Grown-ups and other various sundry of thoughts...

"Grown-ups love figures. When you tell them that you have made a new friend, they never ask you any questions about essential matters. They never say to you, "What does his voice sound like? What games does he love best? Does he collect butterflies?" Instead, they demand: "How old is he? How many brothers has he? How much does he weigh? How much money does his father make?" Only from these figures do they think they have learned anything about him."

~Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince, 1943, translated from French


I want to be a grown up without being so grownuppish.

I fear, however, that my hands have forgotten the feel of bark against their palms and my feet have forgotten the way mud feels between their toes and my head has forgotten the way grass feels against my hair.

My piano looks like it has missing teeth. My 3 year old step-son, Joshua, broke a few of the piano keys tonight by banging on it with our dog, Gracie's, bone. I almost lost it right there. But I did a very grown-up thing and gently picked him up and told him to never do that again. Caleb, my other step-son, had already broken a couple of the black keys a while back, and so now my poor piano looks absolutely wretched. I never had to deal with this with Phoenix. He's grown up, from in utero till now, knowing, without me having to tell him, just how important my piano is to me.

It's a hard thing not having a safe place to play.

Now I can't play it at all. Well, I can, but "key" keys are broken and it's a bit like having your heart beat but skipping every few beats. It's weird and feels funny. There are holes in the colours in my head that I notice aren't THERE.

I am tired of feeling like I'm all crinkly and crackly. Brittle. With a double chin.

Damn double chin. Of all of the things my mother could have given me genetically did she give me her teeth? Her smile? Her hair? Her narrow waist? No, these things my sister, Erin, recieved. With the exception of her red hair. No, I recieved the Brett family double chin, her temper, the line between the eyebrows from when I furrow it, her choleric nature and thick calf muscles.

It's 12:38am and I am off to bed where my husband has already been for the past hour. Being responsbily grown-up and going to bed at a decent hour. Good for him.

Cutie pie.

I suppose I shall try to get some sleep, too.

P.S. If you read this blog, I'd love to know who you are. I've got a little "Follower" thingy over there ------> somewhere. Would you be so kind as to utilize that? That way I then can read YOUR blog, too! MUAHAHAHAHAHA.