She says the story I like to tell myself is that I’m ridiculously happy and I play with my kids all the time, “But the informative story is that you spend most of your time working really hard, and you deal with so much heartbreak and sadness…”

I have no idea how a good mother should respond when her eight year old says something like that. Maybe a good mother would never have to, because her girl should only ever see a strong, happy woman. Still, I don’t think my reality is as rough as she perceives it, and if it is, I don’t know that I want to believe it. But I don’t want to be dishonest, either, with her or with myself.

Maybe the trick is to find magic even in the difficult facts, and to remember that the best stories are always tough in the middle.

Q:”I’m a meat you can’t eat. I don’t contain poison but if you eat me you will die. What am I?”(Click more to find out.)

A:”Yourself.”

Actually, I lied. Sometimes I photograph them first. :-T What drives us to allow other people to experience the gross-out with us?

Glad she’s learning early

These snowmen crafts are very easy to make, by the way. Turn a kid-sized white crew sock inside out & fill the foot area with rice. Section off a head using a strong rubber band, and use another rubber band to close the tube just above the ankle area. You can turn the tube part inside out for a beanie, tie a fabric-scrap scarf around the neck, and sew on buttons for facial features. Or if you’re lazy like us, you can just glue on googley-eyes and a pom-pom nose.

Hindsight being 20-20, I suppose we should have sewn ours on. The kids walked through Grandma’s door tonight just in time to find their beloved snow-toys in the grips of my three-year-old nephew, Malachi. Mary cried out, and Malachi instantly dropped them and buried his face in the floor while she tearfully surveyed the damage. Snowy was fine, but his mom was in bad shape. Worst of all, her eyes were gone all together.

“Oh sweetie. That’s rough. He didn’t mean to hurt her, though, and I’ll bet you can just glue the eyes back on again.”

“Well” she sobbed, “It’s not like the eyes fell directly into a little box and then wrote themselves a little letter on top that said, ‘Here we are; you may glue us back on now.’”

Could she have simply said, “The eyes are lost!”? Sure, but then she wouldn’t be Mary, so the adults in the room just stifled their laughs.

“I’ll bet Malachi would be happy to help you find the eyes. He feels really bad, you know, and I bet he’d feel better if you let him help you fix things.” At this, Malachi glanced up hopefully, then stood.

“Actually,” she explained while wiping away her tears, “I’ve already managed to find one of them, so we just need to find the other.” (Yes, my eight year old talks like this, and yes, she still uses the “just-add-Y” naming scheme for all of her favorite toys.)

“That’s great!” I took the eye and held it out to my nephew, “Malachi, this is one of the snowmom’s eyes, but she needs two. Could you help us find the other one so she can see again?”

His face lit up, “Well, Mike can see with one big eye!”

Good answer! “That’s true… but see, these eyes are very small, so she’ll need both.”

He had a response I couldn’t quite decipher at the moment, something about someone else only needing one small eye because they were very little. I’m thinking now he must have been talking about Plankton & it just didn’t register with me. Anyway, Malachi was still pretty excited about his one-eyed snowman idea when I went to start our laundry, and by the time I’d closed the washer they were all giggling. Another crisis averted? Here’s hoping. And in the meantime, perhaps tomorrow we’ll invite Malachi over to make his snowclops.

Mary's self pep-talk

I should add that at one point a few days ago she was asking, “What is the word that means ‘explodes easily’?” Apparently she needed a replacement for the word “fragile.”

“Thank you for that.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“I can tell.”

I’m so glad to have my kids home again. First I got hugs… much needed after a few days without! (Do I feel that way every time they’re gone, you ask? To put it simply, yes.)

And now I’m just enjoying their cuteness. Mary asked, “Would you like a mini cell phone?” She then produced a tiny paperclip model of my old flip phone. “Clip this behind your ear.  I’m wearing one too, so if you want to chat, just give me a ring.”

Good to know I can now call her anytime. But I am so glad to have them here with me.

P.S. … This is my first post from word press for droid. Woohoo!