Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Grown Up

I am a grown up. I know that. The age I will be next week confirms it. But I don't feel like it. I feel like a kid, a stupid kid some days.

But I act like a grown up most of the time. I am responsible. I take care of small people. I feed them and clothe them. I clean up after them. I get things done.

It's rare that my actions mirror the way I feel about myself. I don't
let go. I'm not silly and stupid. I'm not always fun. Well I am with the kids but not with myself.

It's sad really because I miss silly and stupid. I miss fun. I miss being a kid.

This past weekend I had the chance to be silly and stupid and fun. I spent the weekend with some girlfriends from law school. There were no small people in sight (or at least none that we had to take care of). It was just us reliving the glory days of no responsibilities.

I acted like a kid all weekend long. I laughed. I sang. I danced. I told dirty jokes. I played. I remembered that carefree joy I once possessed.

I want to be that girl, that kid, all the time. I don't want the weight of responsibilities, of what I should do, to wear me down. I don't want to be cranky because "do I really have to repeat myself again? Just listen to me the first or second time and we won't have this problem. No! Put that down. Don't touch that. Don't hit your brother. Don't bite your sister. Just stop it right now!"

There has to be a way to do both, to be fun and happy and to be responsible. Doesn't there?

Friday, September 16, 2011

Just Write

Just write. Cursor blinking. Fingers typing. Words filling the page. Just write. It's that simple.

I like to complicate things. I like to obsess about, well about anything really. If it is simple, I make it difficult. If it is difficult, I make it impossible.

My brain flips through an imaginary thesaurus. Not this word, it's not right. It has to be perfect. I need to find that one word which will convey the exact emotion, the exact meaning. I need you to understand what I am trying to say in the way I am trying to say it.

It used to be fun. It used to be a joy to let my fingers fly at the speed of my imagination. It used to be everything I wanted. But I got in the way. My brain said no, it's not good enough.

My heart still tells stories. My imagination still runs through fields of daisies. My fingers yearn to fly. They scream at my brain, "shut up, you big meanie. Let us out to play. It will be good. It will be enough. It will be real."

So brain I'm putting you on notice.

Just write. Cursor blinking. Fingers typing. Words filling the page. Just write. It's that simple.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Two Boys

I saw her in the checkout line at Target. Well, I saw him first. Brown skin. Curly hair. Eyes, oh those eyes. The eyes are the give away. The eyes tell me he is Habesha.

She looks at my cart. She sees what I saw. We make eye contact and smile.

"Is he?"

"Yes. Is he?"


The connection is instant. She understands. She knows things about me that no one else can know. The experiences are the same. We are sisters, family.

The boys laugh and smile at eachother. Brothers, friends. Then just as quickly they ignore the other. They do not know. They are too young to understand.

All Lion knows is someone is competing for my attention. He cuts up, trying to draw attention to himself. "Wion, twoooooo!", holding up two fingers. Smiles. Laughter. Dancing in the cart. "Wion, twooooo!"

Two fingers held up in the other cart, "Doooo, dooo!" The same but different.

Two boys. Brown skin. Curly hair. Eyes, oh those eyes. Brothers, friends.

Two mothers. Fair. Hearts open. Understanding. Sisters, family.

Just Write
This post is part of Just Write capturing the ordinary and extraordinary moments of life.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Memory Keeping

The kids changing everyday. It's hard to keep track sometimes.

Lion's language has just exploded. He is always telling stories and singing songs. Bunny is a kindergartener now. She is in school full days. She belongs to another world now, a world I'm not always included in.

I try to mark the important things. I try to write down funny stories, to share drawings and pictures. Facebook and Twitter help but they don't always do justice to the moment. I think to much about what I write (or don't write) here. I put too much pressure on being brilliant, so I don't chronicle the memory.

But I don't want it to get lost. I need to say this happened and it meant something to me:

My brother and his wonderful girlfriend were married (my dad performed the ceremony).

We had fun on and near the water.

We spent time with friends.

We hung out with daddy.

And Bunny started kindergarten (she is such a big girl now).