exactly like me

You know those mirrors that magnify your reflection x10 or x50 and have a light all the way around them that are fastened to the wall on those movable, extendable arm thingies? I've seen them at places like IKEA, Restoration Hardware and even Target, I think.... yeah, I've never liked those. Not one bit. The way I see it, if you have to have it enlarged x10 and shine an obnoxious fluorescent light on it, well it's probably best left unseen or ignored. Picture yourself in a full-length one of those and hold that thought... we'll get back here in a minute....

My little 5-year-old asked if she could wear my perfume the other morning. I said, "Of course Baby, just please don't spill it." And then she proceeded to apply it to her neck and wrists ever-so-carefully in the exact manner as I do it.... and then she spilled it. All over. And I yelled at her. And an enormous tear immediately filled each of her big brown eyes and she climbed down off of her hippo step stool and slowly walked away deflated. Totally shattered. By me. And I felt horrible. I immediately stopped her, sat on the bathtub and took her by the shoulders and said, "Oh M., I'm sorry for yelling at you... but what's wrong, why are you so sad?"

"Because Mama, I just want to be exactly like you and I keep getting it all wrong."

And suddenly, there before me was a gigantic magnifying mirror (x50) encircled with the brightest, most unflattering light.... exposing every single flaw from the top of my perpetually 80s hair to the bottoms of my flat feet. There is nothing in the world that has ever made me feel so unworthy, stained and imperfect than when my precious little girl said those words.

And as I looked into her teary eyes through my own teary eyes...I saw me. Then. And a thousand things went through my mind, things I wanted her to know and believe and realize.... I wanted to tell her that I could think of a dozen people off of the top of my head that I'd rather her be exactly like. I wanted to tell her not to be just like me, but so much more. Better. Smarter. Stronger. Kinder. Wiser. And the list just goes on and on. I wanted to grab her and explain all of my mistakes so that she may avoid them.... show her all of my mental, physical and spiritual scars so that she wouldn't have identical wounds one day. I wanted so desperately to point out all of the detours, potholes and traps that I've found along the way so that she would be prepared. I wanted to face her toward the magnifying mirror so that she could see me the way I see myself and all of my imperfections. And perhaps then, she wouldn't want to be exactly like me.

But the fact is, although she is an old soul (the depth in her eyes dates back long before me), she is only 5. And anything I wanted to pass on to her was just too much. Too deep. Too heavy. Too far beyond 5. So when she's a little older and if she still wants to be exactly like me, I'll tell her this....

Lovey, be like me...the good bits. But be better. Get there faster. Don't take the same wrong turns. Don't let your heart make too many of your decisions. Live in the big picture, but appreciate the smallest of details. Be a good listener. Cheer for the underdog. Don't be so hard on yourself. Say what you mean and mean what you say. Wear bright lipstick, sing in the shower, and stick your face out of the car when you're driving. Eat spicy food. Dance whenever you want, however you want. Look up at the stars (and the puffy clouds). Learn to make good decisions. Remember that you teach people how to treat you. Give and accept compliments. Do your best at everything you try and try lots and lots of different things. Live just outside of your comfort zone... but visit your comfort zone from time to time. Be a good friend and a gracious lady. Go explore and discover and know that you can always come home to me to recharge and refresh and to plan your next adventure. Ponder, reflect and think....about who you are and who you want to become. Know that who you are is a direct reflection of Whose you are. And know that you are His. Don't need things. Set all of the earthly desires aside and invest in the things that will outlast this life. And my darling little girl, remember that all of the things in this life that were lost on me can be found in Him and reflected through you. Find those things and be exactly like no one but you. (You'll be enough like me, you already are.) And don't ever buy one of those magnifying mirrors. If it needs to be enlarged and lit up that much... you don't need to see it.

And then we played in my perfume.... all of it... sprayed and spilled and sampled and ran it through our hair... and smelled like French whores for the rest of the day......................

The 'J' is for Juggernaut

The Juggernaut. That's what Cody calls you. And when you arrived into this world, three and a half short and messy years ago, that's exactly what you were....a massive unstoppable force that crushes any opposition in its path. Every thing you do is... full throttle. When you smile, you do it with your entire face... your entire being. You're so rough.... if it's breakable, you break it. If it spills... you spill it. If it's off limits... it's ~game on~ for you. You're always bruised and scraped and dirty and sticky and when you come to love on me, I brace myself and guard my internal organs and soft tissues. You're so loud. When you sing and talk and whisper and even when you sleep. And you're so very funny.... What an enviable disposition you have been given! I adore it.... and I adore you.

