung by a bee. Of course, we all gathered around her to make sure all was well and she was ok. Not only was Riley ok, but she was taking it like a champ. Not a tear or a whine, and considering she's only 8, that's pretty impressive. I said something to that affect. "Wow, Riley! You are so tough! Stung by a bee and you are taking it like such a trooper!"

Caroline agreed. "Yeah! If I got stung by a bee, I'd be crying and whining like a boy!"


...

Uh-oh.

For the last 5 days or so, we've been getting crazy weather. I mean crazy, even by England's standards, and that is bad. We've been waking up to a glittery white world every day---3 inches of snow. By early afternoon it is melted and the sun is shining, and by 6 or 7 pm it is snowing again. Weird sideways snow and we wake up the next day again to a winter wonderland and start all over.

To say that Caroline is enjoying this weather would be an understatement.
And this morning? This morning I'm walking Caroline to her bus stop and she's picking up chunks of snow and tossing them at trees and walls and whatever else looks like it could take a good pummeling. Apparently, my head looks like that too because when I'd stopped paying attention I suddenly felt a hard thwomp! I turned around to warn her only to see her standing there staring intently at the very snowball she'd lobbed at me, which had hit my head with the force of a cannonball and then fallen to the ground, completely unbroken.

The way she was staring at this snowball I can only describe as pure unadulterated delight, as if......as if she's just discovered the secret that will literally change the world. And then she shouts,

"Mommeeee!! Did you SEE that?? Look, Mom! RE-USABLE SNOWBALLS!"

..

Caroline, The New Generation

A favorite from December:

So while I try to instill sense and responsibility into Caroline, I also think it equally important that Caroline has a good sense of whimsy and fantasy and I try to ensure she gets a good dose of that too. Sometimes I wonder if I'm failing. The conversation this morning as the snow is falling, the tree lights are twinkling and we hear the church bells down the street pealing gleefully and loudly:

"Caroline! Do you hear the Christmas bells? Aren't they beautiful?"

"Mmm--hmm, they're pretty!"

"Did you know that every time a bell rings an angel gets his wings?"

A slightly worried look crosses her face..

"Um...Mom...when the bells ring, it usually just means some activities are going on at the church."

...and she nods her head solemnly, as if it hurts her to break such news to me.

Oh...

...

Dignity? Who needs it!

Today you made yourself a hat in school. Well, let me clarify: it's a paper bowl, the Dixie kind used at picnics for ice cream. You decorated it with pictures and scribbles of all colors before you upturned it and proudly put it on your head. That you were the only one in the class to do this didn't faze you at all and you were proud to show it to me when I came to pick you up.

10 minutes after school was out and we were headed home, you were in the back of the car, wearing a paper bowl on your head and singing "I Love Rock -n- Roll" along with Joan Jett at the top of your lungs.

Caroline, you could not be cuter if you tried.

...

Old stuff

Ok, this one is not new, and lots of you will have seen it already, but some of you will not have, and I wanted to add it to the record before I forget. ;o)

"Mommy?"

"Mmm-hmmm?"

"You know my friend, McKenzie?"

"Yep."

"Well, she's just moving on the base and there's something I really need to discuss with you."

Discuss?

"Ok, I'm listening."

"Ok, well McKenzie doesn't exactly know her way home yet, but I do because she lives by Riley and I know the way to Riley's house from school."

"Ok...."

"Well, on the days when McKenzie is supposed to walk home and she's afraid to because she can't remember the way, I think I should walk her home, ok?"

"That's nice of you, but you'd miss your own bus and then how would YOU get home?"

"Well, I've got that covered, Mom. See, I'll miss my bus and walk her home, and then when I get there, I'll just call you on that cell phone you're going to give me and you can come pick me up."

"Well, again, that's really noble of you, but I think that McKenzie's mom can walk her home on those days when McKenzie is feeling insecure. And I think six is a bit too young for your own cell phone."

doesn't miss a beat...

"Seven, then?"

"No."

"Eight?"

"Maybe thirteen."

"Oh, maaaaaaan!"

..

How about Tagalog?

I was on the computer last night checking the grades from my latest essays, when Caroline popped up with, "Mommy, why aren't you learning a language in school?"

"I did, honey. I took German."

"Why don't you learn another one then?"

"Because I've got other classes I need to do and I can't."

"What about Spanish?"

"No."

"Greek?"

"No."



(long pause)




"Hebrew?"

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Whimsy fantastic

Caroline, over the last few days, Daddy and I have watched with absolute fascination while you take your imagination and run with it.

Two days ago you drew a picture that you call "Squadron of Unicorns" ----a picture of a lot of flying unicorns (who strongly resemble dinosaurs) with everyone you love on the back of one. There are mountains underneath us as we all fly, and on the lead unicorn? You, wearing a crown. It's brilliant! I want to frame it.

