Velveteen Mom

Sixteen.
Today –to be accurate, around 3 or so this afternoon – my Girl turns sixteen years old.

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Holy shit, y’all.

I won’t ask where the time went, because I know exactly where it went. It piled up like clouds in the Texas sky, an upended cerulean bowl marking the hours with streamers and cotton floss, golden pink sunrises and amber purple sunsets, lowering thunderheads and forgiving rains.

IMG_0230 IMG_0520 IMG_0536It’s been wild.

I can <mostly> remember the day she was born. I remember being in the labor tub. I can remember that I was done with the labor tub and getting out. I vaguely recall the slightly panicked faces of the midwife and the now-ex husband as I heaved my huge body out of the water.

I will never forget the feeling of waddle-walking to the bed, and the feeling that I needed to hurry hurry hurry because she was totally going to fall out1. I wanted to be in the comfy, king –sized bed to have her. It seemed important. I have NO idea why.

Labor-transition brains are weird.

Being a parent is hard. You raise and care for and instruct and bargain with the gods and nudge and bribe and hold hands and shelter and then comes the part where you are supposed to just let them go. Like, “O HAI U R AN ADULT NAO” and what do you mean you want a part time job and how can you even think that getting driving lessons is going to happen and don’t you know that you are my baby?

But, she isn’t. Not really, anymore.
She is becoming a young woman, becoming her semi-fixed2 personality, becoming her own self.

She is becoming.
So am I.

Quote-from-Velveteen-Rabbit1

I think…I think that this is how it works.

.

1– SPOILER ALERT: she didn’t and there was literally no way for her to do so. But, that feeling – physical and mental – persisted. And so I waddled as fast as I could to get to the bed.

2– Yeah, no-one’s personality is perma-fixed.

My Comment to an FB post

FRIEND: Mind blown:

“Take off, nuke the site from orbit…it’s the only way to be sure.”

Many people say this, without realizing that this plan DIDN’T FUCKING WORK.

...where is this in the milestones? 'cause I don't see it.
…where is this in the milestones? ’cause I don’t see it.

Mild QA rant…

Because there wan’t a process in place. If you don’t have a workflow then shit happens randomly and WE are not to fucking blame for your fucking Xenomorph Queens laying waste (and clutches) where YOU didn’t think a process wasn’t important.

*huff huff puff huff*

And if you say documentation isn’t important, I’ll ram Carter Burke‘s personal memos/notes/leads up your ass so far you’ll think you’re seeing a monolith and start chanting “It’s full of stars….”

Assholes.

If You Bake It, They Will Come

A little background: I use coconut oil for moisturizer. It doesn’t have a perfumey sort of scent and it works wondrous well.

That being said, most things tend to smell either like baby powder or vanilla on me. It is just the way my body chemistry works.

Source: Wiki Commons
Source: Wiki Commons

When I got home from work yesterday, I flopped down on the couch. Immediately, both my cat and my daughter came and flopped down on me.

I’m used to it.

The Girl was sprawled over my legs, talking about her day.

The Girl, in full affection sprawl
The Girl, in full affection sprawl

Suddenly, she sat up and looked straight at me.

The Girl: “Mom, you smell like baked goods.”
Me: “I don’t know why. I haven’t been around any today.”
TG: “Nonetheless, you smell like cake.”
Me: ….*pause*   Well, I guess I can tell you the secret. All Moms have the ability to smell like cupcakes. It’s how we control the children.
TG:     0_o

WUT?
WUT?

I am an evil, evil person.

Moo. Ha. Ha. Ha.