Norway

On the way to school this morning, after we'd taken turns singing princess songs and moved on to another favorite topic, all of Natalie's babies, I asked:

"Is Mimi Chinese?"

Natalie and Mimi at DisneyWorld, 2008

"Nooooo. Mimi from Norway."

I think she said Norway. Norway?? How would she know about Norway?

"What, honey?"

"Mimi from Norway, same as Baby Miss Ann."

"Oh. I did not know that," I said. "Did you go and get her?"

"Yyyyyep. When she was one. Really, really small."

Hmmm. This story sounds familiar.

The Baby Bag

Baby Miss Ann in the Baby Bag

I spent my lunch hour today taking Baby Miss Ann over to Daddy's House. She had been waiting patiently in my car in the front seat, tucked into the Baby Bag which also was carrying Natalie's and BMA's matching cherry sundresses, a princess early reader book, a pair of hot pink sparkle shoes and about 25 tiny princess dolls and their outfits. All of life's necessities.

I was on the phone with my dad in the car.

"I'm taking BMA to Matt's," I said.

"Such is life after a changed relationship," he said.

I decided I'd never be the divorced parent who sent her kid to school with a bag of belongings for her days away at the other parent's house. I'd always make things easy on Natalie. This, afterall, was my problem. Not hers.

So every Thursday, in preparation for Natalie's stay with her dad, Natalie and I drop BMA and the Bag at Daddy's. Mostly in the mornings before school, so he can run out and give her a kiss and crack a few jokes. The dog normally comes outside, too, and he bounces around the yard and maybe even lets loose a howl.

But this morning I was running late. So at lunchtime I drove up from Downtown to University Heights and hung the Bag on the boat parked in the driveway. And then I said a quick little prayer asking God not to let the crazy guy from around the block steal Baby Miss Ann.

I would much rather hang the Bag on the back door, protected by a locked back gate. But I no longer have a key.

Such is life after a changed relationship.

The best mother - comma - ever

On Easter Sunday Natalie wrote a note to Baby Miss Ann.


I have two things to say about this letter.

1. Natalie is really into commas. (Two weeks ago it was question marks, e.g. this recent sentence: The frog is in the mom's purse?)

2. She is going to be an excellent mother.

Like mother, like daughter

Check out Natalie and BMA. They match!

Marshall's, 16 bucks for the set!

Trouble is, now that dress is all Natalie wants to wear.

Happy to be home

Last night as Natalie and I were getting off the freeway, we put the windows down.

It was a warm night, the sun was just setting and we were happy to be returning home. So happy in fact that Natalie felt compelled to announce her approach as we made our way down Del Cerro Boulevard.

"Baby Miss Aaaaaaaaann! I come home righ naaaaaaaaaaah! Baby Miss Aaaaaaaaaann! I come home to youuuuuuuuuuuu!"

I was happy, too. A barking dog, a purring cat and a handsome man still in his suit and tie greeted me at the door. And the view wasn't too shabby, either.

It's so nice to come home.

Natalie's Dad

This is Natalie's dad.


He's holding the famous Baby Miss Ann. (He calls her BMA.) He brought Baby Miss Ann to Natalie's Christmas pageant so Natalie would know that her baby saw her perform. It takes a special kind of guy to carry a baby doll, nevermind pose with one on his lap. (It's way worse than carrying a purse.)

He's a great dad.

By the way, don't you think I look like The Penguin?


JRBCAXWJZYKY

Notes from Mom

Sometimes I leave a note in Natalie's lunch.

When I was little, my mother wrote on my napkin. Or drew curly hair and pointy eyebrows on the shell of my hard-boiled egg. I really liked that.

Recently I left this note, after a particularly successful swim lesson at the Y.

She must have liked this note, because it came home from school with her empty bowls and dirty napkin. She asked me to read it a few times, and then we posted it on the refrigerator.

This morning, while straightening Natalie's papers on the dining room table, I found this.

Watermelon

It's the universally flattering nail polish shade preferred by three generations of Fitzsimons women.

Natalie's World

Mornings around here can be a little hectic.

We get up early enough: 5:40 in order for Natalie to be at school and me at my desk by 8.

Nevertheless, we are often running behind. We lie in bed cuddling. We swaddle Baby Miss Ann and talk about our dreams. We plan our outfits. We make coffee and chocolate milk and smoothies and sausage and oatmeal.

And then about 25 minutes before we're supposed to leave, I get into the shower. And while I'm doing my makeup, Natalie brings her tea set into the bathroom. While I'm drying my hair, she stands at the door, her little lips moving, but I can't hear a thing. This is all very stressful for Mama.

Enter the camera. Lately, Natalie will disappear for five minutes, returning to ask: "Mama, I take peek-peek my babies?" She has arranged her babies just so and now she wants to photograph them.

So I give her the camera, grateful for a moment's peace. And later, I look at what she's shot, and as I click from one frame to the next I see Baby Miss Ann - lots of Baby Miss Ann - and her other babies, and me, and Elmo, and the apartment.

I see what Natalie sees. I see her sweet little life.

Being Here

Too often my head is down. Dinner, dishes, bath, bed. Breakfast, dishes, school and work. I check my watch. I tell Natalie to hurry.

"Quickly, please!" I say, keys in hand, shifting from one foot to the other as she stops to inspect a leaf, or search the trees and power lines for the bird whose singing she hears.

This movie, made by Natalie's dad, made me stop.

And now I remember what I often forget. That no chores, no routine, is more important than what's right in front of me, if I'd only look up.