I was part of a movement of "dinosaur moms" when I lived in Maryland (Astrodon Johnstoni is the Maryland state dinosaur.) Which is nothing more than this -- dinosaur moms delight in the half-feral nature of the beasties they parent, even as they whisper Shakespeare and Kierkegaard in their ears at night.
You're the pirate everyone else wants to throw in the ocean -- not to get rid of you, you understand; just to get rid of the smell. You can be a little bit unpredictable, but a pirate's life is far from full of certainties, so that fits in pretty well. Arr!
Tonight, our church held an "Oscar Night." Among more sophisticated numbers, the choir did "Time Warp." A member had won the right to this command performance at the church's auction. I wanted him to get his money's worth, so I tried to rally the troops a little. And so, as always happens, I was volunteered for the lead. Volunteered, which is to say, everyone else took a step back and I was standing there. Which occasioned my buying fishnet thigh-highs at our local sex shop "for church." A great recruitment tool, that.
Girl stayed behind to help us clean up. Driving back home, I imagined other mothers recapping the night's experience for their daughters. I imagined that some of them were telling their daughters how pretty they were, how poised, how accomplished. And I told her, in my life, it is quite possible I have never been the most polished person in the room, the best dressed. I'm not saying I haven't had my moments, but I'm not beautiful. I'm not saying I don't have pipes, but I'm no musician. I'm not saying I'm not clever, but I don't have a well-honed intellect.
But what I have been, what I will own, and what I hope to pass on to her, is I have been game. Our people -- our family -- I think that's what we are. We're game.
I was part of a movement of "dinosaur moms" when I lived in Maryland (Astrodon Johnstoni is the Maryland state dinosaur.) Which is nothing more than this -- dinosaur moms delight in the half-feral nature of the beasties they parent, even as they whisper Shakespeare and Kierkegaard in their ears at night.
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