Sunday, January 26, 2014

Ree-dic-lee-uth

When David was little, he rocked a lisp. So much so that he had to go to speech therapy and practice saying "She sells sea shells by the sea shore" for months at a time. He still doesn't have it quite right, and makes weird whistling noises with his teeth when he's tired. So very charming. 

When Morgan started talking, I noticed immediately that she had inherited yet another trait from her dad. I was initially worried that we needed to get her into a speech class, but her lisp quickly became one of my favorite things about her. Because Morgan talked so early, I took it upon myself to teach her really long and really inappropriate words. My mom was less than impressed when I taught my toddler daughter how to perfectly pronounce "gonorrhea" -  

Now that she's older and actually understands what most words mean, I no longer try to get her to say things that are inappropriate (frankly, she's got that down). Now, we're just working on the English language as a whole, trying to master really complicated words like "ridiculous" - it's proven to be harder than we thought. 

Every one keeps telling me she will eventually outgrow her lisp. I am going to be so very sad when she does. 

Sunday, January 19, 2014

Open to Interpretation

We were cleaning out some of Morgan's art work, selecting a few pieces to go in her scrapbook. Now that she's five, I am letting her identify drawings or projects that she really likes. When she finished sorting, I noticed a sheet of paper I hadn't seen before. As I gazed at it quizzingly, she said "Oh Mom, we have to save that one!  I drew you a pair of scissors!!"

Of course we do, because that's exactly what I thought it was.

Wednesday, January 15, 2014

Cha-cha-change

I quit my job. My last day is Friday. I emptied out my office tonight. I have a new job. I am excited and petrified.

I have worked for the Idaho Legislature for 8 years. It has been one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. I have helped inform policy decisions, made recommendations to state agencies to strengthen their operations, and have played a small, but very important role in helping to improve state government. It has been a privilege and honor (fine, and exhausting at times). And now I am moving on. To Higher Education. Because my husband is a teacher and we should do everything in our power to make sure our daughter knows just how important education is to us. You know, the whole united front thing.

Change is a funny thing. Whether it's planned or unexpected, the prospect of change is enough to cause your breath to catch, your chest to tighten, your eyes to become fixated on the ceiling at 3:00 am. Change is hard. This was my first job when I moved to Idaho, the place where I worked when we bought our house, where I had my daughter, where I grew as a person and a professional. But it's time. I am ready for a new challenge.

When I decided to take my new position, I questioned whether I should take some time off from school. But then my precious, precious daughter reminded me that, "Mom, I want to be a thinking doctor just like you when I grow up." And so I will keep juggling, keep pushing, keep trying to be someone that Morgan will be forever proud of. Even if it costs me a few nights' sleep and a few more gray hairs. Because change is good. I think...



Sunday, January 5, 2014

Paying it Forward

When I was little, I can remember sitting for HOURS as my mom rolled my hair into sponge curlers and then sent me off to bed for a very restless and uncomfortable night's sleep. The following morning, I would sit patiently as she removed the curlers, eagerly awaiting the long ringlets that were sure to be cascading down my back. Inevitably, I always looked much more like our poodle, tight curls stuck to my head like little suction cups. My mom would try to brush them out, only to transform me into some version of a walking pom pom. No one should start second grade looking like they've been electrocuted.

As I passed through the grocery store last week, something on the very bottom row caught my eye. Sponge curlers. They still make them. I couldn't believe it. I was going to have the opportunity to pay it forward, to torture my daughter in the very same way my mother tortured me. 

Last night, I told Morgan that we were going to make her hair look JUST like Rapunzel, long and flowing. Not surprisingly, she was skeptical. After a lot of begging crying pleading persuading, she agreed. I wasted no time in rolling those bad boys right up. I then sent her to bed, warning her that if she so much as rolled over in the night, her hair would be ruined forever. No pressure.



She woke up this morning screaming bloody murder, totally panicked because one of her curlers had come loose. As I quickly unrolled them, I could see that her curls were perfect, flowing down her back in the perfect little ringlets I had always imagined but never had.

Get ready, David. I think we both know what I'm wearing to bed tonight.