And Now She Is Six

Dear Girl,

Today is your sixth birthday.

I'm rather remiss this year, writing to you at 10:10pm, after the festivities are finished, after both birthday and Christmas are retired for yet another year. You are sitting on the couch right now, in your new pink penguin pajamas, playing with yet another obnoxious electronic game, the fascination of which is something you've managed to gain this year. (Streaks of your father in you, no doubt.)

Even if I could have predicted the roller-coaster ride my life would take over the last twelve months, I don't know if I would have done anything differently in being your mom. I found myself being purposeful in my actions toward you; trying my best not to take out frustration or outside hurt on you. You are as ever my bright, blonde shining star, even when it seems you don't want to hear what I have to say.

I was so excited to have you along for the ride during our summer trips this year. You were aware enough to ask questions about the things you saw in the airport and the reasons why things appeared outside your car window. You tease me about my musical obsessions, saying things like "Mommy, you love John Mayer!" And when I tell you "no, I love John Mayer's music; I love Daddy" you simply giggle and roll your eyes, a mere shadow of the teenager brewing inside and awaiting her debut in six short years.

You're halfway there, Girl. Take it easy on us for a little while, won't you?

Last year's letter could also have never predicted the fact that you will become a big sister in a little less than a week. When we told you that we would have a new baby, you found out on the same day we did. I took the fateful test, had a private conversation with your dad, and then we looked at each other and simply called you into the room. The last seven and a half months or so have been filled with questions from you, mostly to do with when the baby would come (after your birthday), whether it would be a brother or sister (sister, as evidenced by the ultrasound you got to witness in August, and I will never forget your expression and giggle as you watched the alien ballet on the screen while the technician scanned my belly), and reminders that you will be a good helper, and will remember to keep your toys off the floor.

I suppose I'll be writing another of these letters next week, and your presence in our new baby's life will be paramount. She will look up to you, and, one big sister to another, it will be your job to talk to her when she won't talk to me, as much as I hate to think either of you would ever be in that position. Until that time, my sweet Girl, enjoy your world of princesses and imagination, and be willing to share it with your sister when she asks.

Another situation I could never have fathomed was your need for speech therapy. It came upon me not long ago that some of your adorable proclivities weren't resolving themselves, and true enough, the school's analysis rang true. I believe you will grow out of it; I believe half of your issue is that you are thinking at twice the speed your mouth will move. But I also believe you are you, and you will adjust in your own time, just as you always have. You'll start the therapy when you return to school in January for the second half of Kindergarten, and you'll tackle it with aplomb, just as you swam circles around the other kids in your Level 1 swimming class this fall.

I am, as ever, inordinately proud of your growth, physically, intellectually and emotionally. This year will be another of firsts, from learning to live with a new baby, to riding your bike without training wheels, to advancing in swimming lessons and perhaps tackling a new activity (dance or basketball? Whatever you'd like, my Girl.) Sometimes you'll win, and sometimes you'll lose. You won't always be top of your class, or the best, or the most special. Learn your moments and take pride that you have done your own best. I always will.

The world is your oyster, and you are a pearl in it. Never ever doubt that; for even as imperfect as they sometimes are, they each contribute beauty and depth to the world, in their own special way.

I love you, my dear, sweet, firstborn Girl. Happy Sixth Birthday.

Love,

Mommy

Bad Mommy

Did you ever have one of those can't do anything right, dropped the baby on her head, forgot to turn the coffee pot off, check engine light went on in the car, missed the due date on the credit card bill, don't want to put the Christmas tree up, terrible, horrible, no-good, very-bad days?

Welcome to today. Population me.

Today started out just as any other normal day would. Running slightly late, but got the Girl off to the bus stop just about on time, breakfasted, and dressed for the weather.

I got myself dressed and then headed off to school, to finish my outline and take my Misdemeanors final. Spent all morning in the lounge, in the zone, all things are well. Afternoon exam session started at 1:30pm, and I was done with the final around 3:40 or so. Packed up, turned in my exam to the Registrar, and was met by one of the assistant registrars.

"We got a call from Safety and Security."

This would drive fear into the heart of any student.

"It's about your daughter."

This made my heart drop to my knees.

"Apparently, today was an early release day for the schools and she got home, and got scared that nobody was there. Somehow she managed to get hold of Safety and Security, and everything's fine...they got hold of your husband, but they called over here looking for you, and we would have pulled you out of the final if something were wrong, but we wanted you to know."

It was at this point that I had one of those parental moments. Somewhere between fear, anger, neglect and self-hatred resides a monster of a different sort. This is the one that says "no, really. It was you that took a completely controllable situation and fucked it up because you've had seventeen thousand other things on your mind, not the least of which is your daughter."

Needless to say, I rushed home, and found the Boy and the Girl at the neighbor's house. We walked home and put the pieces together.

Apparently the Girl got scared when she got home and found nobody here. (I was taking my final, naturally.) As previously stated, it was an early release day, meaning she would be home two hours earlier than normal (around 2pm instead of 4pm.) Now, preface all of this by saying that she has arrived home before me on a few occasions, and she's been instructed to stay in the house and wait for me -- I am generally home within 10 minutes of her arrival and she doesn't freak out. This semester I had a class that met once a week and let out about 5-10 minutes after her bus arrived. Ironically enough, this class was the final I took today.

Moving on.

She waited about 15 minutes and when nobody came home, she apparently went outside (dressed in her coat, boots and snowpants, thank God) and got noticed by the neighbor, who promptly invited her in and got enough information out of her to call her school and get the school to call the Boy at work.

Whilst the school got hold of the Boy, the neighbor called over to campus security and got them working on finding me. (Meanwhile I'm in a sequestered exam room, with my cell phone off and my computer working offline in exam software mode, and hence, incommunicado.)

