Playing Mom—weekend child sounds and moments…
I played mom this past weekend-- my goddaughter came to stay. So, this is what it’s like to be a mother…

FRIDAY NIGHT: Harry Connick, McDonald’s and a computer...

“Oh no! I can’t believe your wearing that!” My goddaughter exclaimed when I picked her up.

“What?” I asked.

“That Harry Connick Jr. shirt!” She said pointing at my t-shirt from the concert I had recently attended.

“What’s wrong with this?” I asked. Did I make a fashion mistake? I wondered.

“Are you going to torture me again ALL weekend with his music?” She asked.

I look at her and can’t believe what I’m hearing. “I finally went to his concert!” I told her. She had been with me the weekend I bought the tickets.

“I was at a pizza place in Paso Robles with my dad, and I almost fainted.” She continued.

“Why did you almost faint?” I asked.

“Because I saw one of his songs on the jukebox!” She exclaimed.

“Did you play the song?” I asked.

“No way!” She exclaimed.

I don’t think I’m going to turn her into a Harry Connick Jr. fan anytime soon. “I won’t torture you.” I said.

“You promise?” She asked, then added… “You will, I know you will.”

“It will be hard not to… but I promise, I won’t torture you with Harry music.”

DID I MENTION SHE’S ONLY 9 YEARS OLD!

“What are we going to do this weekend?” She asked.

“We’re going to do your report for school.” I replied.

“Can we go to the dollar store?” She asked.

“If we get your homework done.” I said.

“Are we going to do anything else?” She asked.

“We might go to the hockey game tomorrow night. And then your brother’s birthday party is Sunday afternoon.” I said.

“What do you want for dinner?” I asked.

“McDonald’s.” She stated.

“How about this place or that place?” I asked hopingly.

“I only like McDonald’s” She says.

Off to McDonald’s we go… cheeseburger happy meal with a toy that doesn’t do much. The play area is too crowded-- she’s disappointed.

“Hey, you know that movie ‘Miracle on 34th Street’?” She asks as we drive past Memorial Hospital.

“I was a miracle baby and I was born on 34th Street!”

“Yes, you were!” I say. Her and her mother both almost died in childbirth.

“There’s a girl in my class who doesn’t know what a ‘premie’ is!” She exclaims as if she can’t believe it.

I look up websites on California Missions for her report for school. We listen to Jewel, because she likes Jewel and I promised not to torture her with Harry. I chat with friends on the computer while she plays ‘store’ with my adding machine.

“Remember when we went to the Jewel concert?” She asks. I took her to the Jewel concert at the Fox Theater in Bakersfield.

“Yes, that was fun.” I say.

“My mom was sad she couldn’t go, she likes Jewel too.” She said.

“I wish your mom could have went too.” I say.

“Who are you talking to now?” She asks pointing at the computer while handing me a receipt for $9,000,000 that she made on the adding machine.

“I’m talking with my cousin G****, D****, and N***.” I tell her.

“Who’s D****?” She asks.

“A friend.” I say.

“Tell N*** hi from me!” She exclaims smiling. She likes him.

“I will. He knows you’re here.” I explain.

“How does he know I’m here?” She asks.

“He knows everything.” I tell her and smile.

She smiles and goes back to ringing up my make-believe purchases on the adding machine.

“I’ll save these websites so we can do your report tomorrow.” I state.

“Ok. Can I get on the computer now?” She asks.

“Yes, let me say goodbye to my friends.” I tell her.

I say goodbye to G**** and D**** and tell N*** she’s getting on the computer. She likes to chat with him.

“Ok. The computer is all yours.” I tell her.

She gets on the computer and goes to two websites: Barbie.com and Myscene.com and plays dress-up and other games. She entertains herself on the computer and I watch TV.

“What’s N***’s email address?” She yells out to me.

I tell her his email address wondering what she’s going to send him.

“N*** says goodnight.” She yells to me.

“Tell him goodnight from me.” I yell back to her.

Foot pushing in my side, arm flung across my face. She sleeps next to me in my big bed smelling of sweetness, child sweat and lingering baby smells… and I am in heaven.

SATURDAY MORNING: Showers, cereal and a school report to write...

“Did you brush your teeth?” I asked.

“Yes.” She says.

