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Reflections and ruminations from a modern day Alice - Life is Wonderland
Reflections and ruminations from a modern day Alice - Life is Wonderland

Modern Day Alice

Welcome to the place were I chronicle my own falls down dark holes and adventures chasing white rabbits! Come on In, Take a Bite, You Never Know What You May Find...

"Curiouser and curiouser." Alice in Wonderland

I'm docked at Talent Pond's Blog Harbor, a safe port for bloggers to connect.

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May 21, 2020 at 3:04pm
May 21, 2020 at 3:04pm
It seems I've quarantine my own muse these last two months and writing has seemed like a luxury I could ill afford between playing teacher in addition to working from home. I have been taken by surprise by the demands on my time in a time of self-isolating. This week, my state slowly began reopening and with it came a drive to get back to what makes me, well me. That means writing...fitting it in anywhere I can. This forum, and these blogs feel like the best way to come back from what has felt like an extended slumber.

Blog City
Day 2136 May 21, 2020
Prompt: When do you feel the most creative?

The hour of my highest productivity has changed over the years. In the early days, it was always in the evenings. I would write well into the wee hours, uninterrupted by the hustle of an active house. There was something about the silence that would fuel me. Post motherhood I have found that early mornings are when I am inclined to write more. The dogs get me up before the sun most of the time. The world is quiet and something that grounds me and makes it easier for me to let the words come. I tend to write in my head, securing one or two cornerstone phrases to memory, until I can sit down in front of my computer and put it all together.

Blogging Circle of Friends
Day 2743 May 21, 2020
I feel pity for....

I have never really like the word "pity", it has negative connotations for me. The people I have pity for make me feel sad, they make me feel empty for them and for my connection to them. I feel pity for my adopted brother who has burned every bridge to anyone that ever loved him in a blind, substance-dependent rage. I feel pity for my mother who has cut herself off from real, meaningful relationships with her children and by proxy, her grandchildren. I feel pity for an ex who turned my admiration and affection to dust with his fists. He lives in a state of regret now that even though I have given him my forgiveness, I could never again give him my friendship. I feel like I have far more compassion for people than pity these days, I believe that to be a good thing.
May 21, 2020 at 11:04am
May 21, 2020 at 11:04am
Blue skies and sunshine have dominated these last few weeks as my corner of the world slowly and awkwardly embraces a new normal in the wake of COVID-19. While we may not be out of the woods yet, it is hard to ignore the burgeoning hope borne of anticipating shopping trips and movie nights out again. For my daughter, she is most anxious for play dates and time with her friends. This whole thing has been hardest on the kids I believe, especially the ones who do not share their home with siblings. Without brothers or sisters as de facto playmates, our daughter has felt the isolation more keenly than her Dad or I ever could.

As I returned to working in the office full time, she has dutifully packed up her school work and snacks each morning to go in with me. To her credit, she has complained little about trading our spacious home for my narrow office for more hours a day than I wished were necessary. She has adapted to working independently as I shoulder some of the responsibility of helping the company best position itself for the challenges of a post-covid world.

On our commute in this morning, Sara Evan’s “Supernatural” came on the radio. I was instantly transported, through a haze of glossy memory, to a time when I was a newly minted mother. I used to love the rolling, Celtic melody of that song. I played it often back then, it made me feel happy and hopeful. As the tune spilled from the speakers, I was suddenly once again that young woman, slowly dancing across the sun-warmed wood floors in my bare feet, my infant daughter cradled against my chest. I could feel her full head of dark silk tucked under my chin, her tiny, clutching hands at my chest and the side of her perfect face pressed in close to where my heart beat fiercer than it had ever before. It had felt like magical moment suspended in time.

It was that kind of tactile memory that floods your every sense. The kind you experience as a flash of time when you can feel it all again, with every cell of your being. I believe those type of memories are gifts, bestowed on us by the benevolent beings when we need them the most.