The Girl stayed at the neighbor's until the Boy got home. I got out of my exam, got the news and immediately took off for home as quickly as I could waddle.

When all was said and done, we are very lucky nothing happened. Lucky that the neighbor was home, lucky that the Girl had the wherewithal to know that the neighbor was a safe place to go, lucky the Boy wasn't out of town on business, lucky that the school got hold of him right away.

I am still waiting for the lump in my throat to go away, for the guilt at not having looked closely at the school calendar to subside. My hands are literally shaking, and I could care less about how I did on the stupid final. The Girl is no worse for the wear, apparently. The Boy and I are about as wrecked as two parents could be.

We now have the name and number of the neighbor. We're going to type up a laminated card for the bottom of her backpack with all of our info as well as campus info for me. And we're going to get her a pay as you go cell phone which has numbers programmed into it, and we'll teach her to use it so she can call one of us directly if something like this happens again.

I'm also going to teach her how to walk to the law building and to the safety and security office so she knows where to go to find me or find help.

And next semester, I'm getting extra copies of the school calendar to post in every room, computer, calendar, Outlook, alarm and cell phone in the house. This will NOT happen again.

The horrid part of it is that this could have been prevented. I should have been more mindful, I should have checked the calendar, I should have done ten other easy things to make sure she was cared for. The exam I took today was self-scheduled. It would have easily kept until tomorrow morning. Or next week.

I keep thinking about how she could have gotten picked up by a stranger or run over by a car, or hundreds of other horrible things that you hear on CNN... I keep picturing her little body at the bottom of a ditch, or frozen or frostbitten or worse, simply gone and vanished into thin air. I hear Amber Alerts all the time for kids, and every time I hear one I pray to God that child returns home, and I thank God that it's not my Girl.

It may seem blown out of proportion, especially to the non-parents who read this, but when you're one step away from shoulda-coulda-woulda, and it's your child's safety on the line, I dare you to feel otherwise.

I'm fairly well wrecked right now...and things will be better in the morning. I doubt it will stop me from waking up every couple of hours tonight, just to check that she's still asleep in her bed, safe from the cold cruel world for at least one more night.

Too Much Spongebob, or How I Spent John Mayer's 31st Birthday

The Girl has a four-day weekend starting today, and I have no school this weekend! Full of win.

I had a doctor's appointment today. Officially, I'm 28 weeks, and in my third trimester. This pregnancy has flown -- on one hand I feel like I've been pregnant forever, but on the other hand, the past 28 weeks or so have been some of the best of my life. I'm in such a good place right now... school is (mostly) under control, the Girl is thriving in Kindergarten, I'm healthy, and I've dealt with so much crap in the last year that I think it's time to take some time for myself and sit back and enjoy.

Yes, this time of year is rough on me. I have had so many bad things happen during the cycle of Libra, which is really strange considering it is normally a time of balance. Perhaps I'm supposed to get my bad out now, in order to balance the good and Awesome that happened this summer? Karma can be a bitch, if you believe in her I guess.

Anyway, I plan to do some school work this weekend, but I also plan to camp out with the girl, watch too much damned Spongebob, bake some banana bread and catch up on laundry, and generally chill.

Today, we did just that. Except the part where we went to the OB's office. The Girl was thrilled -- she's beyond excited for this new baby and she loved the idea that she could go and hear the baby's heartbeat. I also had to take my glucose challenge test, which should frankly be against the law for its grossness and disgust. (Come in early after fasting 3+ hours, drink 5 oz of nasty flat cola soda without bubbles, go see the OB, come back, get blood drawn and pee in a cup, await result.)

The idea is to see if you have either developed or have the possibility to develop gestational diabetes, which can be bad bad bad if undiagnosed. Ironically enough, I purposely scheduled this appointment on the 16th, because I knew I wouldn't forget it if it was on JM's birthday. Such is the life of a fangirl.

In case anyone's interested, the appointment by the numbers:

Fetal HR: 150 (rock steady at this rate since we first caught it. This kid is nothing if not consistent).
Fundal Height: 32cm (appx 3-4 weeks ahead, again consistent)
BP: 130/65 (top number high most likely because the lab monkeys had their heads up their asses, and it got me riled up)
Weight: +3 since last appt, +10 total pregnancy.


In other news, looks like JM is back with his last girlfriend. I actually think they are pretty good together...they just have to work out a timeline that's good for both of them. I really hope if they decide to have kids together they decide to move someplace quiet -- this latest brouhaha with the police escort in front of his house is just too much to put a kid through. I also hope her ego is strong enough to handle living somewhere like NYC or another place where nobody cares who they are. I do wonder if her ego is feeding some of the crap, but I don't know her personally. He seems to have no problems slipping back and forth between the public and the private, and it's nice to go a few weeks without seeing a picture of him at dinner. I love it when he gets a week of positive publicity for spending time teaching class and mentoring music students at Berklee. If I had a birthday wish for JM this year, it would be to be happy and be in love, but make it all about the music.

Happy Birthday, John.

Preschool Graduation

The Proud Graduate, With Matching Footwear



Look Ma, A Diploma And Everything!



Proud Family

They played Pomp and Circumstance. I had flash-forwards to June 2021, when this scene will repeat itself, only the girl will be slightly taller and have adult teeth. I hope.

Next up in cap and gown for our family? ME!

Pa-Hoe-Nix

Oh, Summer of Awesome, you have fruitfully blessed me, despite your youth. I shall sing your high praises and write ballads to your awesomeness. I shall remember that you have another 10 weeks of awesomeness to give, and I will not forget the awesomeness you have already given.

You are indeed, an Awesome Summer.

