I want to be like her when I grow up

I spent some time today with one of my favorite women in the whole world. Called and asked her if she wanted to go out shopping later (hey, it was Saturday, we didn't need to get up early or anything). Despite the rain and a bum knee, she was up for it. I brought my coupons (always!).

As we always do, we talked about everyone and everything on the way to the mall - relationships, my sisters, her daughters, our husbands. She is so wise and I really respect her opinions. She shared some pretty candid feelings about a certain relationship. Such a sweet woman - even when telling me, she was apologizing to me for telling me. I told her, "Hey, that's what friends are for. You need to have someone to talk to about some of these things. You can't just keep them inside." In fact, she's the one who taught me that it is perfectly acceptable to be upset - with limits - when something hurtful happens.

So we shopped. She shared her honest opinion on sizes and colors, did a little browsing of her own, and used the second coupon so I could get the sale price on 3 shirts instead of just two. (Thanks!!!). Met up with another friend, more shopping, more browsing, more laughing and chatting - then had to run to get some kids to their youth group activity on time.

When I took her home, she got comfy while I poured her a drink and she rested that knee. Talk with her is always so much fun - went from how to decorate our kitchens on through to the scariest moments in our lives. Losing our kids for 15 minutes in a mall was tops for both of us, even having lived through at least one major earthquake and the L.A. riots. There is something about being a mom that changes your view of "important."

Later in the evening we met up again at the local Japanese place to listen to my cousin's amazing husband create some magic on the guitar. Sushi, tempura, music, laughter, stories... I think we got shushed a few times and she nearly fell out of her chair at a few of the things my sister and I said. You just can't get us out in public anywhere without one of us bursting out laughing. As she always does she was lovely with those around us and made new friends (takes after her dad that way).

After she went home early I started musing on our relationship - we have grown and changed in the last few decades. I am honored to be able to call her friend and that she will confide in me.

I pray that I will be able to be that kind of mother and friend to my own daughters.

Thank you, Mom!

Enjoying the lasts

The amazing preschooler has been on a "cuddle me" kick, as in, "Mommy, I need someone to cuddle me." This might come when she is being an absolute pill, the world's sweetest daughter, or something in between (most of the time).

It is so easy to blow her off or find other things to focus on. Come on, kid, I am Working. I am Cleaning. I am Failing in My Attempt to be a Superwoman. Hear me ROAR.

A few days ago she was on timeout for some infraction already forgotten and she felt it necessary to state the obvious. "Mommy, you are being mean. You. Are. A. Mean. Mommy." and then the final blow. "I wish you were a Nice Mommy." (oh honey, so do I!!!)

When timeout was over, I set aside the work laptop and called her over to sit on my lap for some much needed cuddle time. Sweet moments made even sweeter when she fell asleep on my lap and forced me to cuddle her for over an hour. Forced?? How could I even think that was the right verb?

I was reminded of something I read somewhere (help me out here) that named parenting as not just a list of "Firsts" (like those in the baby book), but is also a series of "Lasts" that are so often forgotten or that go unnoticed because we really don't know when it really is the last time. The last time you tied your child's shoes. The last time she ran to your bed in the middle of the night and wedged herself between you and your spouse and kicked off the covers and you had a terrible night's sleep but oh, it does happen a last time. I know it. The last diaper changed (hooray! why don't we have a party for that, anyway?). The last time they needed you to help them do that grown up thing that... now they know how to do.

I sat and savored the warm heavy weight; whispered to her much older sister to please cover us both with a blanket. Sighed, breathed deeply the smell of her hair that is no longer that baby sweet smell but is not yet that pre-teen funk (admit it. You know that of which I speak). Rubbed the tiny back, ran my fingers over the soft little hands that no longer need me to help them form the letters in her name.

I hope it wasn't the last time she will fall asleep on my lap. But I am not taking it for granted.