With my throat thick with emotion, I flicked my eyes to the rear view, trying to reconcile that tiny baby with the growing girl in the back seat. I can still see her in those soot dark lashes and sloping brow. The soft curls are gone and so it the round, cherub face. My daughter, closing in on age 11, is morphing into a strong and graceful beauty. She has an athleticism that inspires me, a quick wit that delights me and a kind heart that melts my own. Those tiny clutching fingers have grown into lovely slender digits that flit effortlessly over piano keys and nimbly type out text messages to her friends. She is reaching that age where she begins to move farther from me as she meets more and more of the world head-on.

There are times though when the child reveals itself, more so during the time of this quarantine. It seems that the swift and uncertain turn of her world has regressed her in some small ways. For example, she has insisted on falling asleep between us again, as if it gives her a measure of extra comfort at the end of these strange days. She seems to want the physical contact with us more, bestowing random kisses and full armed hugs, when she had taken to shying away from them before. In other ways, she’s dropped her guard. At times her growing maturity has suddenly slipped to reveal the child again. Just the other day on a hike with her Dad, she was startled by a snake crossing the trail in front of her and it was as if the shock of it turned her into a panicked child again. She ran screaming and crying up the trail. She would only be calmed by a piggyback ride from her father, well past the part of the trail where the offending creature had disappeared into the brush.

If there are positives to take away from a pandemic like this, it is the time we have been given to spend with our daughter, to focus on and enjoy the moments of quiet and chaos that come with her growing up. It has made me pay more attention to the precious balance of life and the amazing gift of lucid memories. There might even be something almost something supernatural about it all….


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January 15, 2020 at 11:27am
January 15, 2020 at 11:27am
Our little girl woke up this morning with a wide grin, ready to embrace her double-digit birthday with open arms. She proudly flashed the crisp $20.00 bill left under her pillow by the tooth fairy, informing me with unrestrained glee, that “she usually gets $5.00” and “she must have left me extra because she knew it was my birthday!” She then proceeded to get dressed in her school uniform, humming loudly all the while and taking frequent breaks to gush over Lola who watched her with an equally unrestrained adoration.

Her mood might have been elated but mine felt far more subdued. This birthday feels different. I do not feel ready to embrace the double digits, the doorway to all thing’s “tween”. I am not ready for her to begin a new journey that will end in her leaving behind the childish trappings of her youth. I ache with the bittersweet notions of those coming losses, those casualties of her growing up…not far off now it seems as she marks this milestone. After depositing her, and her birthday donuts, at the classroom door, I found myself fighting back tears on the way back to my car. As much as I want to share in her enthusiasm, I feel so much like a mother on the brink of something I am not prepared for and it has left me feeling uncharacteristically unmoored.

These days I am struck by all the small things that mark her changing. While she still prefers to clamber into our bed at night, she has begun going to sleep in her own room. She has taken to wearing a sleep mask she got for Christmas. It has a wild, purple zebra pattern that looks at odds with the little girl sleep smile she wears. I check on her to find that, even in sleep she has begun to straddle some invisible line between the child and the young girl. One of her arms is wrapped tightly around her stuffed horse Roo and the other is draped loosely around her dog Lola, that flashy eye mask firmly in place.

This week she asked me to paint her nails. She has managed to grow them at last, despite barn chores and piano lessons. The nail polish I had at hand was a perhaps a shade to dark for her, but she still brandished them proudly. As far as I can tell, they are her only real vanity in the otherwise athletic and unadorned style that she’s adopted as her own.

Last night at the barn she went about her chores as usual, taking a break when a song came on she liked to “dance with Roo”. I had to laugh at her antics, her silly made-up moves that garnered only the most casual glances from her munching horse. He is growing used to his child, the one who covers his soft nose with kisses and prattles about his stall, talking about her day even though he is far more interested in his hay. Still, I seem him turn to watch her with his large brown eyes, his curiosity as clearly evident as his affection for her. At times he seems to have this expression that says, “yup, that’s my kid…that weird, wonderful, chatty little being right there”, and I find myself in a complete and kindred agreement with our gentle gelding.

