Confession

So, um, I have a confession.

It's painful to admit this.

As many things as I have admitted on this blog, as often as I have told the unvarnished truth about my ridiculous escapades, as willing as I've been to expose my faults for your entertainment...well, THIS is worse.

This will out me as a REAL Dork of Epic Proportions. I'm even hiding it on a Saturday because my readership is lowest then. (I'm a dork AND a coward.)

Okay, are you ready?

(I feel very silly.)

(This is so embarrassing.)

My daughters, Ana (10.5) and Jane (8) are in particularly good phases right now and I cannot get enough of them.

Seriously, I'm just crazy about them. I miss them when they go to SCHOOL. I don't know what is wrong with me but I keep wanting them to get little stomach aches so they can stay home with me. It's just... it's not natural. Yesterday they were on the computer (they like to both go to Club Penguin on separate computers and then find each other and play) and I was kind of disappointed that they didn't want to play with ME.

I know, I know. SO not the Cool Mom Thing. Shouldn't I be complaining about how they never eat anything I cook and/or the mess they leave in their rooms? I KNOW!

It's just that they're so funny and creative and independent now. Ana, it turns out, has a really wonderful sense of humor and she cracks JOKES. She's doing really well in school and she's very disciplined about her schoolwork and she's made friends with this really nice, creative, smart girl. They are a delight to have around.

Jane hit a new level when she turned eight. I didn't see it coming but she left the last vestiges of her babyhood behind. She did not, however, leave behind her impish grin, nor her obsession with writing. She has a children's book manuscript finished and is working on the illustrations. She would like me to go get her a publisher, post haste. (I really wish I knew how to do that but my own work seems to be languishing here on my hard drive while I work up my nerve... JANE has no such shyness about HER work. When I explained to her that I had SELF-published MY book, she said that didn't sound like a good idea to her. "I really would like for this to be in every bookstore across the country, Mom." Oh. Well, okay, then.)

So, okay, I've outed myself. I can't help it: I'm enchanted by my own children.

Clearly, there is something very wrong with me.

(PS: I know that simply by giving voice to how wonderful I think they are, they will turn around and act like little demons to bring the forces of nature back in balance. I'm prepared for that. Theoretically.) (I'm hiding my car keys, just in case.)

******************************************
On the NaNoWriMo front, the winner of my contest is Ann in NJ who said, "She looked at her empty hands, the grey walls of the room, the white sheets. There was nothing here, nothing of color or character or beauty." which really got me thinking and writing. Ann, I can't remember if you have my book already or not. E-mail me and let me know if it's a book or yarn you'd like. And thank you.

The rest of the responses were dark, grim, bloody and laugh-out-loud funny. I thank you all so much. I don't know what I'd do without you, but my life wouldn't be near as fun. Special mention to Sherry Sea from Austin who said, "She put the hands back in the drawer and delighted in the air now flowing over her green tendrils. No more masks! Today, the humans would find out what she really thought of their puny civilization." which totally cracked me up.

Comments

You are not alone! I used to no sooner drop my kid off at school than I'd start counting the minutes until I could have her back in my life. Now she's thirteen and we both welcome a break from each other. From time to time.
ccr in MA said…
I love your confession! What a great "problem" to have.

I also cracked up at Sherry's writing contribution. So thanks to her too!
RockStories said…
Well, this makkes me feel a little better about the resentment I felt when school started up this year. After two years of working outside, I was able to work from home again this summer and I HATED when school started in the fall. Never mind that my daughter slept until 11:00 most days...the simple fact that she WASN'T UPSTAIRS while I was working downstairs was enough to have me reconsidering this whole school thing. The part where she didn't come down and have lunch with me anymore was the last straw.
Mrs.Q said…
HA! I read your blog on Saturdays. Nice try, Houdini.

Of course you have that particular "problem" - your kids are uber-cool! (And I also liked the "green tendrils" line...I'm sorry I couldn't think of anything to contribute, but my brain is currently occupied with miles - literally - of rather mind-numbing garter rib, as I attempt to knit a sweater for the resident Brobdingnagian chez Quimby)
Hannah said…
I find that very refreshing, since my children are all a bit younger still ...
kim said…
Oh, I think that is so sweet. My own mom was like that. She used to say, "Do you want to go to school today or go shopping with me?" Um, yeah, careful there... ;)
hokgardner said…
I know what you mean. Ella seems to have turned a corner now that she's 8. She's just such a cool kid to hang out with. I love having her around. It helps that she's now into reading all the books I loved as a kid, which means we can discuss them.
Miriam said…
This is SO ENCOURAGING. It may not be the cool mom thing, but it's awesome nonetheless. Imagine, there are closet enchanted-by-children moms all over the nation who are now ready to fess up.
Anonymous said…
It sounds like you should consider homeschooling. It is a wonderful way to experience all your children's learning moments. Plus, its fun!
Mokihana said…
I used to cry buckets every fall when my girls went off to school. I was so lonely without them! I loved spending time with them.

Treasure what you have. You're more normal than you think.

When hormones enter the picture, be prepared.

When they're grown, you'll get them back again.
Ann in NJ said…
I feel that way about my kids - some of the time. I will confess to a sense of relief most Monday mornings, especially if there's been a lot of togetherness over the weekend. But then I'm looking forward to Friday when I get them back!

I'm so delighted to have inspired you! I really agonized over whether to add more details, but I'm glad I didn't. Now you have come up with your own!
MadMad said…
I love it when they get to the age when they don't need you for every last thing and so you're not too exhausted to enjoy the good parts!
LaDonna said…
Oh, Barb! This is SOOOO not a bad thing! I, myself, am finding that Paige is reaching the age where she's becoming such a wonderful young woman that I love those times in the evening when dad is at work and Marissa is in bed so that the two of us can just spend some time together. Even if we just watch at TV show together, it's precious time. She's such a different person when she knows it's just her and me together, and she's truly a delight.

Just last night, Paige and Marissa were going to spend the night with a neighbor girl (no school today cuz it's the first weekend of hunting season...don't ask, it's a North Dakota thing) and about an hour after they left Paige came home. She said she wasn't feeling well. I felt bad for her, but inside, I was secretly excited that she came home. I missed my girl.

Don't get me wrong, I love BOTH of my girls, but there's just something about Paige right now that makes me want to spend every moment I can with her.

Don't fight it. Don't be ashamed of it. Just enjoy it!
Seems like you've got an ambitious little writer on your hands. How great! Your kids sound sweet. They grow up so quickly, don't they. My son is 8 and loves Club Penguin. Must be the age.
DK said…
I wish more parents came to me with that issue. Instead I get, "Fix them!" and "why should *I* have to go to therapy, when my kid's the problem?"

Not that I'm cranky about that.

Then again, they don't have your girls. Then again, my therapy kids don't have Ana and Jane's parents.

I so totally love that the girls play at Club Penguin together.