Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Rowan's Two Mommies

I help out on Tuesday afternoons at my daughter's school. I do 'kidwriting' with them, helping first graders figure out how to spell 'Legos Star Wars', 'Pillow Pets', 'play date' and whatever else they want to write about in their journals. I do this because I feel guilty about all the school activities I will inevitably miss (I'm looking at you, Oktoberfest and Talent Show Gala).

Today I was surprised to learn that everyone has two mommies. One of Ro's classmates revealed this startling news as she was getting me to help her spell 'christmas'. "Everyone's got two mommies. They've got their own mommies and they've got Mary." I looked at little Mary P, who was coloring on the rug. She's very cute and maybe has unknown depths of mommy-ness. "Not that Mary. Mary. Upstairs Mary," she says, pointing up. I swear to you it was not for comedic effect when I looked up at the ceiling wondering what the heck the daft child was on about.

Then the religious penny dropped.

When I told my mom in law this story tonight over pizza and wine she laughed. Especially when I told her that I went on to explain to the whole table of tots that not everyone believed in Christ, that there were lots of different people in the world who believed lots of things. Many blank faces provoked me into mentioning Hanukkah, driedels and, I might have mentioned Hinduism, not sure. "What's a Jew?" asked one little boy.

Where the hell am I living?

Monday, November 29, 2010

Will Write for Botox

My mother pulled out her mash-up Deepak Chopra when I told her I was really, seriously (for reals now) a writer. She mentioned, in order of no importance, following your dreams, being true to yourself and how Mrs. Garluski (psychic, Basking Ridge, NJ) told her I'd be a writer one day. Mom may have also mentioned past lives and the karmic wheel, not sure as I'd glazed over by then.

But what she didn't ask was, why do you want to be a writer? Sometimes I think if I sell something, making just enough for a years supply of botox, well then, that's success. I've never had botox but I think about it. Am I a botox type person? The late thirties are an absolute bitch on my face.

I think I write because I don't actually believe I can be a writer and I'm trying to prove myself wrong. That's the twisty way I work, a double, triple fake out. Yes, someone married me, miracle.

So, why do you write?
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