Looking for the Truth

Harp and I went out to buy shoes yesterday; Rose was at preschool, so we were alone, enjoying each other's company on a lovely Tuesday afternoon in Oakland. We talked about poverty (seriously), her current teacher's "boring-ness" and when American Idol will return to TV. Then, my little whippersnapper asked me, out of the blue, "Mom, are you the tooth fairy?"

Choking back my surprise, trying not to look in the rear view mirror, I did what any normal parent would do - avoided answering the question.

"What makes you ask that, hon?"

"Well, because, you know how I'm getting taller.

"Yeah."

"Well, I was looking on your top bookshelf, because I know you keep lip gloss up there sometimes, and I got the lip gloss."

"Yeah."

"Well, I know I should ask you about lip gloss next time."

"Yeah."

"Well, anyway, there was this little tooth - my tooth - behind the lip gloss."

"Yeah."

"So, I thought maybe you were the tooth fairy and that the tooth fairy really isn't real."

So.........a cross road of sorts. Decision time. Is this the end of fairies, of Santa Claus, of everything magical in childhood? Right here, right now - is she really too old for fairies at almost seven? And how did she make the connection between the tooth and her parents' many years of subterfuge and deception? Thoughts whizzed through my brain as I contemplated the conversation - the many ways to handle it.

In the end, I found I just couldn't lie to her face; her question was so earnest, so I told her the truth. I don't know why making up stories, passing along myth and tradition seems so easy when they're young, unaware and innocent, but she's not anymore. And I couldn't answer her question as if she was still a part of a world that's simple, easy and constructed, albeit with love, by her parents. She's out there now and oddly, the loss of this little bit of innocence didn't make me sad or rueful.....even for a moment. We still have Santa Claus, I know, but the writing's on the wall, she's writing it now and I find that I don't mind so much - it's a brilliant story.

Big Thoughts, Little People Vol. 1

Harp, Rose and I were getting ready for some summer park action this morning when Harp hit me with this:

Harp: Mom, you know why I'm doing everything you ask me to do the first time you ask?

Mom: I can't imagine why, dear heart. I did notice the unusual compliance, but didn't want to dissuade you from your current unexplained and unusual course. (Slightly enhanced language to adjust for pre-coffee verbal incoherence)

Harp: Well, I just didn't want to stress you out. You're not stressed are you?

Mom: No - not feeling particularly stressed right now.

Harp: Do you know why you're not stressed?

Mom: No. I guess I've had enough sleep.

Harp: Yeah, maybe, but it's also because I snuck into your room last night and poured "no-stress potion" into your mouth.

Mom: Ah, really?

Harp: Yeah, it's only for kids to give parents, so parents won't get stressed out and yell at their kids.

Mom: Dude, great concept - love the idea.

Harp: But it's a secret. I probably shouldn't have told you that. Tonight I'll give you the "no remembering potion," so you'll forget this conversation.

Honest to god.....

A Break

So, I'll be taking a blog-break over the next few months because I'll be training for a triathlon. I don't know why. I should probably invent a more convincing response than, "just thought it was time to do it before I got too old," or "sounded like a good idea at the time." The reality is that I don't have a good answer. But the fact that my blog has been languishing for the past two months is a clear testament to how I've been spending my time. Alas, I have not been writing.

With the kids and Chris and the triathlon, I have time for little else. Phone calls are not being returned, the dust bunnies are forming an army and come out when guests are over, and most of the time my children look at me sideways with a mixture of disbelief and resentment. "Again? She's leaving us again?" They are not happy with me. Rose says, "You'd choose to go running/swimming/biking instead of reading me a story? You are the sorriest excuse for a caregiver - a disgrace to the name of mother." At least this is she would say if she weren't yelling, "Don't leave me Mama, I want you," while I try to shake her off my leg like a humping puppy.

This whole experience has me thinking about balance. Not that I'm not always thinking about balance; with two young children finding that elusive equilibrium between life and sanity feels like an endless quest. Still, you never want to drive your kids to the point where they're holding onto your leg; it just feels awful for everyone. But sometimes, you just gotta go, gotta do something that runs counter to your kid's immediate needs/desires/drama. Figuring out what you have to do and what you want to do is the real ticket. But here's the thing, I don't have to do this - I just want to. And some days, I feel like a schmuck. I might be able to squash a pumpkin with my quads, but I'm routinely missing story time. They are not happy with me.

I have a friend who asked me how I possibly had time to train for a triathlon with the kids. I didn't or couldn't answer her, because I know how she feels about family. For her, family time is number one, the kids are always number one and there are no exceptions. She stays at home so she gets big kid doses just like I do. But we are so different - I need more breaks, I am more easily overwhelmed by the constant demands of motherhood and I like going on dates with my guy.....alone.....a lot.

Shouldn't always surprise me that so many people do parenting so differently but it still does. And I guess when Rosie's hanging on my leg, I can't help but ponder life balance - to wonder if I am:

A. Providing a good model of exercise and working toward a goal
B. Exhibiting narcissism which will come up in therapy in the post-college years
C. Being essentially a good mother, although oddly absent of late, but who will certainly return to her usual duties come Fall.

Time will tell of course, but I hope that "triathlon" won't be a dirty word in our house, that the kids will forgive me for time lost and that we can pick up where we left off in September. Because, as much as I think about balance and how much time I've been spending away from the kids, doing something on my own has been inspiring, empowering and well, damn fun. So onward to more pumpkin squashing........ feeling slightly guilty still and looking forward to Fall. Oh, and thanks to Chris....for picking up all the story times.

I Have a Friend Who........

The other night two things happened. Harper got a secret diary with a lock and wrote some personal things inside and she overheard Chris and I talking about our exes, not uncommon - old memories are ever present, but confusing as all hell to Harper, who has difficulty accepting that her parents are people, much less that they had lives before they were parents.

And then without missing a beat, Harper asks me if I had a boyfriend when I was her age. It was a seamless question, flowing naturally from conversation and understandable given our talk about previous loves. I said "Sure, one Nicky Kritikos, in second grade. Wanna see him on Facebook?"

And just like that, she got me talking about me and my second grade boyfriend. We looked at pictures; she seemed interested, intrigued, joining me jubilantly as we traipsed down memory lane, answering her innocent questions with funny reflections.

And then she asked, "Did you have a crush on him before he was your boyfriend?"

"I suppose so. I really can't remember." Then I blathered on about some other aspect of my seven-year-old romance, confident that she wouldn't have asked unless she was really interested.

And then she asked, "Did you talk to your mom about him?" Bat sense tingling, I finally emerged from my nostalgic revelry and looked at my daughter's face. Her head was slightly tilted, her mouth turned up at the corners and her eyes a little off in some way - not quite disingenuous, but not quite straight up. A quick breath in and I realized that I had just been taken in by my six-year-old. A crush. We've been talking about her the whole time. And she had me talking about myself for fully five minutes to see...... to see, I don't know what. Maybe, if she could trust me with it. To see if I had some meaningful experience that might help her with her current romantic dilemma.

I wasn't surprised at all by the news of a crush; it's that she had the presence of mind to approach the topic sideways - an almost, "I have a friend with a problem" approach. The girl is sophisticated and I obviously need to be more on my toes. I couldn't drag the name of her crush out of her and I stopped trying after a few names and a few laughs. I told her I'd let it go, that I would never look in her diary and she could always talk to me if she changed her mind. She's a tricky one, and one to watch, but I like the way she works.