Round about Spring Break, my mother offered me a spot at her timeshare in Phoenix, right after finals. The idea was a girls' weekend, with no agenda. Fun and relaxation. No pressure. After confirming a spot was open for Kate to be included, we booked our plane tickets and reminded ourselves on a near-weekly basis of the impending trip. We also booked ourselves in at an amazingly awesome spa and counted down the days. "We're going to go sleep in the desert for four days!!" "And go to the SPA!!!" "And THAW OUT!!" Color these two Midwestern girls excited - and I doubt we could have done better in our reward for finishing up our first year of law school. The facial ALONE was worth the spa trip.

I will never forget laying under the shade umbrella, lounging next to the pool at the spa, drinking in the desert mountain scenery and feeling the warm, yet perfect weather. I took a lot of mental pictures that day - and the feeling of warmth that imbued my skin and head will be there in my head, bottled up for the winter days ahead. Ahhhhhhh...Phoenix.


The Mom and The Girl


The Kates on Vacation



Sassy Traveler Girl!

Summer of Awesome

I hereby declare the upcoming season, colloquially known as summer, lasting generally from Memorial Day Weekend (commencing on or about May 24, 2008) through Labor Day Weekend (ending on or about September 1, 2008) to be the Summer of Awesome.

The Summer of Awesome shall involve the following events:

1. A visit from Jordana and Todd

2. A trip to Phoenix with Kate, the girl, the mom and the sister for four days' respite, sleep, pool lounging, spa pampering, shopping and general laziness in order to shake off the rigors of a year of law school and the Most Stupidest Winter Ever.

3. A quick bout of summer school, ending on or about June 5.

4. A visit to Tennessee to see the in-laws.

5. A roadtrip to Summerfest with the sister in law to see AKeys on 7/1 and JM 7/2.

6. Continuation of said roadtrip to the S-T-L to party with the sister, see JM 7/3, and watch the fireworks over the Mighty Mississippi from Gateway Park.

7. A quick return home, then a roadtrip to Danskin Chicagoland with Sooz 7/12-7/13.

8. A quick return home, then yet another roadtrip to Chicago to meet up with girls from all over the nation, flying in to meet up in the Windy City for JM 7/18, and a girls' weekend downtown to follow.

9. My first Olympic tri on 8/2 - 8/3 in Duluth.

10. My 2L year starting on 8/9.

11. Y camp for the girl at a drastically reduced rate (and only when we need it!) approximately three days a week, and getting to keep her at home with me twice a week to do fun mom/daughter stuff.

12. Campaigning for Franken, hopefully for a bit of law school credit.

13. Minnesota State Fair the last weekend of August, winding up on Labor Day.

The official end of the Summer of Awesome shall occur on or about September 2, 2008, when I send the girl off for her first day of kindergarten. I'm not sure how I feel about that. I do know that she will know how to write her name, will likely wear a dress, she will be carrying a pink Hello Kitty backpack, will hopefully have her hair arranged in some semblance of order, and will pose for a picture outside our house.

Three weeks til finals can't pass soon enough. I'm ready to be done with being a 1L.

(And yes, you did count that correctly: I am going to three JM shows this summer.)

Smatterings

It's Memo Week, which explains my notable absence here. Law school is kicking my arse but good, and I can't help but feel overwhelmed that my first year has ended so quickly. Seems scary.

My parents' final divorce hearing is on Friday. I hope they are happier without each other than they were with. I hope Dad feels like he can move on. I hope Mom doesn't feel guilty or like a failure.

Mostly I hope they have the fortitude to shake hands, say goodbye, and let each other go. Not an easy thing to do after 33 years, one week and six days. But who's counting?

The girl is in the wait pool for Expensive Private School - we had an interview last month and unfortunately she did not get offered outright admission. As a veteran of the waitlist, I understand completely. The boy was devastated - I was less so. Mostly because the worry of the tuition price tag was just lifted. There's still a chance she could get in, and I certainly hope she does because no matter the struggle to pay the bill, it's a fantastic fit for her. "We believe Girl would thrive at EPS" said the quasi-rejection letter. I couldn't agree more.

We're now on the hunt for another school for her. School choice is such a double edged sword.

Off to outline and memo.

Yesterday's Training
Walked 3.2 miles with my sister in law outdoors. I desperately needed the sunshine and though the lake was still covered in thin ice, it was a glorious day.

Girly Talk

This morning at the breakfast table, after a round of Idontwannagodaschooool (Mom 3, Girl 0):

Girl: Darn it!

Me: Girl, we don't say that. It's a grown up word. How about...pickles!

Girl: Darn it!

Me: Tartar sauce!

Girl: Darn it!

Me: Barnacles?

Girl: Mom, it's my new word and I want to use it! Darn it!

********

New words in her vocabulary: organizing, bloom, and ridiculous. "Ridiculous" has actually been with us for quite some time - since about age 2 1/2 - 3 or so. However, she now pronounces it correctly - it used to be "a-dick-a-yus." She still has a few baby steps to go with her speech - mostly mixing up m's and n's (nusic is a prime example) and she will substitute a "th" for an "f" at the end of a word ("stuth" instead of "stuff"). She also adds an "n" onto the front of "used to" (so it comes out noosed to).

Her mind is so alive. Light bulbs go on for her every day as she continues to explore the world. I see the evolution of her person, her sociological self - it happens month by month, sometimes week by week. She gets frustrated when we jump to conclusions and isn't afraid of letting us know when we simplyaren't listening. She is by and large a mindful child - at every center and school we've ever used, she's gotten exemplary praise from her teachers as to her ability to follow directions and mind the teacher. I think she'd go stir crazy if she didn't let out her disobedient side at home - nobody's perfect and we try not to pressure her in that way.

