Conversation(s) with my Daughter

I frequently find myself talking to my seventeen month old daughter. This really comes as no surprise since I used to and still do when she's not around, talk to myself. But since the day I found out I was pregnant, I began talking to her. I mean it was 2005, she had allot of catching up to do!
So, in the car for example, I would let her know when another driver had done something incorrectly. Or when I was being less than a courteous driver I would justify to her why Mommy had to do that and how it was okay because Mommy doesn't have a metal fish on the back of her car. I would also play lots of music for her, letting her know which songs were my favorites and what they meant. "Here comes the best part," I would say as Jars of Clay prepared to go into a certain riff. If we got in the car and Toby Mac was blasting I would explain that Dad had driven Mom's car last and would now be looking for that CD for a week.
The best part though was that before she was born I could share food with her without actually having to sacrifice any bites off my plate. And back then she miraculously loved all the foods I loved. I continued drinking lattes for example, even though certain people told me I should give up all caffeine and even chocolate while I was pregnant, (just because you put the letters MD after your name doesn't mean you can go around telling people what to do) because Charley loved lattes so and I thought you know she only has these short nine months to enjoy them before she has to give them up for a whopping sixteen years or so! Now sometimes she was a bad influence on me as well, I admit as a parent in training there were times when I would give her an inch and she would take a mile! For example, I would get her a latte and she would kick out in Morse code that she also wanted a scone. What was I supposed to do? Kick back "no"? You can't go around kicking your fetus!
Anyway as time has gone on our conversations have become more two-way, which is both good and bad because she doesn't always agree with me the way she used to. However, she comes up with her own ideas which are great. For example my husband came home the other day and I casually informed him that Charley wanted to take ballet lessons. "But, I told her that she can't until she's three. She was sad." Devlyn replied with the usual, "Do you hear yourself?" Sometimes he does mix it up though and just gives me a look which means, "DO YOU HEAR YOURSELF?!"
I do. I hear myself. Charley hears me too, and I............hear Charley!

Thank You Notes!

I don't know who came up with the idea of sending thank you notes. Someone well meaning and truly thankful no doubt, however what they didn't know is that the gesture they were doing as an "extra mile" kind of step to show how truly appreciative they were for something, would soon be turned into standard proper ettiquette. This strips the whole thing of it's original purpose!
For this reason, I hate receiving thank you notes. First of all they make me feel guilty. I feel guilty because it's a reminder that here's another person who's so on top of it...and that I am not. I rarely send thank you notes despite the fact that the tradition seems to be alive and well. Secondly, they make me feel guilty because I now realize that when I gave that person a gift or did them what I thought was some kind of favor-I was really creating a dreaded, daunting task for them!
They start out, "Jessica, Thank you so much for..." and all I'm really hearing is "Jessica, I have to get this thing written and mailed so it won't be hanging over my head anymore! Thanks alot for making me do this!"
Now, it's not that I am against showing gratitude or appreciation. However, truly, I am fine with a genuine thank you at the time of the "thoughtful transaction", or even the next time I see or talk to you even if that is six months later-it lets me know that when you see me, you associate that "thoughtful transaction" with me and it has stuck with you all this time. The genuine thank you means even more at this point even if it's said to me in the line forming outside the ladies room at church and not on flowery, pastel colored, paper! So please, please don't ever feel like I am pacing back and forth on my front porch, just biding my time until the mail man arrives because perhaps, perhaps today will be the day he brings me my much desired-strike that-deserved thank you note! And please don't do the same thing waiting for mine, because it's more likely than not that you will wear out your front porch and I will be obligated to feel guilty for that as well!

Intro

Recently, I came across a new email titled "My new blog". "Uhhh, Sarah Glos started a blog," I informed my husband. When I said this, I was actually informing him of both the fact that Sarah had started one, but also of the unspoken fact that I was certainly going to start one. He inferred both of these facts. "No. You do not need to start a blog." He tried to reason. "Oh, on the contrary. I, I have to start a blog!" I declared, standing as I said it for emphasis. I must admit, I used to snub my nose at blogs. When I thought blog, I thought blah, blah, blahg. I used to think of them as nothing more than outelts for whackos enviornmentalists and rogue politicians on soap boxes. They are out there, but I warmed up to the idea as soon as I realized, I could have one. For the record, I would fall under the category of "rogue housewives".
So, here it is my blog! My Glorious blog! This is, depending on who you are and how you look at it, my gift to you, or my gift (admittedly) to myself. If you are my lovely grandmother, you think the first, but if you are say, my husband or my sister, you think the latter. I, of course, think both. Now, even though this blog is for me and by me, I promise it will not always be about me. How's that for a compromise?