Sunday, October 14, 2007

From Now On This Blog Will Simply Be Dictated by Nutmeg

Last night, we took Nutmeg and Pebbles to a party with us. It was a grown-up party, but we were unable to get a sitter and really wanted to wish our friend happy birthday. So we endeavored to get ourselves dressed for an evening out, get them dressed, and get them stuffed into the car, all during the time they would normally be eating dinner.

It was not going well. Nutmeg has hidden almost all her socks somewhere and doesn't remember where. Pebbles, who has not been napping well since our fun Wisconsin trip blendered up her schedule, wanted to nurse non-stop to soothe the tired buzzing in her head (I know the feeling all too well, Pebbles).

As we strapped two crabby kids into the car and headed off to the city, I told Epu, this is so not worth it.

But suddenly, Nutmeg began singing one of her bizarre self-written songs, this one called "Please marry a goat." Pebbles was delighted and sang along.

But here was the crowning moment of the drive, nay, the whole day: Nutmeg said to me, "Mommy? Why I write so many songs? It's because I'm a writer too."

She was hugging herself, a big grin on her face. Almost as big as the grin on mine. I mean, come on: Not only had Nutmeg told me she wanted to be just like me, but she understands what Mommy is. Mommy is a writer.

Taking up a little freelance writing lately has been a big boost for me, a reminder that Mama's still got it. She probably heard me refer to myself as a writer only just recently.

I want to make sure that she keeps hearing that, and keeps believing it.

When do you stop achieving things to make your parents, and start achieving them to make your children proud? I'm sure there should be something in there about doing things to please yourself. And it's there, honest. But don't you want your little ones to look at what you do, and say, I want to do that too?

Isn't that why have them, to create our own little cheering section and Mini Mes?

Come on, admit it. Just a little, right?

And here's another Nutmeg tale. Today my mother-in-law told me that the Nut had some questions about death last time she visited. She wanted to know about coffins, and such. Then she had a stroke of inspiration:

"Grandma, when you and Grandpa die, maybe you can be buried in the same coffin!"

And a little later: "And maybe Mommy and Daddy and me can be buried in the same coffin!"

"What about Pebbles?" Grandma asked.

"Oh, she can have her own coffin."

1 comment:

Bert said...

Aw. That is so sweet. You go, MommyWriter.