I once read that the parents' job is to give their child space to grow and become their own person. I couldn't agree more with that statement - too many times parents choose to live vicariously through their children, impressing their own lost dreams and desires upon them without regard for the child's feelings. Would I love the girl to be a world class pianist? Absolutely - she's got the fingers for it, no doubt. Would I love for her to take dance class and gymnastics? You bet - I wanted to be Mary Lou Retton, and I never bothered to ask my parents for dance class because I was convinced they would say no.

When she comes to me and asks if we can do something, or if she can take lessons on something - I think it will be my job to give her a hug, check the bank account, and say, "Yes. You can do that." And then help her see it through.

My thoughts are all over the place this morning - but it all comes down to wanting the best for my girl, and learning her inside as well as I know her outside.

Oh Good Lord, Not Again

This morning, the girl and I were lazing about in bed, talking about the day ahead, and not doing much to extract ourselves from our cocoon of blankets and pillows and warm bodies.

Once again, she asked.

"Mom, can I get a baby sister?"

Uhhh...well, see...ahem, well...why do you want a baby sister?

"'Cause Ruth has one and she gets to hold it." (Ruth is her best friend at school.)

So you want a little sister like Ruth?

"Yeah, and um, Ruth has a big sister too but I can't have one of them because I already was born so I just want a little sister."

I thought you wanted a little brother?

"No, well... I want a sister, I think."

And what would you want to call her?

"Josie! I like Josie. It's a nice name."

Yes. Yes it is. Okay, kiddo - time to get up out of bed.

Twice in a month. Good Lord.

And now for something completely different:Sooz and I went swimming at school today - it felt GREAT to get back into the pool. I may keep a training log here just for simplicity's sake. Doubt if I'll get deeper than just a list of what I did - if I do, I'll make it a training-specific entry.

Swim: 100 warmup, 5x100 free (30 sec RI), 50 kick, 50 cooldown. 30 mins total. 700 total distance

Curious George Goes To Law School

Further evidence that my brain is being warped, nay addled, nay MOLDED into thinking like a lawyer.

It was my turn to do the bedtime routine tonight with the girl. As usual, we read a story, and tonight's selection was Curious George and the Dump Truck. During storytime, my brain began to fire away at the legal ramifications of George's actions, and after I tucked the girl in, I absconded with the book and immediately signed in to GChat to confer with my colleagues. NB: I am "me" and my friend Kate is "Kate". Sooz makes a cameo appearance.

Sooz has joined
Kate has joined
me: i have a question for you both
Kate: hurry - I have to study!
:)
me: it has to do with school!
is curious george committing a tortious act if he climbs into the cab of the unattended dump truck and spills the load of dirt into the pond in the park?
who's liable?
Kate: yes?
me:can we hold george as well as the city gardeners jointly and severally liable for the damage inflicted on the pond?
Kate: can we hold a monkey liable?
doubt it
Sooz:watching the biggest loser!
Kate: therefore, the city gardeners are fully liable
me: or do we have to bow to respondeat superior and sue whoever the contractor is who employs the gardeners
Kate: we can probably sue both the gardeners and their contract
me: and if they are employed by the city and it's city land
Kate: plus the city because they have big pockets
me: the city can't sue itself right?
Kate: oh, the city is suing?
Don't know why they'd want to sue themselves
No, the city would sue the contractors and the gardeners
George is safe, since he's a monkey
me: or could they hold the gardeners personally liable because they left the truck unsecured and unatended
Kate: they'd probably try for them all
me: yes, but he's a good little monkey and always very curious!
Kate: but he's still a monkey
me: ok
Kate: therefore beyond the arms of the tortfesors
me: so could they go after The Man In The Yellow Hat?
Kate: probably
me: as George's guardian?
Kate: because he should have been watching George better
But wait
People sue little kids and not their parents so I don't know
me: george escaped from the house and followed a row of ducklings to the park
hmmm
maybe i should bring this up in torts...professor r might get a kick out of it
Kate: But since he's a monkey and they can't sue him, I think they could sue the Man in the Yellow Hat
you should bring it up!!
Say you read a story this week
me: and this is what law school is doing to me - i can't read my daughter a bedtime story without thinking about a possible tort!
Kate: and wanted to know who could get sued!
Hahaha
me:it was her bedtime story tonight
geeeez
Kate: figured as much
me: ok - as you were
Kate: OK, time to start Ks
me: i can just see it: Girl, Mommy has to take Curious George to law school today.
Kate:She's prolly get a kick out of it
me: ok

True story.

New Music: The Ladies Are In The House!

I'm not generally one to brag about my Christmas gifts. However, the one thing I will say is that 2007 was a musical re-awakening, and Santa was good to me in terms of music. Not only did I get some great new albums, I got a new stereo, something that had been sorely lacking in Casa K8 for a few years. This one is awesome on another level - it's got an iPod connection so I no longer have to suffer my earbuds for hours on end whilst studying at home.

There is some amazingly great music coming out these days - I think the pop scene is starting to swing back toward the "singer/songwriter" scene, which I absolutely favor over the formulaic, "pretty girl/boy, sing about love and love lost" thing that gets sent out over the airwaves every few years. Pop music is a pendulum and it seems to me that, whilst there are plenty of ways to enjoy it all, I will go for a couple years where I buy a new CD every week or two because there is so much good music coming out. Then after awhile, I'll go a few months, up to a year, really, without buying anything because there's nothing worthwhile. I tend to download the tracks I like on the radio, if for no other reason than I end up with a really cool mix of music that makes me remember where I was when I first heard it.

I'm in a CD buying period right now, so I want to write down a few of my recent musical procurements. I tend to look upon a CD as a piece of artwork - often, there are a couple songs that draw me in, but I appreciate it as much for the photography and the liner notes as I do the music inside. And my first listen is ALWAYS uninterrupted, all the way through - no repeats. I like to get my first taste of the work as I'd hope the artist intended.

