Contacts

As all children her age, Julia is very technology proficient. She has my old phone where she plays all of her apps. In fact she recently organized everything into the following folders: Stuff I Like, Learning, Selfies, Fun, Old Games, Good Games, and Not My Stuff. Of late, she has been really interested in the Contacts, specifically who gets in and why. She asked me the other day if the kids had her daddy entered as Uncle Bobby. I thought probably so and told her as much.

This past Friday morning she and I are eating breakfast together and talking about who she is playing with at recess and such. She has always said that she and I would be best friends always. In a flippant and whimsical way I said, "You still are going to be my best friend always, right?" "Of course," is her reply without hesitation. And then there is a pause and she looks down. "Well," she says, "I did promise Tia that I'd put her in my contacts."

Louis, The Daredevil

Bobby and I have worked fairly hard at having a Christ centered life. Sometimes I feel like we are really getting it and other times like we're so off the mark. With Julia we focus mostly on Jesus, acting like Him, being close to Him and such. We have mentioned and discussed sin, but it is not our focus. 

Julia makes two sacraments through the Catholic church this year, Reconciliation and First Holy Communion. Tuesday began her first catechism class of the year. That evening, Bobby returned with all three kids. As they were coming to the dinner table, it was a flurry of talk about how their new teacher seems, what school friends are in their class and such. Julia was very animated, worked up almost. Her teacher told them the story of Louis, the saint, who fell from grace only to become the evil, Daredevil. She said she just didn't understand why God would create him. I told her that was a longer conversation and politely corrected her. I told her the correct names are Lucifer and the Devil. She said she was just more used to the word daredevil and would call him that instead. 

She Would Never Do This to Her Dad

Long before I became a mother, I recognized the exquisite solitude of standing under a running shower. It is a mind clearing oasis; some of my greatest thinking occurs there. It's also an unparalleled therapy session. When my parents died in quick succession, I realized that there is no finer place to cry. The shower fan and running water drown out that loud hyper-ventilating crying that occurs with profound loss. The abundance of soap and water promise to leave no mascara trail. As a mother, I quickly learned that most everyone will almost always leave me alone there. Most and almost being the key words there. Every once in a while, my zen-like meditative atmosphere is pierced by cruel reality. A few showers ago while I was deep in quiet thought, the back end of the shower curtain rips open with such force that Norman Bates himself would have jumped back. Startled, I look to see an unphased Julia peeking her head in. In her hand is a miniature Hershey bar. "Um, do you think it'd be okay if I had this?" Is it because we are both females; because I entirely lack modesty; or else is it just a child's unconditional expectation of their mother. Regardless, she would never do this to her dad. Lucky, lucky me.

Name Calling

We approached the gate house to our city park and the woman who has held the day shift for the ten years that I have been going there steps out. She is a roundish woman well into her sixties. Her short bob with severe bangs accentuates her stern face. But looks are deceiving. She is kind. Although she knows me, she is steeped in protocol. I show our pass, and we make small talk. I roll up the window and drive on to the parking lot. From the backseat Julia says, "If I was that lady's mom, I would have named her Karen. She looks like a Karen to me." Long pause, "Or maybe Kerrie or Terrie. Yeah, definitely one of those."

Summer Reading List

We stopped at the library yesterday so Julia could redeem a prize for reaching her reading goal. While there, she asked if she could go grab some new titles. I told her to meet me in my section when she was done. She's been on a biography kick.
Here's what was in her stack:

Abraham Lincoln

King George III

Bill Gates

Michelle Obama

So much for light summer reading. 

The Father's Day That Turned Into Mother's Day

So, I should begin this post by stating that I have not gotten physically sick since a tequila-induced, spring break incident back in,,, (I dare not type the year of my senior spring break, as it seems b.c. even to me). Father's Day started with a happy feeling. Bobby was home early from Shanghai and able to celebrate. Shortly after a big family breakfast, I started to feel really fatigued. I went and laid down. Shortly after, my stomach was turning. From there on, I spent the bulk of Father's Day sleeping, vomiting (I did not handle my first time in twenty some years well), and groaning (see previous parenthetical remark). Bobby spent the bulk of Father's Day taking care of Julia and the boys; playing nursemaid; and disinfecting after me. After one long slumber I awoke to find a card Julia made next to my pillow.

 In case it is difficult to read, see below.  I'll type it with the correct punctuation and capitalization so that I don't have to type [sic] a bunch of times. The teacher in me would be remiss if I didn't mention that it needed no spelling corrections.

Dear Mom,
Me and Dad [sic] love you. We hope you feel better. Dream of us praying for the best mom ever, and no matter what I say I will always love you.
Love,
Julia

I shared it with a friend saying, "How lucky am I?" Her response, "Like my pastor says, 'more than I deserve'."

Julia and Bobby are both more than I deserve.

Spelling Like a Keyboard

I was orally quizzing Julia on her spelling list words the other day. I say, "Inspect." She repeats, "Inspect- I-S-P, wait,,,backspace, backspace, I-N-S-P-E-C-T."

Backspace?

Language Acquisition

Julia has been watching reruns of the sitcom Full House. The other day she is retelling me the plot (if you can call it that) of an episode she especially liked. She pauses mid story and says that there was one part she didn't get. In the particular scene all three kids go racing through the kitchen. Danny laments that he has just waxed the kitchen floor. Julia says, "So does he spread the hot wax down, put a piece of paper over and rip. I mean that floor is huge. He'd be doing that all day. I just don't get it."

My baby with the Middle Eastern blood,,, the only wax she knows is the warm kind that is thinly spread over your upper lip and pulled off using a strip of paper.

D-E-F-E-N-S-E

Last week we attended one of Isaac's basketball games. Julia is moderately interested, at best. The parents are cheering and coaching from the bleachers. Halfway through the game, Julia lifts her index finger in the air (a cross between the universal one minute sign and a meek, questioning classroom hand raise). She says, "I just have one question. Is defense the name of a player or is it a thing?"