And yesterday, you ran around the house making whale songs and insisting that you were a baby Beluga, a claim that you still stand by this morning.

Enjoy your Beluga food at school today, Baby Beluga.
Daddy and I really love you.

...

Probably not as much as the pig who provided the chops...

Tonight,

"Mommy, what are we having for dinner?"

"Rosemary rice and pork chops."

"Rosemary rice!"

"Yes, rosemary rice."

She walks away looking thoughtful. "I wonder what Rosemary will have to say about this..."

...

Because this is what Grandma wants to hear....

Tonight, while I was talking to my mother on the phone, Caroline wanted to talk to her grandma too. So I handed the phone over and sat back to let Caroline have a chance to tell grandma all about her exciting week. Because of course, she would have lots to say regarding protests and trees and solving the problems of the world and all that, right? Right.

Mom: Hi Caroline! I'm excited to hear about your week, so tell me what you've been up to! How are you doing?

Caroline, very dryly: Well, my lungs and nose are FULL of mucus.

And that, unfortunately, was when mom's phone lost contact with the cell tower.
Huh.

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The Small Warrior

Read here for background before proceeding. http://conversationswithcaroline.blogspot.com/2008/03/you-are-just-amazing-caroline.html#links

Ok, I have to admit, I had my doubts as to whether you'd do it, Caroline. When you told me you'd go out and protest today, and made your poster, I really thought that while I was incredibly proud, that in the end, when faced with actually standing up and doing it, you might be too shy. I didn't say anything because I wanted it to be, like it started, all you. Your choice.

But you? You grabbed that big green poster in your still-dimpled, tiny hands and marched your little self across that playground so fast that I, chatting with your teacher, didn't even realize you'd gone. And you stood there by yourself at the top of the hill, holding up that sign, silent and firm. And for a second or two, when I saw you, I could only stand there and look up at you, in awe of your determination and strength.

After a few minutes, a few of your friends came and joined you, and then a few more. A few left after only a few minutes, but a faithful few stayed behind and stood side by side with you.
Not wanting to influence you at all, I snapped a few pictures and then stood far away so that neither you nor your friends or teacher could see me, or the tears in my eyes. But I saw you.

Now, with your wonderful teacher's support and pride in all of you, your class is fired up. Your teacher is, as we speak, laminating all the posters your class made today to tie up to the fence tomorrow morning, and you and your friends will be making an announcement regarding environmental activism in the morning for the whole school on the inter-class radio.

Wow, Caroline........just....wow.
With Love, Mom

You are just amazing, Caroline.

Dear Caroline,

For the last few weeks you have been coming home and telling me about the forest just behind your school playground and about how currently it is being chopped down. You don't know why it's being chopped down, but you do know it upsets you. You have said this to me many times and very expressively. You have explained to me that those "chopper men" are "destroying our trees and air". And you have announced to me today that you will make a poster, gather your friends at lunch tomorrow, stand at the fence and hold your poster up to the chopper men and "protest".

Why those men are chopping down those trees, I couldn't say. It might be absolutely necessary, and it is likely that you holding up your little sign will be completely ignored by those men. It is also not inconceivable that some of the adults in your school will tell you to stop and go away and not rock the boat.

It doesn't matter.

You are using, for the first time, your right to protest and speak up. You will learn over time which battles are worth fighting and you will learn the right way to go about fighting them. You will learn that what works for one situation may not work for another. But for now, you are bravely standing up for what means something to you and you are not afraid.

I am proud of you. Proud that you are concerned about your world and the people who share it with you. You like your fairytales and play like any other kid, but they obviously don't rule you, and your worldview is very wide. I didn't provoke this or encourage you to do it---I can take no credit--you have decided on this action yourself. Where you got the idea, I don't know, and what makes you so sensitive to what is going on around you, I don't know either. But I am bursting inside to have such an aware, courageous, action-oriented human being in my life. I stand in awe of your fire and world-patriotism.

No matter what happens tomorrow, I'm rooting for you and your burgeoning spirit and responsible citizenship. I love you so much and I am so blessed to know you.


..

Too Much "Grinch"

Today in the car, the song "Mr. Sandman", by The Chordettes was playing on the radio. I was enjoying this blast from the old past when Caroline pops up with,

"Hey! Who is that singing? They sound like the Who's!"



.....

One of life's mysteries...

I heard "Seasons In The Sun" by Terry Jacks awhile back and it's stuck in my head. You know it.....

Good bye my friends
It's time to die
With all the birds singing in the sky...

..We had joy, we had fun
we had seasons in the sun...

...and blah blah blah...

So I'm walking around while getting ready this morning and singing it. Caroline comes up to me and says,

"Mommy, do you know why that song bothers me?"

"No, why?"

"If he's really about to die, then why's he singing so long?"





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