Seems as if the boys are out to pasture at the moment - I love me a boy with a guitar, don't get me wrong...and I'm thisclose to breaking down and springing for the new Lifehouse and/or the new Maroon 5 (though not really new on either count - I think I just like the music more now that I've had a chance to let it marinate for awhile via the radio). Today's theme is the girls - I've gotten three amazing CDs from three amazing female artists. Two of them are girls with pianos, one is a girl with a guitar. Two are relatively new, one is a Grammy winning veteran. All of them hit me in a different place, and they all suit my moods beautifully.



Alicia Keys, As I Am

I was so excited for this album to come out, I actually went to Borders a week early because I had the release date wrong! I'll admit, Lesson Learned, the collaboration with JM, was what originally drew me to this record. I knew and loved Miss Keys before this, but never bothered with her albums, and I now know what I was missing. I adore her radio work, but As I Am is a career-defining album. She's got a fierce piano style and her vocals have matured beautifully - she goes from sweet church singer straight to throaty full-on dark soprano in a matter of a key change and a piano run. It's clear she's stretching her style, but her artistry and interpretation are second to none. My favorite tracks are probably "No One, "Go Ahead" and "Lesson Learned." I also dig the sentiment in "Teenage Love Affair" - I remember being the girl who rushed home to wait for the boy to rush home to call the ONE family phone line, so we could talk for an hour before dinnertime (and if you remember this feeling, you are at least as old as I am, because none of us had cell phones and text messaging back then. I think that might have been a good thing.)



Colbie Caillat, Coco

If forced to define "California" in musical terms, three things automatically pop into my mind: the Beach Boys, Dick Deltone (the surfer song dude who performed "Miserlou" - otherwise known as the theme from Pulp Fiction), and Colbie Caillat. I pop this lovely little CD into the stereo and it doesn't matter what I'm doing - making dinner, studying, cleaning the house, I'm automatically transported to a beach in Southern California. You know her as the girl who sings that "Bubbly" song on the radio, but her album is just a lovely collection of sand dollars and beach glass, and if I had to describe the music in non-musical terms, it's how you'd feel, sitting on a beach, wind in your hair and sun on your shoulders, the waves tickling your bare toes. It's just that effervescent and upbeat. It's a lovely escape from the oppresively cold Minnesota winter - even if my feet are cold, Colbie warms my spirit.

The music isn't terribly challenging or complex, with a couple exceptions, but it's clear that Colbie has a career ahead of her - her vocals are clear and tonally beautiful, and though she has some help in the guitar department, I think her songwriting will evolve as well. She's very young - only 23 - and she's got a lot to learn. However, this is a strong debut album and I can't wait to see what she'll do next. She's doing what a lot of young artists do - defining their sound and writing what she knows. My personal picks: "Midnight Bottle," "Tailor Made," and "Magic."

"Midnight" seems like a torch-bearing love story, but as a mom, I pick up another meaning. Perhaps Colbie didn't mean it this way, but I hear the lyrics and I picture a new mom and baby, up for a midnight feeding, and the mom is thinking back to life before motherhood, possibly dealing with some baby blues. Maybe I'm projecting my own situation...but that's what it brings to my mind. Take a look:

Midnight bottle take me come with me my memories and everything come back to me
Midnight bottle make it real what feels like make believe so I can see a little more clearly
Like every single move you make kissing me so carefully on the corners of my dreaming eyes

I've got a midnight bottle gonna drink it down
A one way ticket takes me to the times we had before, when everything felt so right
If only for tonight...A midnight bottle gonna ease my pain
From all these feelings driving me insane, I think of you and everything's all right If only for tonight

Got a midnight bottle drifting off into the candlelight where I can find you in your time
A midnight bottle I forgot how good it felt to be in a dream just like you had me
'Cause lately I've been stumbling feels like I'm recovering
But I think it's only for tonight



Sara Bareilles, Little Voice

Sara B. is my most recent acquisition, as I picked it up a couple days ago on a Target run (eggs, milk, new closet storage, laundry soap, new music - gotta love Le Tarjhay). A big bonus (beyond the music, which is both beautiful and soulful), is the fact that "Love Song" - the current radio single which is burning up the airwaves - is one of the Girl's favorite songs. She's really been getting into music lately, and I recently showed her the Youtube of the video for "Love Song." She played "piano" on the dining room table as she watched on my laptop, and attempted to learn the lyrics and sing along. Any music that moves my kid works for me.

However, Sara's album is, without a doubt, a contender for a Grammy next year - if it isn't Album of the Year, she should be up for Best Female Pop Vocal, or possibly Song of the Year for "Love Song." This album is a tour de force - Sara pulls no punches in her vocal style. She's got a strong, throaty alto with incredible range. She does a great service to her own songs, bringing passion to each note. Her piano and guitar skills also show up nicely, though she has help in the studio from a few recognizable names, including Jamie Muhoberac (who did studio keyboards for JM). Especially notable for a harder texture than you might expect: "Morningside" and "Vegas."

Top picks on this album: "One Sweet Love," which I pick for the next radio song, and should be a Top Ten hit without batting an eyelash, and "Many The Miles." MTM is a gospel-soaked song of healing, and it hit me in the gut the first time I heard it. I've been immersed in the song and the lyrics for the last couple days - I think they speak for themselves. As someone who tends to read ecclesiastical sentiment into anything, I can't help but think the gospel-style arrangment was purposeful. The opening piano sounds like you'd hear in a Baptist church on a Sunday morning, and echoes the start of "Seasons of Love" from Rent. I don't know if Sara is praying or pleading, or healing or begging...but I know that the best gospel stirs the soul, and that's exactly what happens when I listen to "Many The Miles." In a way, it's what I want to be, and in a way, it's exactly where I am.

