The Lonliness of the Long Distance Mama

This past weekend's weird mash-up: My third Mother's Day + my first-ever trip away from the girls. By away, I mean away, 400+ miles from the Lab at a 3-day conference for work.

I wasn't sure what to expect. In the past 15 months, I haven't spent more than a couple of hours alone in the house, and aside from my trips to the office for work, I'm almost always accompanied by two small, sticky (yet loveable) barnacles.

So yes, here I am, far from home and entirely free of my typical daily mommly duties.

I celebrated Monday morning -- and my first day of freedom -- by waking up at 5:45, distinctly aware of the fact that there was absolutely, positively no child crying. My first opportunity to really sleep, guilt-free in more than a year. And, infuriatingly, I couldn't for the life of me get back to sleep.

And, that's sort of how my time away has been. A little anxious, a little homesick, and a lot infuriating, mostly due to my own inability to let go, move on, and be away already. Today, I slept in until 6:30 (a definite improvement, but still), limited myself to five calls home, and fixated on the souvenirs I could potentially bring home tomorrow. Not exactly the globe-trotting career woman I strive to be.

But hey. Baby steps, right? You can shove this mom out of the nest, but it's a tricky thing to fly. So there is this: just 24 hours until I'm back home, among the wee ones, early wake-up calls, and duplos, in that surprisingly comforting daily grind.

Lab Partner Report: Home, is where I want to be

Sometimes I find myself wondering and envisioning what kind of future I would love for the girls to have. This is something I know every parent does. I try to never bring these thoughts into the open with the girls. I've read enough stories featuring fathers and mothers pushing some kind of future ("BUT, what of MEDICAL school?" the stern father shouts) to know to lay off being prescriptive.

However, I DO know the features of the life I'd like them to have: creative, happy, low-key, unpretentious, funny, filled with loved ones and friends and family -- a life not fixated on appearance, or money, or material goods, but one with laughter, common sense, self-effacement and fun.

Anyway, today is David Byrne's 60th birthday. I love the Talking Heads.  I'm sure some people would call them pretentious, but, to me, they always seemed to be having a good time, not caring what people thought.

Estellese 101

Now that Estelle has officially become a fully conversational sentence-speaking kid, I feel I can proclaim that talking with one's kid really is the best. I love hearing her use her words correctly ("Miss Clavel was feeling frustrated with the girls for having a pillow fight.") I love hearing her observations ("I think that at the end of the book, Goldilocks is thinking 'I'm outta there!'"), and I love hearing her negotiate her world ("Lulu, I'm sorry I shoved you in the face.")

But, among all of the words that Estelle uses, my absolute favorite are her neologisms, which I like to think of as Estellese. Should I admit that? As a word-maker-upper myself, I really admire some of the poetic phrasing of her unique vocab.

Not surprisingly, they tend to crop up at make-believe times. When playing tea party, you might be served a cup of pepper stone tea with a brixle bar to nibble on. On one occasion, I was treated to a cup of buttercream frost, which sounds just enchanting, don't you think? The other day, Estelle announced that she was wearing wristlings, which turns out to be links from a baby's plastic chain fashioned into bracelets. And, all of Estelle's adventures in couch cushion caves include collecting flower milk, a beverage that is both sweet and wonderful. Lulu happens to loves it.

Yesterday night at dinner, we were talking about band names with the girls. It occurred to me that Estelle would be a fantastic band-namer. After all, wouldn't you just love to hear a girlband named Flower Milk? Buttercream Frost? The Wristlings? Who knows what my duo's musical abilities might be, but a mom's gotta dream, right?

 The Go-Gos, The Shaggs, Bananarama. Not exactly Estellese, but girl bands with names that she could surely get behind.

On Loving Kids Poems Now That I Know 'Em

Have I mentioned to you readers that Lab Partner and I met in a college poetry class? Well, that's not exactly true: two years before our poetry class together, we first became aware of each other's shadows. And one year before we eyed one another in a design class. But it was in the poetry class that we really truly met.

Fourteen years later, I still love a good poem. But, aside from some Mother Goose, no poetry has entered our kiddo book library. That is, until last weekend, when I stumbled on Tiny Tim, a collection of poems for children. Illustrated by the awesome Helen Oxenbury, Tiny Tim's poems are silly, weird and a little dark, just as poems should be.

I'm so sad to discover that Tiny Tim is both British and out of print because I'd love to send copies to all the kids I know. So instead, I'm leaving you with three of my favorites, alas, without their sunny illustrations. (Since they don't have titles, you'll just have to make do with mine.)

Hungry Bear (Anon.)

Algy met a bear,
A bear met Algy.

The bear was bulgy,
The bulge was Algy.

Mice are Nice by Rose Fyleman

I think that mice
Are rather nice.

Their tails are long.
Their faces small.
They haven't any chins at all.
Their ears are pink.
Their teeth are white.
They run about
the house at night.
They nibble things
they shouldn't touch
and no one seems
to like them much.

But I think mice
are rather nice.

Thank God I Only Have Two (Anon.)

Billy is blowing his trumpet;
Bertie is banging a tin;
Betty is crying for Mummy 
And Bob has pricked Ben with a pin.
Baby is crying out loudly;
He's out in the lawn in his pram.
I am the only one silent
and I've eaten all of the jam.

Sunday Snap

Inaugural nap on the big girl bed.