Goodnight, Song

Every single night for most of Suzannah's life and for all of Charlotte's life, I have recapped what we did that day and then sang a song to them before kissing them and tucking them in for the night. We've always called it our "goodnight song."

The original goodnight song was "I've Been Working on the Railroad." Then it became "You Are My Sunshine," but with a slight change in a couple of the verses; I sang, "and when I woke up, I saw you sleeping/so I laid my head down and smiled" instead of the original verses: "when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken/so I hung my head down and cried." Less traumatic. Slightly.

The goodnight song saw my girls through a lot of changes. I sang it to an infant Suzannah when she wailed in the middle of the night. I sang it to a toddler Suzannah after her little sister was born. Through all the years of (loud) fighting with their dad, I sang them the goodnight song. The song became a trio during the separation and the divorce.

At some point this summer, the goodnight song was no more. And I can't remember how a routine that became like brushing my teeth just... stopped. Was it all the consecutive sleepover nights with friends? Was it that we were so tired at the end of the day that we fell right to bed in the evening? Was it that I was so distracted that I stopped offering the goodnight song?

It doesn't matter. Having shared the goodnight song with each other for so long, we are better prepared to be there for one another going forward. And I can't wait.

Fickle

So, dear Blog, I've been cheating on you with Facebook. Or FB, as I affectionately call him. FB was just so new and exciting - I felt ALIVE with FB. Sob. But I swear, I thought about you all the time. Ok, some of the time. I got addicted to FB; it's like crack for nerds (oh wait. that's Star Wars).

Anyway, I'm back. Don't be frightened.

Tweet my fears

Now that I'm a grownup, I've decided to face my fears. What am I afraid of? Monkeys, over all else. Also, touching raw meat. And the feel of gristle in my mouth. Plus also I have a paralyzing fear of failure and of disappointing my loved ones. However, I have decided to address my fear of Twitter at this time.

I'll let you know when I've decided on a username, which could take a while. Why? I am afraid of committing to one username.

I'm a big girl now!

I watched Juno the other night, finally. Really liked it. But there was a scene that got me thinkin, which doesn't usually produce good outcomes. The scene was where Juno tells her stepmom that she hung out with the guy who made up half of the couple who were going to adopt Juno's baby, and that he was really cool, played guitar, etc. The stepmom then says that it's not right to hang out with a married man and that there are rules.

What are these rules? Where can I get a copy?

Other than a glib thought that, in 2008, a woman should be able to be friends with anyone she wants, including married folks regardless of gender, I've never really thought about the propriety or impropriety of friendships with those in marriages or serious relationships. When I was a preteen, I remember my mom saying that proximity breeds desire. I thought that was just old-woman-crazytalk back then, but now I think there's something to that. Think about interoffice romances, the boss doing his secretary, Jim and Pam, Dwight and Angela. Think about Jaime Gumm: We covet what we see every day.

Now that I'm in the most mature relationship of my life (mature as in we are both trying to act unchildish, not mature as in we are both approaching middle age, for Christ's sake), I no longer act like the cool girlfriend (Mental Note: blog about that later). I see that it's necessary to be vulnerable, to express emotion, to let the other person know I appreciate him and think about him. And I found all this out when I met pretty much my equal in this relationship. He can be as hard-to-read and aloof and fiercely independant as I am. A good friend of mine characterized our early relationship as 2 icebergs colliding. Yikes. But now we both talk about our hopes for this relationship and about each other. It feels like a new & different place for me, but it's warm & comforting too.

Mrs.

So, a couple weeks ago, I thought it would be a good idea to volunteer for my 5th grader's field trip to Marshy Point for a "hands-on experience with nature, get ready to get wet!" (that's what the permission slip said) Now, in my 20's, that description would be supremely exciting, but now, not so much. Anyway, I did get chosen from among the throngs of excited parent volunteers. Oh boy! No, it'll be fun and I'll have done my penance for all those evenings I've been spending working on cases, instead of playing Uno.

In anticipation of the field trip, my 5th grader brought home a sheet of paper today listing the parent and his/her assigned handful of children to watch over while at Marshy Point. The paper referred to the parents by a Mr or Mrs and then their last name. So, I am Mrs. Hugh. I married myself, apparently. What happened to Ms., goddamnit? Women don't need to be married to have a child, jackasses. Hello, the 1950's called and they want their rigid, backward notion of a traditional family back, before Mrs. Cleaver has changed into a dress, chilled the gin, and put the pot roast on the table.

Happy

What is happiness? It has to be a static state of being. Watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy and eating a bag of salt & vinegar chips while drunk may be happiness for, oh I don't know who, but it may be pure nerdy misery for others. And when you try to define happiness in a relationship - holy hell, everything (and nothing) goes.

More to come... there's a scheduled outage now.

Do this right now

* Grab the nearest book.
* Open the book to page 56.
* Find the fifth sentence.
* Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions if you want to.
* Don't dig for your favorite book, the cool book, or the intellectual one: pick the CLOSEST.

Here's mine: "The documents listed are intended to be illustrative and not all inclusive." (Mitchie's Annotated Code of Maryland, Commercial Law 1-202, comment 2)