Mother's love...Izzy's new clothes...

We were talking about Grandmothers and the names by which they go.
Isobel: "Is Nana Linda your Nana?"
Daddy: "No, Nana Linda is my mother."
Isobel: "Who was your Nana then?"
Daddy: "My Nana's name was May."
Isobel: "What happened to her?"
Daddy: "She died."
Isobel: "Because she turned yellow, right?"
Daddy: "That's right."
Isobel: "Is that why you called her Nana-Banana?"




I have struggled this week, whether or not to write about this because things here have always been pretty light hearted but this column has always been about our lives and the truth. As incredible as many of these things have seemed, I pride myself on the fact that it is all real. To that end there are some things that have happened over the past week that have brought to light things that no one wishes to think about or discuss but should be given their due never the less. I beg your indulgence for a while while I exorcise a demon or two...

Mother is the name for god on the hearts and lips of all children. I don't know who wrote that line but it is completely brilliant and completely true. There isn't a child alive (and remember grown up or not we are all somebody's child) when in danger or injured or mad or feeling kind of blue, that doesn't at least entertain the idea of calling out for their mother.
Let's look at the facts Fathers are there for the obvious at the beginning and after that our role consists of driving children to and from anything and everything and grunting and growling about the house, taking of the children to movies and introducing the children to the joys of fast food and bodily functions and helping the children to get away with things right under the very noses of their Mothers. But Mothers are there for EVERYTHING else. They are comfort and protection and love and warmth and the list is endless. Even Denis Leary goes off on tangent after tangent about the strength and importance of the bond between his wife and their children, why? Because it is absolutely true. Think about it, when is the last time somebody in a war movie lay dying on a beach calling out for his father?
A few recent events have started me thinking about my children and their mother...I recently learned of the death of a friend. Although I had not spoken to her in many years, she was instrumental in setting me on the path that ultimately led me to the States and the Rock and Roll adventures therein. She was my age and she left behind two very young children and my heart is breaking for them and for their Father.
But her death has also mad me angry because it was the result of something stupid and something completely preventable. Something that stubbornness and distraction ultimately worsened until it was too late.
Mrs. Narrator was in the hospital this week. It was nothing serious, likely the result of a decidedly un-ergonomic work station but when I spoke to her on the phone it was tingling in the left arm and her heart doing 'odd' things. I suddenly thought of my friend and the children and husband she had left behind.
You can make will until you are blue in the face and I even know people who begin 'preparing' their children for the eventuality of their (the parents) death. But jesus, how do you go about telling you kids that their whole world will not be coming home...anymore?
My kids would miss me (I should bloody hope so) if I were to die suddenly but I don't honestly think it would have the same impact that losing their mother would. Mrs. Narrator can holler at the children and they will still pick her over me if they are in need of comfort, that kind of loyalty and love leaves a massive hole when it is taken from you. My Mother and I have had a tenuous relationship over the years and I am reminded every time I see her, that good or bad she is my Ma and though there were times I hated her I will be inconsolable when she is gone.
I don't want to stand on a soap box because I am the last person to ask for advice on how to NOT be a selfish prick but a few things have become clear to me recently. That once you have children, your life doesn't belong to you anymore. You give up the right to be ignorant and apathetic the second the nurse hands you a baby and calls you mom or dad. I want new bagpipes but the kids need new shoes...it doesn't take a genius... You owe it to your kids to do what you can to stick around, at least until they can fend for themselves and have children of their own. And then you spoil their children rotten and make allies of them the way your grandparents did with you. And even then, you never really stop needing your mother.




This week has seen some growing in the house. Specifically Izzy's image of herself. I am normally one to encourage personal growth and all things individual as far as my kids are concerned but I felt I needed to draw the line somewhere. Isobel has lately taken to wearing a bathing suit under her clothes, at least the top and calling it a bra. At first I was unconcerned with it but it became a regular thing that she insisted on wearing with every outfit. I mean I suppose I should get used to the idea of it. She is a normal girl and she is growing and she will eventually require a real brassiere which I will happily allow her mother to assist her in picking out but beyond that, I really don't need or want to know more.
However, this week she has told me that on two separate occasions she has shown little D her bra (just the strap so nothing bad) and today she strutted around the house in just the said bra chanting "Who wants to see my boobies? Who wants to see my boobies?"
"Good girls never give it away Izzy." I said.
"Never give what away?" she asked
"They never show their bras to people." I said.
"What about bad girls?" she asked.
"Only if they play guitar." I said.
"TWANG" was the sound that came out of the living room.