There's too many things that I haven't done yet
Too many sunsets I haven't seen
You can't waste the day wishing it'd slow down
You would've thought by now, I'd have learned something

I made up my mind when I was a young girl, I've been given this one world
I won't worry it away
But now and again I lose sight of the good life, I get stuck in a low light
But then love comes in

How far do i have to go to get to you?
Many the miles
Send me the miles and I'll be happy to follow you Love

I do what I can wherever I end up, to keep giving my good love
And spreading it around
'Cause I've had my fair share of take care and goodbyes
I've learned how to cry and I'm better for that

How far do I have to go to get to you?
Many the miles
Send me the miles and I'll be happy to follow you Love

Red letter day and I'm in a blue mood, wishing that blue would just carry me away
I've been talking to God, don't know if it's helping or not
But surely something has got to got to got to give,
'Cause I can't keep waiting to live

How far do I have to go to get to you?
Many the miles

There's too many things I haven't done yet
Too many sunsets I haven't seen

Indeed. Thanks, ladies, for your gorgeous music.

My Girl Is Five

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Girls become lovers, who turn into mothers,
So mothers be good to your daughters, too.

-JM, "Daughters"

Dear Girl,

You turn five today.

Five years ago, at 8:07AM, after driving through wind and snow, after being laid down on a table and being cut open, after facing an army swathed in hospital blue and feeling as though a steamroller was placed directly on my lungs and chest, you were born.

I knew exactly what your face would look like, so when I saw you for the first time, I knew immediately it was you. In the back of my mind, I remember thinking that perhaps they kept a stockpile of babies in the scrub room of the OR, and instead of being pulled from my body, they merely went back, picked the one that looked closest to the parents in the OR, and presented it to them.

Of course, I know this was merely the wild thought of a woman deranged and high on morphine and spinal anesthesia.

I wish I had a more exciting story to tell you; I wish I could say that my water broke in the movie theatre or at a holiday party, or someplace exotic. I wish I'd known what real labor was like- but your shoulders were too wide to allow you to descend properly, and thus your head never engaged, and thus my body didn't know you were ready to be born. Thirty years ago, this might have caused me never to be able to have other children. Fifty years ago, we might have survived, but only after a month in the hospital. A hundred years ago or more and we'd be lying together in the churchyard.

Today you turned five, and received a new dress and three Barbies and a big girl bike, complete with training wheels and a matching Barbie princess bike helmet. You squealed with delight at the mess we made of the dining room, festooning the ceiling with pink and purple crepe paper strung from the ersatz chandelier. We followed old traditions- I made a huge family breakfast and we all gathered for the express purpose of celebrating your birthday. I've done this every year since your 2nd birthday and plan to make it a yearly event, no matter where we are. I always make quiche and banana bread, and you always get a balloon on your birthday. This year, we added a new tradition: you had a dozen pink roses on the table, fit for a princess and presented to you by your family. The poinsettia and wreaths were banished to the living room. This might be Christmas morning, but today is your birthday and we make a point to celebrate it every year.

You might ask us one day why we chose to have you on Christmas Eve. I don't know why exactly; I remember the day before you were born as one of frustration and fright, as having a c-section was the last thing on my mind when I learned I was pregnant. I know now that without it, we might have both been fine, but we might have both had incredible complications. I do remember that your Dad and I talked about it at length, and simply asked the doctor if she'd be available to deliver you the next day. It happened to be Christmas Eve; the decision wouldn't have been any different had it been any other Tuesday in any other month. We were tired and anxious to meet you.

This year, your transition from baby to girl was complete. You are completely night-trained, so no more Pull-Ups or Lil Swimmers diapers, ever, at all. Your vocabulary and pronunciation is approaching that of children twice your age; and your inflections and -isms are gleaned from waaaaay too much Nickelodeon and Disney. You love Spongebob SquarePants (and no I don't care that you watch it, you're too young to pickup on many of the adult references- you just think the worst thing SpongeBob says is "barnacles!") You now know how to read and write your name, and are picking up how to write various letters and numbers. Your fine motor skills are improving.

The biggest change (beyond what was probably a four inch growth spurt over the year, good Lord, Girl, are you tall), is that you have started to ask questions beyond how to do things or request things. You are questioning everything- and when we ask you questions, we enter a fantastic realm of answers, from the sublime to the ridiculous. You have definite favorites (short sleeves, dresses, Curious George) and definite dislikes (long sleeves, vegetables, being excluded from anything that grownups are doing). Some things remain ever-constant (you still beg to sleep between me and your daddy, you still love to wake up by me rubbing your back and singing softly, you still fuss when it's bedtime), but some things have changed. You are more independent and more stubborn than ever; you are less likely to ask for help (for better or worse). You give wonderful hugs and become, to borrow a phrase from Carrie, positively bereft when your daddy leaves the house in a rush and forgets to kiss you goodbye. You greet me with hugs and a cry of "MOMMY!" when I come through the door after school, and you know that's exactly what I need after a long day of class.

You are my greatest pride and hardest work.

I wonder how you will remember this, your fifth birthday. There will be no doubt that you will remember it for yourself, because four is still a bit hazy, but five is usually a fairly clear first-hand memory. I hope you will remember that your grandparents drove through an ice storm and were delayed 18 hours in Wisconsin to get here for you. I hope you remember that your aunties and other grandmother were here as well. Mostly, I hope you remember that we tried very hard to make this a good memory, a momentous occasion. When we ask you how old you are now, you say "Five!" and hold out a whole hand. You are a handful, indeed, my girl...but you are my handful, and though I still don't always know what I'm doing as a mom, I know that you'll do your best not to let me screw you up too badly.