Orion J. ~my sweet, little curly girlie...please hold onto that zest for life. Please continue to soak up your surroundings, your inspirations, your experiences, your passions with all of your senses... jump in, get dirty and sticky and bruised and bloody. Fall and fail and jump in again. Be exactly who you are at the top of your lungs and with all of your strength. And for as long as I am able, I will pray a hedge of protection around you and I will have plenty of wet wipes and princess bandaides available. I am here. With you... I

I haven't missed a single minute. Watching and listening and learning (and cleaning up after) and so unbelievably thrilled to be part of the unstoppable force that is you.

I should've known at "Kool".

I should've known. When I chose a kids' dentist office whose very name is misspelled (albeit on purpose, in an attempt at being clever I suppose) Kool Smiles. I should've known. When I chose a dentist that was sandwiched between a carniceria and a check cashing/loan shark business. I should've known. When I chose a kids' dentist who strangely decided that rap and an unusual (not in a good way) hybrid of Mariachi and Tejano music would be a nice mix for their patients (who are 10 and under). I should've known. When I chose a dentist that close to the Air Force base. The South side of Tucson is in some ways similar to the South side of Chicago, except that it has better Mexican food and fewer crooked politicians. I should've known. When we go inside and the really great jungle gym, slide, rock climbing, play area thingy appears to have been dipped into a Rotavirus/H1N1 cocktail, followed by a layer of melted popsicle and then topped off by a light coating of dirt and granulated sugar. Yuck. I should've known. When they call the 3 and 4 year-old patients to come back and insist that I wait in the lobby. A part of me thought, "You're crazy if you think I'm going to let my 3 and 4 year-olds go back there by themselves. That will be mayhem for them AND you." The other part of me (the more sarcastic one that lives her life with tongue-in-cheek) thought, "You're crazy if you think I'm NOT going to let my 3 and 4 year-olds go back by themselves. That will be mayhem for them AND you. Good luck with that..." In the end, the sensible me won (in addition to being sarcastic, the other one tends to throw in the towel way too soon in my opinion) and I did accompany the girls back. However, this was not before they insisted that I NOT accompany them, but rather peer through a two-way "interrogation mirror" while they were being seen. I should've known. When I chose a dentist for my children that uses two-way mirrors....

I will be returning to our previous dentist who sports the lime green Easy Tone Reeboks and Lily the lovely hygienist who was born to work with kids. There is no playland and the music is unremarkable, but I don't feel like I need a shower when I leave. I will however, be returning to that carniceria for their specials on chorizo and queso fresca.

Sir Lancelot and a life plan

Ahhhhh....so many reflections, so little time to sit down at a keyboard. Maybe I'll start putting out my posts via my cell phone.... you should see how fast my thumbs can go...... Ok, fasten your mental seat belts faithful readers, because I'm going to be posting like a madwoman here pretty soon.... or not. I don't know. Probably don't fasten your seat belts just yet...in fact, go grab a frosty beverage and watch a little something on TV. I'll post when I can. That being said, I'm going to tell you a little story (100% true) about a boy, a bike and a life plan....

A couple of weekends ago we attended a wedding of sorts... OUTSIDE... in ARIZONA... in JULY. Who gets married... OUTSIDE.... in ARIZONA... in JULY? It was like I was burning alive. The only things that would have made that experience hotter would have been if the ushers had been passing out pashminas and hot cups of cocoa to all of the guests... but that's not the story here. After the wedding and after the big flaming ball of fire finally set behind the mountains, there was a reception and there was dancing. And what transpired was straight. from. a. fairytale....

Under a twilight sky, Sir Lancelot comes riding toward the dance floor on his trusty steed, the breeze in his hair and a weathered, determined look on his face. Ok- in full disclosure, Lance was 5, he rode in on a little red bicycle complete with training wheels and a horn and probably what made his face look weathered were the remnants of wedding cake and frosting trying desperately to avoid ending up in his mouth. But his name really was Lance and that has to account for something, doesn't it?