Watching her this morning, I found myself thinking, “Yup, that’s my child…that’s my silly, kind, smart, crazy, loveable, “on the verge of something wonderful” …little being right there.”

I don’t know how much longer she will believe in the tooth fairy. I don’t know when she will retire her stuffed animals or when I will stop finding her wrapped around me like a koala in the night. I do not know how much longer she will break into those random fits of wild dancing. For now, I celebrate those things and I feverishly document them…leave my testimonies in electronic ink so I will have them always. While I might not be 100% ready for double digits, I know I am more than grateful, more than blessed for the opportunity to be part of it all.
December 2, 2019 at 10:13am
December 2, 2019 at 10:13am
30 Day Blogging Challenge
PROMPT November 30th
Congratulations on making it to the last day of the competition! What was your favorite prompt from the last month? Did you learn anything new about your fellow competitors? What was the most rewarding aspect of participating in the competition?

Welp, I almost made it through blogging every day...with the exception of every day from last Thursday until today. I'm just going to catch up with this last entry though because it is the most important one of the last several I have missed.

I think my favorite prompt was one that challenged me the most - about the toughest decision that I had to make. It took me a while to get through it and ultimately it gave me something to look back on I think I needed.

This has been a difficult undertaking this month but I am glad I put myself out there. I continue to be impressed by my fellow writers, their honestly and their warmth, their battles and their achievements. I've looked forward to reading their responses and been overwhelmed with their comments on my entries as well.

I would like to thank Charlie ~ for his candid and insightful blogs about not only his struggles with his approaching graduation but with being an introvert in a world that is often unforgivingly obtrusive. I wish him all the best and will always be a fan.

🇺🇸 Carol St.Ann 🇺🇸 Loved her take on so many of the prompts and appreciated the kind feedback she often left on mine. I am envious of her close-knit group of friends and the wonderful ways in which they keep in contact.

So many of Eric Wharton blogs made me laugh, always enjoyable insights and clever humor.

Apondia Commented on many of my entries with encouraging words and it was much appreciated.

I thank all my fellow bloggers for putting themselves out there, for inspiring me to complete a blog when I wasn;t feeling it by making the effort themselves. And for reading...always reading and taking the time to comment. That is always a gift from one writer to another, to let them know they've affected you in some way.

Wishing all a safe and happy holiday season and a wonderful New Year.

November 27, 2019 at 8:54am
November 27, 2019 at 8:54am
30 Day Blogging Challenge
PROMPT November 27th
Write about a time when you surprised yourself with your abilities. Is there a specific time you can remember when you were convinced that you could not do something, and then you did it? Tell us!

I've been struggling with this prompt this morning, not because I have done so many things but because I was never raised to believe I could not do something. My parents subscribed to the adage that "you can be or do anything you want in life if you work hard enough" philosophy. The concept of there being something I was "convinced I couldn't do", is the part I am wrangling with. It is a bit idealist and unrealistic to believe I could have done anything of course. I don't think I could have ever been an astronaut or professional athlete for example but I also never would have pursued such things in the first place, so how would I have ever known? It seems more apt that I've been surprised by my ability to do something, or that I've done something and gotten far better results that I had expected too.

One thing that comes to mind is my semester project during my time at the University of Hilo, Hawaii. We had to work as a team to complete a density of life and diversity study on the reef at Richard's Bay. We had to lay out quadrants along a section of the reef. Then, we had to take turns identifying and counting all the organisms that appeared in every square meter of it. We did this by snorkeling just below the surface and laying down a metered square of PVC piping and recording every single element of biolife we saw, over and over again, over the entire area.

