I Have Baby Pictures. I Know Things.

Celebrating differences. I do it every day with my daughter.

She is creative. I am not. First grade is not quite over yet and she lets me know she wants a new class of kids for second grade class because she wants to meet new friends. I seek out the familiar. I am not quick with my responses; my "should have said" conversations are brilliant!. She is very quick.

I have been working with a personal trainer and my sessions are about over. I am trying to decide if I should continue. It is fun, I can see results and I am not at all confident that I will get to the gym without someone to hold me accountable. So, I was talking to my husband about this the other night and ended with a long drawn out, "I don't know what to do. I am sooooooo perplexed!"

Without a beat, a moment of hesitation, or a blink of the eye, my loving daughter comes back with, "Mom, does perplexed mean fat?" 

First grader, fifth grade reading level, she knows exactly what perplexed means and the look on her face was priceless. Her eyes were big, her mouth was in a huge smile and she was laughing out loud inside, trying not to burst. Just wait until you get a little older sweetie, just wait.

Remember, I have baby pictures. I know things. 

Moving Forward While Capturing the Past

Emily doesn't send me birthday cards anymore.

I am not not sure exactly when the cards stopped coming but I am sure I know why. I did not reciprocate. We were friends in college and after graduation I was an officer in the Army, traveling, making my own money, giving orders and taking names (!); I had a bunch going on. It sort of was all about me.

I find that now too. With work, raising a kid and what not, I don't take (or make) the time to do much beyond what I do with or for my family. I do things for myself but they are pretty well limited to exercise, coloring my hair and blogging. I gain a lot from writing and while I do think about the audience and wonder if what I have to say will be interesting, that really is not the main driver of what goes onto each page. It sort of is all about me, again.

Or is it? Could it be that I am creating something for others?

My daughter's baby book ended at age 7 and I recently cracked the cover on a black moleskin bound journal. This journal will be where my husband and I can continue to write notes, thoughts, or advice to the young lady our daughter will grow up to be. The kid is aware of it and, as a matter of fact, a picture she drew of our most recent trip to the water park is the only thing in it yet.

Could this blog be a partner to my little black journal? The thoughts reflected here clearly are different than those that will be captured at home. Will they be of value or interest to her? To anyone other than me? Maybe, maybe not and the thing is, the thought had not even crossed my mind until I read posts on G-Town Talks and weblogg-ed.  Both speak to how their ideas will live on through the work they create on-line, through their writing.

Right now it is a blog. Whatever it is next, this medium continues to intrigue me with its potential for moving forward, capturing the past and making connections, all at the same time.

Hey, I wonder what Emily is up to these days?