Our handsome knight proceeds unrestrained to the dance floor and no sooner than you could say, "destiny," he locks eyes with the fair little maiden M. Rhapsody. And then they embrace. And they dance and dance and dance... And it's as if the knight and the fair little maiden are the only ones who even exist in the entire world.... Until in a Shakespearean-esque twist, there is suddenly another enchanted moment between little Sir Lancelot and who else but another fair little maiden...Orion.... Oops... And so begins the centuries old love triangle.... But as a courtesy to Little Sir Lancelot, I would like to recommend that he not mess with the Musial sisters... they are part Mexican and part Puerto Rican and they will cut you.



As I am watching this from a safe distance, ("safe distance" in this case being close enough to not miss anything but far enough to not interrupt anything.) I can see it all going down as though I'm watching a movie without sound.... and then (from stage left) I see the maidens' father walking toward the trio with an expression that looks as if he's got some plans for the little knight's sword and they don't include cutting the wedding cake....

And if you had been lucky enough to have been privy to the conversation that ensued, you would have heard the following....

Protective Father (of both maidens): (slightly annoyed) Hey Boy, I saw you dancing with my daughters out there.

Sir Lancelot: (also slightly annoyed but for entirely different reasons) Yep.

Protective Father: Are you asking for trouble?

Sir Lancelot: Nope.

Protective Father: How did you get here?

Sir Lancelot: My bike.

Protective Father: Do you have a life plan?

Sir Lancelot: What's that?

Protective Father: What are your plans for the future?

Sir Lancelot: I wanna drive monster trucks.

Protective Father: Really. Does that come with a 401k?

Sir Lancelot: I dunno.

Protective Father: You tell your dad I'm watching you. And I'm watching you HARD.

Sir Lancelot: Ummm..... Ok, I will.


And as quickly as he had come, Lance was gone again.... on his trusty steed... wind in his hair and determination on his face.... In search of a life plan perhaps... or possibly just a nice big glass of milk to wash down the wedding cake....

And there on the dance floor stood two sad little maidens and one protective father with the beginning of an ulcer and a strong desire to start cleaning his shotgun.

defenseless.

There are three things in this world to which I am utterly defenseless.

This little face is one.


(That nasty public bathroom that we are in is NOT another one....)

beFOUR you...

Before you grow another inch, learn another word or gain one more bit of independence. Before you stop calling your chin, your "chinny chin chin," and before you stop wanting to be a mermaid princess. Before my kisses stop healing your owies and before my silly stories stop making you giggly and wide-eyed. Before I can't carry you on my hip and before I can't throw you on the bed and before I can't scoop you up and cradle you in my arms. Before your hand no longer fits in the palm of mine and before your feet don't drown in my high heels. Before "Mommy" becomes "Mother" and before I stop being able to answer your questions. Before you stop pretending and playing and dressing up. Before you stop riding your rocking horse buck naked with cowboy boots and your Easter hat. Before you stop eating from Dora plates, flower utensils and drinking from princess cups. Before you stop mimicking me, wanting to be just like me and before I stop being your hero. Before you stop wanting me to tuck you in and kiss you goodnight and before your prayers of thanks stop including rainbows and fireworks. Before you have one more birthday and before you have one more first. Before who you are right now becomes who you were.


Before you turn 4, I want you to know. I loved you even before I met you. I loved the hope...the promise of you. You were a miracle when I first saw you and you are a miracle every single time I look into your big espresso eyes. You have brought me so much joy and wonder and perspective and pleasure and magic and laughter and there is not one day that has gone by that I haven't humbly thanked our Creator for selecting you for me to raise and mother. You are sweet and loving and affectionate. You have a tender heart and soft spirit. Sometimes when I'm with you, I get a tiny glimpse of who you are becoming and will be and I'm just overwhelmed... little you... overwhelm me and amaze me and inspire me.


Before I forget the details of your little face and the subtleties of who you are right now, before the daily and even hourly transformation of you creeps in and steals the little you from my arms and my eyes and just a few short weeks before your birthday, I want you to know. I LOVE YOU so very much. I want you to know that your name, Rhapsody~ "an effusively ecstatic expression of feeling or enthusiasm," fits both you and my love for you, perfectly.

