“If you cannot think of anything appropriate to say you will please restrict your remarks to the weather.” Mrs. Dashwood, Sense and Sensibility

Mrs. Dashwood’s advice to her youngest daughter holds much merit. I’ve gotten better at small talk over the years, but I still look with admiration to those who can carry on a conversation comfortably with strangers and acclimate into new surroundings with ease. For folks like me, the weather is a trusty conversation starter, and if you live in the Mitten state like I do, the weather  provides plenty to discuss.

“Just because you can’t see something, doesn’t mean it isn’t there.” -Jackie Harrison, Stepmom

Two nights ago, I had the honor of serving as my niece’s Confirmation sponsor. As we sat in church listening to the archbishop discuss the significance of the Holy Spirit, I leaned over to my niece and whispered, “Did you know that your mom’s Confirmation sponsor was Grandma Roe?” My grandmother (my niece’s great grandmother) would have been 95 years old that night. She was the very best example I could ever have of living selflessly and loving unconditionally. She would have very much enjoyed seeing her great granddaughter experience this sacramental rite of passage. But I know that just because she wasn’t sitting in her usual pew to the right of the altar that she wasn’t right there with us.

“I can’t have a baby because I have a 12:30 lunch meeting.” Diane Keaton, Baby Boom

For all you working moms out there, this one’s for you. My daughter’s music/story time class falls on Fridays at 11 a.m. right about the time I get ready to join a standing client call from the office. So I don’t get to take her. But she still gets to go (thanks mom)! It’s not an ideal setup, but it works for now as I figure out how to make this juggling act called working parenthood fly.

“I realize as a woman how lucky I am. I was there when that wonderful creature drifted into my life... M’lynn, Steel Magnolias

Amen. Despite the Magnesium Sulfate (damn you), giving birth to Baby Blue was the most awesome experience of my life, and I’d take the pain, discomfort, 1.5 hours of pushing and post-baby body changes (we’ll leave it at that) any day of the week to have had the experience we women are so fortunate to have in child birth. There really is nothing to compare it to.

“Go, and embrace your liberty. And see what wonderful things come of it” Marmee, Little Women

As college graduation neared, my mom made numerous references to my moving away. This time farther than 45 minutes from home. This time all the way to another state. This time to a big city. I wasn’t sure I wanted to follow in my sisters’ footsteps and live in Chicago. But my mom didn’t wait for me to talk myself into staying. She knew better than I did that I needed to experience life and to live on my own, supporting myself  in a city where the job and cultural offerings abounded. And so I did, albeit uncertainly. And oh what wonderful things did come of it!

“You have to do the best with what God gave you.” Mrs. Gump, Forrest Gump

As my mom often says, there’s always going to be someone smarter, faster, more clever, better looking, more outgoing, etc. We’ve all got one life to live, so we must make the best of it. Now the hard part: remembering to put this into practice each day.

“The only thing I have ever said to you, ever, is that I want you to be happy.” M’lynn, Steel Magnolias

Steel Magnolias is rich with great one liners. It was tough to narrow it down to just two for this post. (I’m seriously considering writing a post solely focused on the wisdom imparted in the lines of this  tearjerker.) But this particular line–delivered by M’lynn to her daughter Shelby in reaction to the news that her daughter is expecting a child despite doctor’s warnings–is the hope of every mom, or should be anyway. My daughter has two dimples that appear only when she smiles. I see those dimples throughout the day every day, and it’s my prayer that I continue to see them with as much, if not more, frequency as she grows into adulthood.

“From your head to your toes, you’re not much, goodness knows. But you’re so precious to me, cute as can be, baby of mine.” Mrs. Jumbo, Dumbo

I don’t really have any wise words to share related to this line. I just wanted an excuse to post a cute picture of Baby Blue.

Cheers!

On more than one occasion, when contemplating what I’d do if I could do anything, I’ve expressed my desire to him to own and run a small tea room in the city next to the one in which we live. The Franklin Village Tea Room is like a page out of a story book. To me, this little eatery seems like it belongs in some New England town, but lucky for me, it’s a mere five minute drive from my home. This establishment, which I can best describe as completely charming, often hosts young girls celebrating their Sweet 16, red hat clubs meeting for a cup of afternoon tea, girlfriends catching up on the goings-on in each others’ lives, and families celebrating the arrival of a new little miracle with a baby shower.

Antique tea sets and feathery flowing hats decorate this small room where the menu is generally always the same, and the atmosphere is one of whimsy. At Christmas, white lights line the windows, and though I’ve never been there during the Christmas season, I imagine it smells like cinnamon and gingerbread. (It surely would if I ever worked there!)

Though I’ve only patronized this establishment one time, I’ve driven past it at least a hundred. I believe that I may have liked it so much, in part, because three generations of my family enjoyed blackberry tea and finger sandwiches there on a sunny Wednesday afternoon last summer and created a memory captured in the photo below.

I don’t know if I’ll ever have a hand in running the Franklin Village Tea Room or something like it, but I’m grateful someone does because it means I get to continue driving by this little place. And that makes me happy.

The reason I can’t own the P&P DVD is that since I had a baby, I have made a conscious effort to avoid activities that suck away at my very limited free time for little fruitful benefit. Watching television has been the primary victim. I rarely ever watch it anymore (except for Mad Men—Best. Show. Ever.) Renting and going to movies have also become uncommon practices. And much like any obsessed person, I can’t pull myself away from the high that Pride & Prejudice affords me, so it can’t be in my house.

So why am I writing this on a blog about parenting? Well, I’m writing this post as I fly 2,909 miles from Detroit to San Francisco for a business trip. As I have written about before, I am not a big fan of business travel these days. But duty calls, so here I am aboard a Delta 747 kinda bumming that I can’t rock my little girl to sleep and letting all sorts of horribly tragic scenarios play out in my head about me not making it back. Sick—I know.

