Find yourself

So we're driving around for errands and a song comes on the radio. A guy singing that he will let her go. But he will wait until she finds herself and comes back.

Emma: I like this song. I can understand all the words. He says he will wait for her to find herself.

Me: What does that mean? What does it mean for someone to find herselves?

Emma: Well, it's like someone really knowing who she is. Like someone can decide to be Goth. Just kind of decide that's what she wants to do. But then finally when she meets a boy who lets her be herself, she finds out that she's not Goth and finds who she really is. That's what.

Me: Right. Ok. (WAIT!!!! You're eight, right? High school is going to be a piece of cake! ..................................right?)

46!!

I've been planning a nose piercing and wanted to know Emma's thoughts on which side of my nose I should get it ---

Me: So Emma, if I was to get a nose piercing which side do you think?

Emma: *stunned silence... she stared at me in complete silence for what seemed like forever* MOM!!! You're forty-six! Forty-six! That's crazy!!! You're forty-six!

Me: Are you saying you think I'm too old?

Emma: Forty-six! OH.... let me guess you want to impress men! (totally out of the left field as there has been no boyfriends, or even friends around -- don't believe in involving her in any of that... but that's another story)

Me: I don't think I need a nose piercing if I'm wanting to impress men... this one is just for me.

Emma: Forty-six!!!

All this got me cracking up and here comes the final blow....

Emma: Oh, and if you think it will be cool... no chance with that laugh!

..........................snippet from my life as the cool mom................................

Unbelievable

Emma and I spent the holidays in Finland visiting family and enjoying our Finnish traditions first hand.

At one point we had a serious conversation on the racial distribution of peoples around the globe as Emma struggled to find herself belonging to the Finnish sea of white faces.

A few days later, on a souvenier buying frenzy we went from store to store to find matching Finland shirts for her and her soulsister, Brianna. After several unsuccesful attempts...

Emma: Unbelievable! Unbelievable that there are no shirts that say 'I Love Finland' or 'Finland is the Best'!

Me: It sure is. You'd think people would like to let the whole world know how great Finland is.

Emma: That's what I was thinking!

After a few minutes of thinking...

Emma: I'm not sure how to say this, but are white people... are they not as smart as brown people?

Me: (not connecting the dots yet) Tell me more of what you're thinking?

Emma: Well, because the Finnish people have not thought to make shirts about Finland...

Me: I get it.. It makes you think they may not be that smart. I can see how you might think that!

We went on to discuss the absence of evidence for any particular concentrations of intelligence based on skin color.

However, her comment made me think -- I never realized how innocently prejudice can find its way to one's thinking. Emma was only trying to make her environment make sense and drew conclusions on her very real experiences. She's a child.

I would like to think that as we grow up and mature we will reconsider our childlike impressions of the world, but obviously that is often the missing step. Keep hope alive...

Who knew parenting also covers anthropology?

generation gap

I take Emma and her best friend to school most mornings. The two are like sisters -- love abounds as do those misunderstandings.

One morning, unlike their usual array of musical dance numbers to the tunes of "High School Musical" or "Camp Rock", it was quiet in Emma's room and Emma was staring out the window and her friend just sitting quietly on the bed. I poked my head in.

Me: What's up girls? Are you guys pouting in here?

Emma: (still staring out the window) Mommy, you don't understand my life circumstance...

Me: OK.... It seems like you guys are pouting. Just wanted to know what happened.

Emma: We are young, you just don't get it.

Me: Right... (humbly leaving the room)

Emma: Even when you say "diggy yo-yo", it doesn't sound right.

..................
Sometimes I do feel SO old...

the budding artist

I was just recently trying to purge some stacks of paper that at some point appeared important enough to hold on to. In the process I ran into an old note I had written to immortalize a bath time song I overheard by Emma. At the time she was only 3yrs and 3mos old and was lost in her expression as she was singing the following:

And I know --

My Mommy said Yes.

My Mommy is my friend.

Be my friend.

I love my Mommy.

Be my friend?

My Mommy said Yes!

I can't let it end.

....Mommy be my friend.

founding fathers

Emma and I just returned from our vacation to the Black Hills of South Dakota. While there we visited the most beautiful sites including the impressive Mount Rushmore. Along the way we also frequented many stores with various souveniers for tourists like us. One particular T-shirt drew Emma's attention -- the shirt had a picture of the four founding fathers carved into the rock with an additional picture of four famous Native American chiefs. The text on the shirt says "The Original Founding Fathers."

Emma: Who are these guys that are on the shirt? Are they presidents, too?

Me: They are the chiefs that were here before the United States was formed and ruled over their tribes and the land.

Emma: So they were presidents!

Me: I guess you could call them that.

Emma: So the brown ones were here first!?! They started it!!!

Me: Right, they did.

Emma with such pride and satisfaction gave the infamous fist pump with an enthusiastic "YESSS!!!"

you know, boys...

After a long weekend at her Dad's, Emma and I were catching up.

Me: Sounds like a great weekend, Emma. But I sure missed you... so glad you're home!

Emma: I missed you, too, Mommy. One day I cried in my room.

Me: Oh, really? What was going on that made you so sad? Did you tell your Daddy you were sad?

Emma: Nothing, I was just in my room and I missed you so it made me cry. I didn't tell Daddy. He's a boy and, you know, he doesn't know how to work it out.

Me: Oh, I see.

Emma: He wasn't there so I just cried a little.

Me: What do you mean he wasn't there? Where was he?

Emma: He wasn't in my room. He was in his room watching his TV. You know how boys are.

Here's to hoping this early insight to the male psyche will save her a few unnecessary heart aches!