It was difficult work. The metered square was awkward and it floated up and moved with the current if you didn't grasp it tightly. The surf was often rough and it took a lot of effort to stay in place and not slip off location. The sun on our backs was unforgiving and the sunscreen had to be reapplied more often than we could afford to stop. We eventually opted for wearing t-shirts instead, which restricted movement more on the most tricky sections of reef. You had to watch out for sea urchins which were plentiful and fire coral, which was everywhere and could leave you with very nasty skin abrasions. There was always the chance encounter with sharks or moral eels to be wary off too. The weather often did not cooperate and rain and rougher seas could make focusing very difficult. The days were very long and we were all exhausted by the time our afternoons on the reef were done. We also still had to write the paper and publish our findings and the project was to be our entire grade for the course.

By the end, our team of three was nearly wrung out with the efforts. The was only one day left to complete the last section and we had only 5 hours to do it in. We were also down a team member, Ray, was out with a stomach flu. It fell to me and my teammate Heather, to get the field work completed on time. We worked in shifts on the worst weather day we had seen. A particularly strong surf had slammed us both into the coral heads and bounced us off the bottom in the more shallow sections. We were exhausted and bloodied. I remember thinking that we would never finish. After my last break I sat, nursing my blazing elbow with my back and shoulders on fire, thinking how much I hated the thought of going back in. Everything hurt and I felt water logged and nauseous. I honestly entertained fudging the remainder of my line, just duplicating data from random sections and moving from the field to the paper writing early. Then Heather came back up, her face whipped raw but her eyes bright behind her mask. She handed me the counting square, smiled and said, "last fucking run baby!". I pulled on my mask and fins, gave her a high five and slipped over the side.

I'm not sure how I made it through that last 40 minutes, I just did. We took that final data and together our team plotted the results and produced our findings. And we kicked ass. The professor called out our team for all the effort and hard work. The three of us stood beaming in front of the class while he lavished praise on our work. I remember thinking at the start of the semester, if there was ever an instructor I had wanted to impress more than anyone, it was this guy. I had made my impression and I was thrilled. Looking back over all the data, I was really surprised at what we had accomplished and at how I had been able to rally and push myself that last day on the reef.
November 26, 2019 at 11:08am
November 26, 2019 at 11:08am
30 Days Blogging Challenge
PROMPT November 26th
Thanksgiving is coming up later this week in the US. Today, tell us what you’re thankful for. Make a list describing at least five things you’re thankful for.

I love that this prompt allows me to legitimately "make a list". I've already been doing that all morning for work so I am fully in the "list" zone by now.

Things I am Thankful For:

1. My family - I have a wonderful, hard working husband who knows all my baggage and dark secrets and who loves me regardless. We have a beautiful and amazing daughter who will turn 10 after the first of the year. Our little family unit is rounded out nicely by an aging Min Pin names Turk and a young dobi-mix named Lola who is my daughter's ultimate BFF. This summer we added Roo, a 12 year old gelding quarter-horse cross to our montley crew as well. Our new home puts me 7 mins from my sister and her horse farm where Roo lives. We are about 6 mins in another direction from my brother and Jaden's cousins. My siblings and I haven't lived this close to each other since we shared our childhood home and that nice. This Thanksgiving we will celebrate the first one together in one of our homes and everyone is looking forward to it.

2. My job - Though it has been responsible for a large amount of heartache recently, I am thankful for the years I have amassed and the skills I have built over two decades. It has afforded us the ability to own a nice home, take the annual vacation and otherwise live in moderate comfort. I am very grateful for the consistency and security is have given me in this life.

3. Our Home - Leaving our old home behind was harder than I had imagined but since we have settled in our new home I am so glad we made the leap when we did. I love our home, the openness of it and the space. I love the wide, residential street where we can see our neighbors walking their dogs and have that feeling of security. I love the natural yard and the fact that my daughter has space to run and play. I love our resident animal populations too from the deer to Turkeys to our fox family and resident red tail hawk. I even love to watch the bats swooping over our heads in the summer months. It had everything I could have wanted and more that I hadn't realized I could want. We are very blessed to have this place to raise our growing daughter in. *Fox*

4. Health - Both my own and that of my family. I could be in better shape but overall I feel strong and healthy. I am lucky that my HS has been largely in remission, or at least has remained manageable over the last several years. I still have rough days but my outbreaks are limited to places that can not be easy seen and I can control the pain and discomfort more easily than in the past. I've also avoided much of the disfiguring scarring that others suffer from with this disease, as well as the accompanying depression. I am very grateful for that.

