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402 days. 402 (plus or minus… mostly minus) posts.

Tag: parents

Day 120: It’s Not Fun!

As promised, below are more of my youngest sister’s youthful musings from her recently discovered journal.

(Parents, even though your kids may hate journaling with a passion when they’re young, they’ll be so glad you made them do it when they’re in their twenties and thirties. The pain will be worth the later laughter. Make your kids write.)

From the mind of a nine-year-old:

1/15/97  Last week and a day was my birthday but my party was only 4 days ago. I think I got my last gift was yesterday, It was the cutest stuffed animal cat. But I wish the gifts would still keep on coming, not that I am greddy or anithing it’s just they make my room briter because my room is where the sun never shines so I at least want my room to be fun so I like my room at all.

2/13/97  It’s not fun!

3/19/97  Here I am sitting here just wating around for choir to start. I wish my mom didn’t teach conformatoin because if she didn’t teach conformatoin I wouldn’t be siting here wating at all. There go’s a bunch of preschoolers about to go outside, lucky them. But now that I think of it I don’t really want to go outside. From now on this isn’t my jornal anymore it’s my place where I keep my secrits, in other words my diary!

4/23/97  Yesterday my mom said that we could go bike riding! But since me and my sisters were fighting we couldn’t go. So everyone started blaming me for it (they say I’m a tattletale.) I told my mom what they said and she said in a loud angry voice, “That’s exatly why I didn’t let you go on the bike ride, I don’t want you to be mean.” I said, “I’m trying not to be mean,” then I started to cry. My mom said “I know you are, I only said that because I love you.” Now I feel much better.

Journal drawing

More of my sister’s birthday thoughts + a drawing of a human/rabbit with a bun. 

Day 119: For Little V

As I alluded to on Sunday, two of my dear friends welcomed a little peanut (human) into the world this week. She’s six days old today and I get to meet her this afternoon (!). Since she probably won’t understand anything I tell her today, I’m blogging her a list for future reference.

Dear V,

Here are some things you should know:

1. Lots of people love you.

2. Your parents are super cool. There might be a time between ages 10 and 20 when you don’t think so, but you’ll come back around.

3. Your super cool parents might embarrass you sometimes. You can get back at them by telling your dad you’re a Centrist (but only say it if you don’t really mean it; he loves that).

4. You were born into a world with a lot of problems, but you’re surrounded by incredible role models. There are problem-identifiers, solution-makers, strategic thinkers, beauty-seekers, doers, fixers, connectors and all-around kindhearted people. Your world will be full of opportunities, no matter what path you choose.

5. It’s okay to fail, whether you’re building a Lego castle or a business. Everybody fails. Just pick up the pieces and try something else.

6. Your mom will know if you’re smoking pot in the bathroom or hiding cigarettes in the car. She just will.

7. You and I are going to make some dances together. I’ve already come up with a few ideas, but I welcome yours as well.



PiratesYour cool/embarrassing mom and me back in 2006 when we were pirates. 

Day 9: We Are(n’t) Young

A friend and I went to a concert last night night (on a weekday night… wild!). The band was fantastic, the audience was happy and fun, and the bartender was equal parts grouchy and endearing.

Blog-as-diary in three… two…

We were the oldest people there.

But we blended in well. Skinny jeans, messy buns, strategically placed “Oh, this old thing?” scarves.  And it didn’t bother me that we were respectively old; it just occurred to me.

I don’t actually feel any different than I did ten years ago. Sure, a few things have changed. Now, I spend an extra minute poking and prodding at my messy bun until most of my grey hair is covered. And if I felt stressed out in 2002, I’d snowball myself into tears. In 2012, I just get sort of crabby and the left side of my face goes numb. A sign of maturity, I believe.

If I were my mother, I would currently be the proud parent of a four-year-old and a two-year old, and have another bundle of joy on the way. I’d live in a house with a yard and would carpool to preschool with my favorite next-door neighbor.

As not-my-mother, I have a fish and three complicated plants that miraculously come back to life every few weeks. I live in an apartment, grow herbs in the parking lot (also miraculous) and really only talk to my neighbors when my underwear escapes from my laundry pile and sits in the hallway for a couple of days (“Whose is that?! So weird.).

The not-doing-what-your-parents-did mentality is not new. I’m just surprised at how quickly and accidentally it manifested itself.