Anticipating this very moment, I allowed myself to rent a movie for play on my portable DVD player. You guessed it—P&P. And I suddenly feel a little less anxious. Thank you once again Ms. Austen!

I love the scampering of her hands and knees on the hardwood floors tipping me off that she’s on the move and looking for her mama. I love that a game of peekaboo results in rip roaring laughter. I love that I can kiss her hundreds of times a day, and she doesn’t push me away. I dread the day when she does. But I know it will come.

The teenage years are somewhere in our future, and I fully admit to worrying already about what they hold for both of us. The mother-daughter relationship can be a rocky one during these years, and I suspect she won’t take too kindly to me burying my head into her tummy and kissing her toes as I do now.

I’ll of course do my best to be an understanding and patient mom and to help her navigate what can be an emotional time for many teens to the best of my ability. But how do I keep her from being a snotty teen? How do I keep her from talking to a waitress in a tone that I’d reserve only for someone who had just mugged me on the street? You know the tone. It’s the one I witnessed some teen girls using the other day when speaking to the very same waitress who had just moments before gone out of her way to move my party to a table that better accommodated a baby and who then proceeded to make my daughter laugh.

I hesitate to even write about this because I’m quite sure that in my past I used the snotty teen tone on more than one individual (sorry mom)! Who am I to judge? But I did witness some teens treat a hard-working, happy-go-lucky person in a way that made me extremely uncomfortable, and I have to hope that I can help mold my daughter into the kind of teen who won’t do that.

At this period in my life, it seems so much easier to be the mom of a nine-and-a-half-month-old who wakes up with an ear-to-ear grin than the mother of a high schooler encountering the trials and tribulations of ages 14-18. But as she grows, I’m sure I’ll grow in my desire to see her come into her own. I just hope that as she does come into her own she kicks the snotty teen tone to the curb.

Surely a baby wouldn’t grind her teeth. Most certainly, a baby wouldn’t exchange bird calls with a black crow on the limb of the large maple out front. Yet the alleged “baby” did just these things, and this is why I’m convinced a “small person” now inhabits the crib in the green bedroom off the stairs.

Back in eighth grade, I was “Mama #3″ in the chorus of “Fiddler on the Roof.” I thus learned every word to  “Sunrise Sunset.” And I admit that only now do I get what Golde and Tevye meant as they watched their eldest daughter marry and sang these words:

“When did she get to be a beauty? When did he grow to be this tall? Wasn’t it yesterday when they were small?”

I get it now. I thought I did before, but then I merely understood it. I didn’t “get” it. Everyone told me how fast the baby would grow, that I needed to cherish each moment. And I nodded and smiled. But suddenly I have a new appreciation for just how right they were.

And all this leaves me more than a little curious to see what the small person will be doing tomorrow. In fact, is it remotely possible that I now hear her tap dancing upstairs? ………Sigh…

Encouraged by Mrs. M’s praise of our voices, we returned each week for about a month. I don’t recall what tipped us off to just how bad our singing was, but I suspect one or both of my parents had something to do with it (I can only imagine the eye rolls and stifled laughter they enjoyed at our expense). All it takes now is a mention of the “singing tapes,” and my sister and I are brought to tears of laughter. We’re still in search of the infamous cassettes–they must be destroyed!

I mention all this because I have been singing A LOT lately. I now pity my poor husband who has to hear it. But baby girl seems to like it. I sing as I give her a bath. I sing as I change her diaper. I sing as I feed her a bottle. I sing because it’s sunny outside. I sing because it’s raining outside. With all this singing, you can imagine that I have gone through every song I know the words to and many I don’t.

What I find amusing is the song I found myself singing over the weekend when I couldn’t bear to sing “My Favorite Things” or “You Are My Sunshine” one more time. From somewhere deep in my brain, I pulled out the lyrics to my high school fight song, and surprisingly, I recalled every word. And she liked it. And so now we have a new song in our repertoire.

To all you Marian Mustangs out there, ping me if you need a refresher on the lyrics. (Oh and I fully recommend three spirited fist pumps timed to the “rah rah rahs”. It adds a little something extra to the performance.)

For it was he who said such things as, “All grown-ups were children first. (But few remember it)” and “Grown-ups like numbers. When you tell them about a new friend, they never ask: ‘What does his voice sound like?’ ‘What games does he like best?’ ‘Does he collect butterflies?’. They ask: ‘How old is he?’ ‘How many brothers does he have?’ ‘How much does he weigh?’ ‘How much money does his father make?’ Only then do they think they know him.”

Maybe you too have read this little book before? If so, I encourage you to read it again–especially if, like me, you’re a parent or a grandparent, Godparent, guardian or caregiver of little ones. It has made me take pause and consider how this little daughter of mine might look at the world–with no preconceived notions and a curiosity and wonder that I hope I can help her preserve as long as possible.

It reminds me of a birthday card I once received from a friend when in high school. I saved it (yes, I’m an admitted pack rat) because I liked its message, and until a recent re-decorating,  I had it hanging above my desk at home.

I think I need to post it in a place of prominence once again. I suspect the Little Prince would approve.

To this day, Chanel No. 5 still reminds me of my mom and the panic I’d feel knowing someone else would tuck me in. I wonder what, if any, scent will remind my daughter of me. Right now, I’m guessing it would be Tide since lately she has given to burrowing her head into my chest to relieve what I can only guess is an itchy nose.

Tide’s not so bad, but I think I may just pick up some Chanel No. 5 to continue the tradition.

Still, I think I need a new diaper bag. Any suggestions?

(Oh and btw, the bag on the right is the diaper bag……I think)