5. Writing - I am thankful that I am a writer, that I made this remarkable discovery so many years ago that keeps me sane. It is my anchor and my sole source of expression. It is my therapy in electronic ink. If I could not write, I am not sure I could cope effectively with being a human being. I am most thankful for my craft, that is never leaves me completely and always returns when I most need it.

I think that list is pretty much the top 5 things..
November 25, 2019 at 3:15pm
November 25, 2019 at 3:15pm
Soon, very soon…my daughter will be in double digits. With the start of the holiday season rushing in on the coat tails of Thanksgiving, it will be here in no time at all. And while I look forward to celebrating her 10 year birthday, I do so with the familiar bitter-sweetness that has become a hallmark emotion of being her mother.

Age 9 has been an eventful one. It has been a year full of firsts. This year marked the first time she’s joined a team sport, playing for our town soccer league both outside and indoor. This is the first year we have all come to learn the delicate balance that comes with managing multiple after school commitments. This will always be the year she got her first horse. It was a beautiful moment, witnessing her stunned joy. It was a surprise unlikely to be matched by much else for many years. Age 9 also saw her first pimple, and an abundant show of gratitude once I managed to camouflage it with some of my “magic” cover-up.

This year she began wearing those tiny bralets under her clinging uniforms…a decision that was much more about laying the groundwork, rather than because she really needed them just yet. It was also the time of “the talks” about hygiene and the importance of washing her face….talks made all the more imperative after that first major pimple appearance the same week as school pictures. We talked also about a girl’s first period, something hopefully that is a year or two off. She is still so much a child, but there are some signs and things can change so rapidly and I want her to be more prepared than I was.

She is still shy, though she is beginning to open up to adults she knows. I see her testing the waters by ordering her own food and having more animated conversations with her soccer coaches on the sidelines. I think she is more outgoing when I am not around, a dynamic I don’t fully understand. All the same, I try to back off more and give her some room to engage others outside the realm of her mother’s shadow. She is still so easily embarrassed and I am always afraid to upset the balance of her world in some accidental way. I am encouraged by her building confidence on horseback but dismayed with how much she still fears getting hurt or failing at something. I find myself frustrated, watching her on the field, dogging the ball or falling back when I know she has the speed and skills to attack. I often ask myself, “How do I encourage her to be more aggressive?” Then, I find myself asking, “ but do I really want her to be more aggressive?”

My daughter is, at her core, sweet and reserved. She mostly plays her emotions close to her chest. At 9, she has developed this silly, funny sense of humor that she really only reveals to a handful of family members and her best friend. Her timing is spot on though, and I think I have laughed out loud at her antics this past year more than any before. I hope double digits brings her more confidence and more opportunities to share this wonderful, vibrant part of herself with others.
I am convinced 9 year-olds have compromised hearing. I need to repeat things four or five times before she “hears” what I am telling her yet, she her ability to eavesdrop on my conversations is startling. It has spawned more than a few arguments and shouting matches that have sent the dogs dodging for cover. My husband has frequently had to step in, to remind at least one of us, that they are an adult. My frustrations with my daughter however, pale in comparison to my pride and admiration for her.

I have seen her push herself well outside her comfort zone to achieve something she wanted. I have seen her rally after an injury, stifling tears and tabling the drama to run back out onto the field or climb back up into the saddle. She has been brave when she hasn’t really wanted to be. She has turned toward a challenge, even as I see how much she wants to run back to me.
My daughter is a nice girl. She is a good friend. She is loyal and loving. At 9, she prefers the company of girlfriends but seems to also enjoy the quiet and polite boys in her class. She seems blissfully unaware that, in the space of a few years, the boys may start paying her a bit more attention. Even as my daughter stands, fussing with stray ponytail hairs in the mirror and mugging playfully with her reflection, she is completely unaware of how beautifully unique and lovely her features are. I have caught myself tearing up at how beautiful she looks in some outfit she has casually put together, not realizing how the color she’s chosen sets off those amazing sea green eyes or how the cut and fit show the graceful lines of her slim silhouette. She is so physically different from me, that it takes my breath away. The truth is, she just takes my breath away…in the moments of her wild at play, in the midst of her darkest mood, in the sweet silences of her sleeping…in all her movements and motions.

