Kind: like you.

My friend Wendy and I occasionally encourage each other to write more. Last week we had one of those "we should write more" conversations. She sent me a blog post about journaling, and the next day, I happened to park next to a car that had a sign on the side of the door that said, "Why aren't you writing?" Of course I sent Wendy a picture.

I told Wendy I could commit to writing on Wednesdays since Wednesday starts with "W" and so does "Words"; therefore, "Words are for Wednesdays," which means I shall write. Ah, another "W." My computer says it's Wednesday even though I feel like it's Tuesday night, so here we are.

I've been thinking a lot lately about writing down how I describe my children to people who don't know them yet. I wonder if my current descriptions are going to be indicative of their future selves. We shall see. It's always interesting to find out how someone else describes you. In fact, little Miss Miriam surprised me recently with this little interaction:

Upon picking up Miriam from her kindergarten tutorial which she attends one day a week, she said, "Mom, my teacher was especially kind today. Most days she's kind of stern, but today, she was really kind. Like you." I was on the phone (with Wendy--I realize it seems like I'm in constant touch with this woman, but in reality, months can sneak by without communication, not unlike my blog . . . May??? I posted last in MAY? And it was a recipe. Wendy's right. I do need to write more. I digress . . . ) Because I was on the phone and needed to get through the pick-up line quickly, I thought she said, "UNlike you." I didn't say anything. I just wondered. Later on, she told me about how kind her teacher had been that day--again--but this time, there was no doubt. "Like you."

I could have hugged her and kissed her and cried and turned into a big wet sloppy puddle. But I didn't. I just smiled and said, "Thank you," in my sweetest voice and thought, "Is that really how she sees me? Really?" Now, I personally know Miriam's teacher, and she happens to be one of the sweetest women I've ever met. And yet, Miriam says she's "kind" . . . "like me." I think I need to let that one sink in: deep.

Granted, sometimes I'm fun (I do love theater and acting and dancing and being silly), but I can be pretty stern. I can be downright mean and scary. But Miriam sees me as kind. Even more so than her super sweet, lovely, one-day-a-week teacher. If I let myself, I could start crying even now.


OK, I have to mention one more Miriam story. (By the way, this photo of her was taken just a few hours ago at Olivia's Good News Cafe in Cool Springs. She's very intentionally eating a fruit crepe drizzled with dark chocolate. She just looked so . . . sweet--like Miriam--that I had to take a picture. She asked me later if that's what I was doing. She simply pretended not to notice. I love that girl.)

I had a few things I needed to return to the mall, so Miriam and I made a quick stop on our way home tonight.We passed by the mannequins at Charlotte Russe, which are particularly costumey right now and somewhat risqué and Miriam says, "Mom, I know you would NEVER dress like that." Then she pauses and says, matter-of-factly, "Well, maybe for a play." I had to laugh. Just last year I was in a play and dressed very similarly . . .