The thing about you is that you not only believe you can conquer the world, but you believe you've already done so and are just waiting for your subjects to fall in line with the idea. You are a warrior princess, poised and ready to cry out in battle, charging forward astride your trusty pink steed. Next year you will conquer kindergarten, reading, and hopefully, swimming. It's been a great ride being your mom, and I can't wait to see where our adventure takes us next.

I love you, sweet Girl. Happy Fifth Birthday.

Love Always,

Mommy

Edited to add: Once again, I'm humbled and honored. Thanks to the panel.

Twirling

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Time for a summer memory. Maybe it will warm me up on this cold Minnesota night. Y'all, my house is drafty.

The summer before my grandmother died, the girl was about...2 1/2 or so. For whatever reason, she discovered an affinity for sundresses, which continues to this day. I do not know whose child she is in this respect; I lived in t-shirts and shorts when anything beyond a swimsuit was required and school was out.

My grandmother was not in good health- since my grandfather died, she had slowly gone downhill, allowing her dementia to take over, slipping away from all of us. She was depressed and horribly angry at him for leaving her; after sixty years of doing everything together, it was the one thing about which he did not consult her. I can just picture my grandparents going over their weekly schedule together: Jean, on Thursday, we're going to the grocery store, you have an appointment with Dr. Brock in the afternoon, and oh, yes, the Grim Reaper will be coming on Friday night, so make sure to wash your hair.

My father brought her out to our hometown to live near us, and since I was the mother of the great-grandchild, I was duty-bound to visit every Sunday and bring the girl with us. To escape the stifling heat of her apartment (despite the 90 degree temperature, she would not turn on the air, and walked around the house in a pair of long pants and a cardigan sweater), we often went outside to the lawn of her assisted living complex, where a few benches rested and the girl could run about and play.

I can't tell you what day it was, nor can I relay the exact sequence of events. However, I know the girl was wearing a red gingham sundress and white sandals. The dress and her blonde hair contrasted with the clear blue sky and bright green grass, and my grandmother and I watched as she kicked a ball up and down the green. I leaned over to her and watched her smile, a genuine smile of enjoyment at her great-granddaughter's adventures.

"You know," I said. "She's learning all sorts of new things."

"Oh, I'm sure," she said, her voice gravelly from age and cigarette smoke. "She's a very smart little girl."

Because my girl is so cute, and so little, she naturally attracted a crowd of old folks whenever we visited, and on this day, a few of the ladies stopped by to chat with us as the girl played.

"I was just mentioning to my grandmother that the girl is really learning quite a lot of things," I said to the ladies. "For instance- look at her." We turned our attention to the girl, who had temporarily forgotten the ball she was kicking, and had instead turned her attention to the sky above. Her head tilted back, arms swung out to the sides, and skirt flowing, she circled and circled, laughing and laughing.

"She's learned how to twirl."

A collective sigh went up amongst the gathered womenfolk- and for a moment, I could see their eyes light up and the wrinkles smooth. For just one moment, we were all girls again, twirling in our Christmas dresses on the altar at church, in our Easter dresses on the lawn before the egg hunt, at the family reunion in a sundress that was made to have the wind blow under it, caressing skinned knees and cooling warm legs. Every woman to whom I've told this story has gotten that look on their face- the look of girlhood past, reliving the joy of a simple 360 degree turn, repeated ad infinitum.

It is a singularly girlish delight...and one more reason I am glad to be a woman.

Holiday Goodies

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Two quick notes before I proceed to today's writing prompt:



Congratulations to JM. Nominated for a GRAMMY award for Best Male Pop Vocal - Belief. The thing I love about this is that, not only is it a great song, and one of my favorites...but this particular version comes from a little album called "The Village Sessions" which JM put out very quietly last year. BMPV seems to be John's category- he's won three of his five Grammys in this category, and this year he's up against people he's been up against (and won against) before. This version of Belief is quite different from the Continuum version. JM can go to the studio, record for a day, put out an EP, and get a Grammy nod...just a walk in the park for this guy. Tremendous honor, tremendous talent.

Second: My exam is in 32 hours. Send good vibes toward Minnesota, for me and the lovely friends I wrote about yesterday. We need them.

Now, on to the writing prompt!

Write your own version of those holiday newsletters that people send to friends and relatives at this time of year.

Dear Everyone,

The move went well and the house finally sold, so we are settled into life in Minnesota. I suppose grousing about the abundance of early snow is uncalled for, as I hear that our old hometown got it just as badly as we did here. C'est la vie.

I started law school this past August- a dream of mine since high school. I am here only because of the unending support of my husband and family. I've made tremendous new friends and am slowly wrapping my head around the fact that I really am in law school. (As if the 40 pound backpack weren't evidence enough).

The boy has found a job he loves at BigCorp, Inc. He's been contracting but a permanent offer is on its way, we're assured, by Christmas.

The girl is in her final year of preschool and we are looking into schools for her- so far we've narrowed it down to a local magnet school, St. Swithen's, and Expensive Progressive School. Of these, EPS is our favorite, but it's also the most costly, so we're working on a budget for that, and praying they'll take my own school situation into consideration when awarding financial aid.

I don't know how you write about this sort of thing in a Christmas letter...but my parents are getting divorced after 33 years of marriage. In a lot of ways, it's a good thing, but it's still a shock to the system, so I guess that's all I'll say about that for now.

Some of this year's highlights beyond the big move included attending my first John Mayer concert, completing three triathlons (including traveling to Austin for one!) and assisting my tri coach with a few clinics. He says I have the talent to become a coach, and I'm still contemplating that.

We hope this letter finds you all healthy and safe, and you have our best wishes for a wonderful holiday season and a great New Year!

Love and Blessings,

Kate and Family

I was going to try and bring the snark, but I just don't have it in me right now. Talk to me after finals are done...

S'now Place Like Minnesota

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Today's writing prompt: Tell us a story about snow.

Oh, snow.