My daughter at 9, might be my physical opposite but there are ribbons of my own nature woven into her being. She seems to share my far ranging musical tastes, adopting my playlists as her own on our car rides and during our time spent cleaning or tending to Roo. She loves having people over, playing games and spending time with family. She has greedily binge-watched some of my favorite shows with me, as interested in Stranger Things or The Umbrella Academy as she might have been with some of her more mainstream choices.

Sometimes I’d like to say my daughter is a mini version of me, a “mini me”, but in truth she is very much uniquely herself. She is a wonderfully blended mix of her Dad’s quiet nature and summer-kissed caramel complexion and my fiery temper and penchant for debate. My daughter is also prone to goofy song and dance numbers, funny photobombs and bursts of manic storytelling. She is obstinate and argumentative, seeming to relish flexing her mental muscles with me most of all. She is unabashedly affectionate. Most nights she clamors up between us in bed, insisting she wants to still fall asleep with us even though she’s almost ten. We wake up to her most mornings with one of her legs cast across our bodies or her arms around us, sleeping contently, as close to us as she can get. She will still randomly take my hand when we are walking, or drape her arm around my waist while we wait in line. She does these things almost unconsciously, undeterred by the strangers and observers around us.

She calls me Mother Bird when with her friends and Mamma when it is just the two of us. She will thank me, sincerely and unsolicited when I do something for her or buy her something she has asked. She will just as readily storm off with an exaggerated stomping of her booted feet when I scold or embarrass her.

Everything in her current wardrobe is black, blue or gray and all of it is devoid of glitter, ruffles or depictions of small woodland creatures. Even the dresses she selects for herself, when forced outside her typical leggings and hoodies, are unadorned and easily paired with cowboy boots and denim jackets by design. She is developing a style all her own and it’s one that I secretly love on her.

There are a few months remaining until her birthday candles number 10. I have enjoyed this 9 year old version of her, even though I have spent most of this year feeling like she was once again moving too quickly for me to keep up. Her steps have been different than those she took as a toddler when her racing, stumbling feet kept her just ahead of my reaching arms, carried forward by momentum and sheer will. Her steps away from me this past year have had the measured, deliberate cadence of a young girl discovering the best parts of herself to explore and expand her world. I am immensely grateful that, no matter how far ahead I feel she is getting, at 9 she still always takes the time to look back and assure I am still there….if and whenever she needs me.
November 25, 2019 at 10:17am
November 25, 2019 at 10:17am
30 Day Blogging Challenge
PROMPT November 23rd
Write about writing. What makes you feel inspired to write? What steps do you take to get your words from your head onto the page? What does your editing and rewriting process look like? What have you learned from fellow writers?

I really hate playing catch-up but I've promised myself I will meet every prompt even if I have to catch up from the weekend. It is part of trying to develop some discipline, which as a writer, I sorely need. Writing starts in my head, I write in my head a lot. Sometimes I take notes on my notepad app to remember when I get back to my computer. In most cases though, I just start writing and things flow...to a point. Even my best ideas and prompt responses tend to hit a wall. It is the reason why I've failed to write any novel length fiction. I lack discipline and time to myself.

I write, then I spell check. Then I read through, and make the obvious edits. I tend to avoid extensive re-writes or completely scrapping something. I think there is something of value in anything my muse inspires me to write. For a fictional piece, I will leave it, then go back to it later. I've found that very often, I can get to a happier place with it by editing portions rather than reworking the piece completely. Blog entries have taught me to write and walk away...my first attempt at a prompt is always the most pure and that is what blogging is supposed to be, right? Real and honest insights and emotional responses...at least that's what they mean to me.

