winkgirl4's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- When I Grow Up I'm sitting here and it's completely quiet. The kids are at Raymonds and I have an entire week to clean, reflect and to prepare for, both, the estate sale and the Hold'Em Tournament we'll be holding next Saturday. I had a week, alone, with Jordan- this past week and I don't think I realized how much I needed it. I knew how much I wanted it but, now that she's gone, I find her absense deafening. My (very-soon-to-be) six-year-old surprises me in so many ways that I found myself having to walk out of the room to collect my thoughts more often than I would like to admit. First, let me say that Justin and I have a way of communicating. Even at eight, he ponders- he analyzes. He takes his time to formulate his questions and after he and I discuss (as honestly as possible) the topic, he will go off and decide where he stands- what his point of view is. Jordan is so different. Jordan is very direct. My first evidence of this was while cleaning the house the other day. It was two, maybe three, in the afternoon and the tv was turned to some random channel and some rather uninteresting movie was playing. Jordan was in the front room playing with her teddy bear and talking to me while I was tidying an area near her. I had left the room for only a brief moment to return some inconsequential thing to it's rightful place and returned to the distinctive sounds of sex music playing on tv. You know the music. It's the backdrop for every cheesy love scene ever played on B flicks. And you don't need to hear the moaning or the sighing to know, someone is getting their groove on. I glance over at Jordan to see if she was paying attention to the screen and found myself relieved that her attention was still on placing her teddy bear in it's teddy bear sized rocking chair and moving the teddy bear's tea cups around on the table. The music ended and I went about cleaning, believing that we'd just escaped an uncomfortable situation. Mistakenly believing, I should have said because not two minutes later, while still moving her teddy bear around it's teddy bear world, she says, matter-of-factly, "Those people on tv were having sex. That's gross." Yeah, that's right. My head snapped in her direction so quickly that I can still feel the ache of it, today. My daughter just said the word "sex." Not only that, but she knew what it was. I am not sure but I think I said "Yep." and walked out of the room. My daughter knew what sex was. Justin and I haven't discussed sex. Not really. He's only eight. He's got plenty of time. He doesn't need to know what that is. He's still a baby. And Jordan. She. She. I. What can you really say except, "Yep" and walk out of the room? So, anyway. Yesterday, a friend and I were talking about relationships. We talked about his two failed marriages and the hope that moving in with his sister- and subsequently closer to his girlfriend might be just what he needs. We talked of my failed marriage and what it would take for me to, one day, have the kind of relationship that I would truly like to have. When out of the bedroom comes Jordan. She walks between David and I and asks, point blank: "Did you leave Daddy for Christian?" Uh, wow. In fact those three letters don't constitute a word strong enough to express how taken aback I was to hear that question. But I'll say it again. WOW. I gathered myself and told her that I did not leave her Daddy for Christian. I told her that when her Daddy and I were together, we didn't act like grown-ups - we acted like children. I told her that we are better at being grown-ups when we weren't together and it was very important that we be grown-ups for her and Justin's sake. She asked me whether or not I stilled loved her Daddy and, of course, I told her that I did- because I do- but that didn't mean that we could get back together. Then, before I could excuse myself to another room to do some "emergency" thing she asked, "Do you love your friend, Christian?" Youch. See, these are the things that Justin doesn't ask me. He just makes little comments when I'm tucking him into bed about how he wished that we were all in the same house, again, because he misses having his dad tuck him in, too. Do I love my friend, Christian? (And again I say, wow.) "Yes. I love him very much," I say, hoping that I don't have to offer too much information. She might actually ask a question I don't have an answer to. "Do you guys act like grown-ups together?" (See, let me break in to say that this is an important moment for me- this conversation with my daughter. So many things are going on at this very moment that I honestly want to cry. My daughter, with the lisp that gives everything that she says an even-more-childish tone, is being brave and strong. She's confronting me. She isn't masking her curiosity in round-about terms. She wants to know something and she wants a direct answer. And I have one of my first opportunities to have a real conversation with her. If you don't have children, it's hard to explain what that moment feels like. For all these years you tell them bedtime stories and they ask you why the moon follows us when we drive or if you could eat the clouds if you flew high enough to reach them. And you give them simple, but informative, answers. It's a coddled honesty. Until the day comes when they demand something else. When they want you to talk to them. It's a moment when your relationship with your child changes and I felt it.) At six, she's certainly not an adult but she was standing there, needing understanding. So I told her. "I have never been more an adult with any other person than I had been with Christian and that's why I love him so much." I told her that we used to make decisions together, and that's what good grown-ups do- they work together. She also wanted to know if Shannon and I were grown ups together and, what else could I say other than, we are great friends and that we have a lot of fun together but that Shannon doesn't want to be a grown up. Not yet. Interestingly enough, that's all she needed. She needed to know where I stood- and where she stood, I guess. She asked if I would take her to see Christian sometime and I told her that we would have to see about that but that I would certainly tell him that she asked about him. And she went back to the bedroom to play with her dolls. David looked at me and gave that uncomfortable smile that parents give to one another when they don't really know what to say, but said, anyway, "From the mouths of babes." I gave a weak laugh but kept to myself the realization that a part of my "baby" had left that room forever. And I sit here, now, in this silence, WANTING to be a grown up- for her. 12:23 p.m. - May 31, 2004 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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