It's December 3rd and we're experiencing our first Minnesota winter. Mind you, we're hearty Midwesterners- with the exception of the four (or so) years I spent in Texas at school, I have been into my winter coat by Veteran's Day and out of it no later than April 1 for my entire life. Safe to say I'm a four season type of gal. No stranger to snow. Lots of time outside playing in it as a kid, and shoveling it as a teenager/adult.

For our first Christmas as a married couple, my parents bought us what was (and is) quite possibly the best Christmas present one could ever give to a couple who has just bought their first home in the upper Midwest: a John Deere snowblower. Complete with an electric starter. (Trust me, it's an option you don't want to live without.)

About four weeks ago, the weather turned unseasonably cold for late fall in the Midwest. I figured out 40 degrees here ain't what 40 degrees was back in the hometown. See, we had this tiny thing called proximity to Lake Michigan, which provided not only cool breeze in the summer, but additional humidity in the winter. Sounds hokey, but winter humidity is what made winter bearable there. Here? Not so much. Closest thing we have to a major body of water is the Mississippi River, and well, an inland sea it ain't. End result: it's dry as the freakin' desert here. My hands are begging for Udder Cream and my face, which was scaly and dry back home, is about ready to crack from the dry winter wind. It used to take effort for me to get windburnt...now I must merely step outside and face windward for a few moments.

I am assured that four inches on the ground the first week in December is a freak occurrence in these here parts, and normally we're above freezing til at least the week before Christmas. Something like home, but not quite. It's still colder here. The Vikings up here are predicting a January thaw, followed by another Big One in late January or around Valentine's Day. That's fine by me- load me up on the sidewalk salt and keep the cocoa on simmer. I can handle winter.

I really do love snow- it's not Christmas without it, hell, it ain't winter without it. Sledding, snow angels, snowball fights, skiing. I love winter nights when the moon is high and full, and the snow is white and pristine. The sky is clear and the snow reflects the moonlight so that it's nearly bright as day. There is a certain magic that comes with winter.

Snow also reminds me of my daughter's birthday- like, the day I gave birth to her, not just the yearly anniversary thereof. She was born Christmas Eve (and perhaps I'll write her birth story for that day's entry). One of the most vivid memories I have of that day is waking up at 5AM to go to the hospital, and watching the snowflakes dance in the headlights of the boy's car as we drove. The night was clear and the moon was high, and I took comfort in looking up through the sunroof and basking in her precious light. I savored the time in the car, feeling the girl kick from the inside for the last few times. Not three hours later, we saw her face for the first time in person.

When the snow falls, I remember becoming a mother.

Break Out The Winter Clothes

Fall has arrived in Minnesota!

I stepped outside this morning to take the girl to school, and instantly felt the chill of late fall. I immediately turned us around, went back into the house and bundled the girl up in a scarf, hat and mittens, and zipped-in the zip-out liner in her coat. She looked at her getup (pink jacket, pink and purple accessories with red hearts) and said the following:

"Mommy! I'm very pink today!"

"Yes, you sure are. But very cute."

Maintaining radio silence for the near future...the next six weeks of school should be hectic and insane, at best.

In the ears: Continuum

On the laptop: Closed Memo for LRW I. Rough draft due tomorrow.

House: Disastrous.

On the TV: nothing for the next few weeks.

I Can't Seem To Find The Quiet Inside My Mind

Up late.

I get this way every now and again...stay up late with too many thoughts in my head. Tonight the girl (our daughter) climbed in bed between us and was soon snoozing peacefully. I couldn't help but stay awake...watching her sleep...memorizing the roundness of her face and seeing reflections of her future. She's still such a little girl-not even five. Yet, her arms and legs are long and lean, and she's growing up too quickly. I can see the woman she is to become.

I often call her "sweet girl" - I have since she was a small baby. I vividly remember the earliest days...home from the hospital with a fresh c-section scar and leaky boobs, trying desperately to figure her out- what her different cries meant...how to breastfeed without hurting myself by positioning her just so that she wasn't resting on my incision, learning her personality. Weeping openly with the baby blues, walking her up and down the nursery floor as her cries reverberated off the ceiling and walls, begging her to please stop crying, baby, I'm trying so hard...please tell me what's wrong.

When I'm up this late, my demons often play mind-games with me. I start thinking about the most awful things...what would happen if she had some horrific terminal childhood illness? What would happen if my husband died in a car wreck on the way home from work, or had a heart attack in his sleep? How would my life be different?

Perhaps the violent change in life that death brings upon us is the basis for grief. Every time one of these thoughts pops up in my head, I'm thrown into pictures of the aftermath...I don't know if I would be paralyzed, or if I would throw myself headlong into school or work or whatever I could.

Or would I say a simple prayer of forgiveness, let out a primal scream, and be done with the outward grief? And what would people say about that? What if my husband died? How long does a 30 year old woman wear her widow's weeds? God help me, I think about how long I would have to wait to try to see other men, and what do I then call my mother in law??...but the thought of the comparison, the game I never had to play (thank you, Lord, for sending me my husband early in life, I saved a ton of money on booze and cover charges), or even worse- going to bed with another man, or marrying another man, or how long the comparison would last...would I judge on the merits or simply attempt to replace?

Then I roll over and his hand is on my arm, and I realize that there's nothing to worry about right now- he's still here and safe, and we're alright at least 'til tomorrow. Still doesn't help my sleep, at least tonight.

Death wrecks people - my mother has never gotten over my grandmother's death, and it's been 15 years.

An old friend from grammar school recently lost her husband to leukemia- we are roughly the same age and they were married but a few short years. No kids. He was a doctor. It seems like heartache befalls the best people in the world.

Horrible thoughts that make me cry into my pillow at night for no good reason. I can never tell when this is going to happen, and I don't know that it ever makes sense.