“Hold still while I fix your hair.” I say as she’s wiggling all around.

“Do you want cereal?” I ask.

“What kind do you have?” She asks.

“Lucky Charms or Lucky Charms.” I state.

“Ok.”

“Let’s get to your homework so we can get it done.” I say after she finishes her cereal.

We read information on Mission San Miguel, look at websites, and begin to write her report. She does most of it herself. She asks me questions, and I only help her with one or two sentences.

“Do you know what that word means?” I ask while helping her write a sentence. “I mean is that a word you would normally use or will your teacher know someone helped you?”

“Well she knows I’m really smart!” She states matter-of-factly.

“Oh, ok.” I say amazed.

“I made the honor-roll!” She says proudly.

In between sentences she runs off to play store again on the adding machine, or to play I dropped my dolly in the dirt and Twinkle twinkle little star on my piano. Songs I’ve taught her. She writes me notes and leaves them on my refrigerator.

“Come look at the refrigerator.” She says.

“I will.” I tell her. “Come back, we have more to do on your report.”

We spend three hours this way. Writing sentences, reading, drawing mission layouts-- playing store and piano, until finally we are on the last questionnaire and she’s becoming frustrated.

“Why is my teacher making me do all of this?!” She wails.

“Let’s take a break and get something to eat, we can finish it later.” I say. Seeing her attention span is on its last leg.

“No! I want to get this done, so I don’t have to do it anymore.” She exclaims.

“Ok, then let’s focus and finish.” I say.

“Can we go to the dollar store now?” She asks finally done with her homework.

Off to the dollar store we go. She buys a gift for her brother’s birthday and a ball for herself that she spends the rest of the afternoon bouncing it in the house and playing basketball with in my drive way.

SATURDAY NIGHT: Hockey game, snacks in my purse, Beastie Boys and a magazine...

“Who’s playing?” She asks.

“Bakersfield Condors and San Diego Gulls.” I tell her.

A Beastie Boys song plays during a time-out. “I know who this is! It’s the Beastie Boys!” She exclaims and starts to sing along with the song.

I think it’s just wrong that a 9 year old knows Beastie Boy songs! She sits next to me reading a magazine she brought with her munching on cheetos while I watch the game. She stands when we stand and sits when we sit. She’s halfway bored. She’s a Stealers fan after all, not a hockey fan. At intermission we go to the snack bar.

“What do you want to eat?” I ask her.

“A soda and licorice. I’m really thirsty.” She says.

“You don’t want any food-food, a hamburger or hotdog.” I ask.

“I don’t like hotdogs.” She says.

“Nachos? Pizza? Fries?” I ask hoping to get her to eat more than licorice.

She shakes her head no. And then when it’s our turn to order she changes her mind.

“I want nachos too!” She states.

I get her $5.00 nachos that she eats very little of. The Condors won, but I don’t think she even noticed.

Covers thrown off, she’s hot. Cartoon network on the TV. She sleeps…

SUNDAY MORNING: Pancakes, a failed hair-do, basketball and a computer...

I wake up before she does and chat with N*** on the computer. I go to wake her up-- she looks at me, flops over and buries herself under the covers.

“I want on the computer.” She says sleepily.

“Ok.” I say.

“N*** said to tell you that you sent him a lovely Barbie figure-skating show.” So… that’s what she emailed him!

She smiles and gets on the computer and goes to Myscene.com and plays dress-up again.

“This is you and my mom.” She tells me. As I look at a blonde and a brunette getting dressed to go out.

“Print it out for me.” I tell her.

I make us pancakes. She eats them the way I do with peanut butter and syrup. She plays on the computer and I clean up the kitchen.

“Hold still.” I say while fixing her hair really cute with twisty rolls in the front. Her mom doesn’t like her wearing pony tales all the time.

“I don’t like my hair down. It looks ugly.” She says squirming.

“It does not. You have pretty hair!” I exclaim.

In the end… we took out the twisty rolls and put her hair up in a pony tale. She played basketball in the driveway until time to go to her brother’s birthday party.

I found two notes on my refrigerator from her when I got home. They said: “M****** is the best, love D*****.” And “I love you M******. D*****.” My heart melted. This is what its like to have a daughter! I miss her already…  posted by Matildakay at 1:34 AM