A Rose by Any Other Name.

Now that winter is drawing to an end here in the Sonoran Desert, (and by winter, I mean it took at least 40 additional minutes to brew my sun tea) I guess I have come to terms with a few things that have been vexing me for awhile now. Not just little things either, like the fact that I will never be able to properly fold a fitted sheet, (unless you consider the appearance of a gigantic piece of wadded up gum properly folded) I'll never be able to spell bougainvillea (the pretty bush with the bright flowers) by memory, but I will without a doubt always go for the cheap haircuts even though the range of results varies a great deal. I just can't spend that much money on hair that recovers from any wrongdoing in a matter of weeks. As it turns out, I can accept these things. I can live with a closet filled with clean, crisply folded sheets on one side and huge pieces of wadded up cotton (600 count I might add). I can function nicely without spelling the "b" word-afterall how many times have I ever actually needed to spell that word? I can even rock the bi-level/90-10 haircut every few months if it means saving that much money. What I'm having trouble letting go is something much worse....something I've brought upon myself and my daughters.

When I became pregnant with my first daughter, there was no question what her handle would be. I've thought Rhapsody was a beautiful word for years and the meaning would be even more fitting for a daughter that I would love to mother. Rhapsody: an effusively or ecstatic expression of feeling... The "M." came later in my pregnancy when I realized that I would be giving a person whom I had never met a lifelong name that they would need to grow into. A name is an important thing to give...and I wanted it be a thoughtful name of which she could be honored and answer to proudly. I decided that once she knew who she really was, she could come up with the name that encapsulated those characteristics...the only stipulation was that it had to start with the letter 'M,' which in my opinion is one of the most beautiful letters and flowed nicely into Rhapsody and frankly, lots of words start with 'M' so it would give her enough choices. There it was M. Rhapsody Musial... fun to say, fun to write, fun to ponder what the M. would ultimately come to stand for in her own time. I took some heat, some strange looks and comments, one of my favorites being, "That's ridiculous" but in the end I felt that it was a small price to pay for something so important. Considering what teasing kids might come up with and how it would look in Broadway lights, I thought I had covered all bases. Nope. Totally overlooked the initials. You know, on every form in your whole life- you have to put first name, middle initial.... so what once was a beautiful, melodic and feminine name was now butchered and destroyed to MR Musial. Perfect. Sorry Lady Bug. When her social security card showed up in the mail, Jay thought it was addressed to him.

When I found out that I was expecting another daughter, I was at a loss. I didn't think I would have more than one child in the first place, always thought I'd have boys, and used up the best and only girl name I had ever thought of. What did that mean? Jay's turn? But then what would she end up being called up to on her graduation day from Harvard Law? Louise Galactica? Tequila Petrone? Tava Jr.? I love my name, but it's mine. She needed her own and it had to be good. My final cut was J. Lyric... went well with M. and was also melodic and to tell you the truth, I'm hoping for a singer. This time, the 'J' would be after her Daddy. Maybe if I gave her his name, she'd grow to have some of the many traits I've learned to admire. Jay liked the idea of having her named after him, but Lyric? Not so much. Since we both love the nighttime firmament and all of its splendor, it wasn't difficult to assume that we would agree on a name from the heavens. But when you start looking into star names, Alpha Centauri, Procyon and Fomalhaut just aren't that fitting for bouncing baby girls, unless they happen to be from the planet Romulus. Likewise the name xy4986l.203 wasn't what either of us had in mind. At a little boy's birthday party, Jay decided on Orion, one of the most beautiful and most recognizable constellations in the heavens combined with Jai, a feminine version of the name of one of my most favorite people...hmmm. I liked it. Fast forward to now when people constantly pronounce Orion Jai- OR-EEE-UN HIGH (as in Jai Alai, I suppose) and proceed to look for a little boy instead of a little girl. Well, not exactly what I had expected, but would work itself out in time...however, don't get me STARTED on how many people have never heard of the constellation Orion... Anyway, it didn't take long for me to realize in naming this little one, I had DONE IT AGAIN!! Her initials... O.J. Not so heavenly...

Well, it is what it is I suppose. I acquiesce. On the upside, my friend told me last night that they've both really grown into their names. That being said, I think I'll take MR. Musial and "The Juice" to the park before naptime.