I am constantly learning from my fellow writers. Reading their work and following their blogging has been one of the most insightful and useful tools WDC has provided. I get inspired by reading the work of others and feel blessed to be part of that larger community. The biggest thing I have learned from fellow writers is to be fearless and to write at whatever cost. It is in that honesty, you find true connections and its those connections that make us all better observers and thus better writers.
November 25, 2019 at 9:58am
November 25, 2019 at 9:58am
30 Day Blogging Challenge
PROMPT November 24th
What numbers hold special meaning for you? Consider dates, times, ages, years, or anything else you can count.

My dates and times would be all the normal milestones I think:

April 18th, 2008 - The day I got married, again - for real - to someone wonderful.

Jan. 15th, 2010 - The day my daughter was born. The best day of my life, hands down, with the day I found out I was expecting a girl, as a distant 2nd.

My 40th birthday...the last one I celebrated with a formal party. The year I felt I had finally reached an age where I didn't have to give two flying f**ks about what anyone thought of me any longer. It was like crossing a magical boundary and on the other side, I was Wonder Woman (a bit chunkier but with great, kick-ass boots). After that, I've celebrated almost all my post-40's birthdays in Provincetown,Cape Cod, vacationing with my family - with my favorite peeps in my favorite place.

Christmas Day Morning...hands down my favorite time of my favorite holiday. Christmas morning was the most magical time of the the year. When I was a child, I'd wake up my siblings and we'd all tiptoe out to peek before raucously waking my parents. As I got older, I came to appreciate the other things about that time. My mother always baked muffins and made breakfast and my grandparents would come over. The morning would pass lazily with this contented buzz about everyone. Christmas morning is even better when it is your own child. I love when she wakes us to go downstairs...even though as she's gotten older some of that childish enthusiasm and excitement has burned off a bit. I can see that she is also growing to love the tradition of my sister coming over to have breakfast with us too. This year, I'm hosting both my siblings and their families, as well as her grandparents for a late morning Christmas brunch. I think my daughter is most looking forward to that and it warms my heart.

November 25, 2019 at 9:36am
November 25, 2019 at 9:36am
30 Day Blogging Challenge
PROMPT November 25th
If you could be a fly on the wall of any living person’s life for one day, whose life would you want to observe?

It's Monday of a short week that will end in a holiday where I will eat and drink too much. I chalk that all up to the reason why I am drawing a blank on this prompt. I suppose if I could get one day in anyone's life, I'd like to walk in my daughter's shoes. I think I'd like to see the world as she sees it, with her unique perspective. She and I are very different people, she is more introverted and shy. She is much more reserved than I. I think it would be wonderfully insightful to tag along on her day, watch her interact with her friends and teachers and observe how she is outside the realm of my influence. Is she more outgoing? Does she act silly with her friends like she does when it is just us two? Does she sing along to her tunes louder when no one is listening? Yeah, that would be neat I think and I believe I'd learn a bit more about her. I worry, as many mothers do, that her shyness keeps her from fully enjoying things, that she holds herself back from experiences that would otherwise be fun and enriching. It would give me some peace of mind to know what she is able to let go a bit more than she lets on to me.

This is a "fly on the wall" and not a "Freaky Friday" type exchange though, that is an important distinction. I would never want to be 9 again, not for a day or a minute. That was a difficult age, that "not quite a tween but still no longer a child" blend of awkwardness I remember all too well!

If I could survey her day, presiding over her like a low-flying drone, I think it would be pretty neat.

If not my daughter, then maybe...Trump? I don't think I could imagine a more entertaining 24 hours....watching him, and those around him, react to his own, special, orange-tinted brand of cray-cray. *Laugh* Or maybe it would not be funny...maybe it would leave me feeling devoid of hope for humanity. So...maybe not Trump after all.

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