My eldest daughter is unfortunately taking after me in some ways.  For example, she’d rather read a book than play outside, even though I’m mean and I force her, kicking and screaming, out into the humid Virginia hotness.  This pays off sometimes, especially now, before reading will become a placard proclaiming “NERD!” in the middle and high school years. 

The Accelerated Reader (AR) program is a computerized reading incentive program that assigns a reading level and point value for each book in its program, depending on the book’s difficulty.  In non-educational terms, kids read books, take tests on a computer, and receive points for the tests.  Lily was especially motivated by the free Chik-Fil-A kids meal if she doubled her AR goal.  Turns out the cows got her first place in her classroom for AR points and in the top 10 for the second grade. 

She didn’t know she’d won until the assembly this morning.  Her cheering section was there and in the form and me and my parents, and her dad.  I got that intense mom-pride when she was called up on stage and while making fun of myself for my irrational pride (really, it was the Chik-Fil-A incentive that got her to win), I was still goofy and happy for her. 

The best picture a short girl sitting in the far back could get: 

Arden’s also starting to read on her own, so hopefully the idea of a free kids meal will get her plowing through the books next year.  Whatever it takes, folks.  Whatever it takes. 

I got an email today from Lily’s teacher, explaining that Lily had been crying in school today over some homework she’d done.  She said it wasn’t perfect and it made her upset.  That is fairly unusual for Lily (the crying, not the perfectionism - that she comes by honestly from her mother).  A little digging from the teacher and Lily said something about Arden keeping her up at night and hurting her feelings. 

While that may be true, or at least partially, I think Lily has an easier time explaining her sadness by attributing it to outside sources (like missing her best friend, her house, or the art teacher at her old school) than explaining what is the real source of her sadness.  This of course makes it sound like I understand the source, and while I think I do, I could be wrong.

It disturbed me to get an email about Lily, because usually she is the quiet laid-back one, always pleasing everyone.  I find it ironic that as I hit the wall with my people-pleasing ways over the last few weeks, Lily also has had enough.  She is sensitive and caring and worries about others.  Normally I find this to be endearing and sweet, but right now it has me worried.  Am I raising a codependent?  That’s all very dramatic, but I do worry about the future.  I’ve spent a lot of time worrying more about others than I do about myself, and making their happiness my sole purpose in life.  While it’s very martyr-like, it’s not particularly healthy.

My neighbor has Arden for the next hour so I can do homework with Lily and hopefully talk with her privately about everything.  I’m in a weird place too, so let’s hope I can put my mom hat on and rock out the understanding, kind and awesome mommy role. 

The final divorce decree came in the mail.  I knew it was coming; my lawyer had needed my address so when I saw his firm name on the envelope I was fairly certain what was going to be inside it.  I did okay with it but as I said on Facebook, seeing 12 years of your life and 2 kids summed up in four legal sounding pages is frankly bizarre. 

Susan spent the last few days in Richmond.  She sent ME a thank you note after, which is also bizarre (but totally like her).  We have an incredibly strong friendship.  I don’t know how it was that we formed the kind of bond we have, but it’s one of those that lasts until we’re both decrepit and old and smell really bad.  Having her here helped.  She’s very honest with me, but gentle about it.  She knows how to talk to me without getting my hackles up, but she can also directly tell me when she thinks I’m making bad decisions, being too hard on myself, or being generally nutty. 

It was interesting hearing her describe her version of my life back to me.  She said it sounded exhausting.  She thinks I do way too much and am spread too thinly.  Because it’s normal for me, I don’t think much of it.  It’s just how I am.  If I sit around too much I turn into a sloth and grow long toenails to help me hang from tree branches while I stuff my face with grapes and dew drops.  In all seriousness, I’m either going 100mph or I’m drooling on myself, face down on a floor somewhere.  Like everything else in my life, the gray area is hard to find. 

I’ve tried to cut back on things, and I’ve tried - really hard - to cut the bad or toxic things out of my life too.  Some days are better than others.  I’m just glad she was able to neglect her own family to help me take care of mine.  It meant a lot, and got me over the worst hump in recent memory.  As much as she’s a friend, she’s also a great teacher - she shows without telling, and corrects without demeaning. 

Arden, telling me about the movie “Babe”:

A:  So there was this guy who did Virus Dancing and he was really good.  I want to do the Virus Dancing too. 

Me:  Hmmmm.  Never heard of that. 

L:  (rolling eyes and sighing loudly) It’s IRISH dancing, Arden!!!!

Lily, loving Laura’s convertible BMW we have this week:

L:  Mommy, can we please keep the car?  Tell Laura she can have ours.

Me:  I don’t think so Lily.  She loves her car. 

A:  Then pay her for it, Mommy. 

L:  I think $10 will work.  Yeah.  Give her $10. 

It’s no secret that I have strong associations (and love) for music.  With the exception of screaming speed metal, I can listen to just about anything.  It started way back in 1989, when I DJ’d at a college radio station.  I took the slots they gave me - and one of them was called “The Revolving Fandango”.  It was literally a song from every genre of music one could think of.  Being 17-ish, I had no idea what to play for Blues, or Folk, or C&W, and most of the rock was alternative.  Thankfully I had some education in Jazz courtesy of my dad (he loved to drive my mom nuts with scat jazz).  I would wander around the tiny, smelly (think bean burritos, rank beer, a faint scent of urine, and something that always reminded me of moss) lovingly fingering the album covers, pulling them out and placing them on the turntables. 

Because 90% of this music was new to me, I learned A LOT about music genres and my taste buds for music became far more sophisticated than my taste buds for food.  It’s still that way. 

Along the way, music has been a backdrop for whatever I was going through in my life.  I would bond with albums and later CDs and now MP3s like lovers, depending on my mood and their staying power.  During the initial stage of my separation, I listened incessantly to Iron and Wine, Shawn Colvin and David Gray’s Draw the Line, which to this day I swear he wrote just for me. 

Nicole told me I had to listen to the new Court Yard Hounds offering.  Never a huge fan of traditional country music, I do confess to liking the Dixie Chicks.  I like them still with their lead singer on hiatus from them.  Emily Robison’s divorce obviously plays a huge part in the songwriting.  Nothing soothes my broken-down soul than other women crooning their way through their broken fairytales.  Misery indeed loves company. 

The opening song is called “Skyline” and I’ve put it right down there for you.  It’s my life, in this moment, in a nutshell.  Or an MP3 player, embedded on this site, which is way more tech savvy than a nutshell.  (or not so much, considering it took a good 30 minutes to figure out how to do this)

If you don’t feel like listening to the song (but you should), the lyrics are as follows:

What am I doin’ here
In such a lonely place?
Birds fly below
I’m high up in my cage

Wide awake again
Or am I dreamin’?
Trains passing by
World’s spinning ‘round my head

Then I heard a sweet voice cry
Telling me, yeah it’s gonna be alright

I just look at the skyline
A million lights are lookin’ back at me
And when they shine
I see a place I know I’ll find some peace
I just look at the skyline

I used to rush around
To keep busy in the day
Then we’d sit up and drink
We might find something new to say
No, I can’t live this way…

But then I heard that sweet voice cry
Telling me, yeah it’s gonna be alright

I just look at the skyline
A million lights are lookin’ back at me
And when they shine
I see a place I know I’ll find some peace
I just look at the skyline

I look at the skyline
A million lights are lookin’ back at me
And when they shine
I see a place I know I’ll find some peace
I just look at the skyline

What am I doin’ here
In such a lonely place?

In other non-divorce-related news . . .

Lily has always been fascinated with art. She’s been drawing since she could hold any type of instrument with color in it.  Her first grade class had a final project, and it was to draw the Queen of England.  Here’s her rendition:

Considering my artistic abilities consist of stick figures and lines that are never straight, I was impressed that my 7 year old is already drawing better than me.  She did it in watercolors and proudly explained that she made the “peach” color by mixing pink and yellow and a tiny bit of brown to give it just the right shade.  Arden’s teachers also tell me she’s advanced in art, but when they are your kids, it’s just the way they are.  I really try not to be like many of the moms I know, who think every little thing their child does is the BEST, most BRILLIANT, most GENIUS thing on earth.  Everyone has their talents and skills; Lily’s is definitely art and writing.  I can only take credit for the writing. 

Her first grade recognition assembly is on Thursday; she’s getting an award for something that will hopefully make sense during the presentation (it’s called something like “Appreciating Differences”) and an award for missing only 1 day of school and no tardies.  She would have had perfect attendance had I not given us all the stomach flu.  Way to go, mom!

This picture frightens me on so many levels.  Diet Coke, Mac, serious stare into the world wide web.  Let’s hashtag this picture as #badinfluence. 

(she wasn’t really drinking the Diet Coke)