Today marks 30 days in Kittery. Overall, I love it, but I’m a little lonely – so I’ve spent some time (read: way. too. much. time.) watching youtube videos of late 70’s/early 80’s easy listening music. I think this must be what my mom listened to when I was running around at her feet because when I hear it, it makes me so happy.
So here’s the big news: I’ve taught myself to play this on the piano.
I mean – the opening part? That has like 5 notes? That likely anyone on the planet could play? *BUT* – it would be fun if you came over and I pulled out the piano bench and my hands floated across the keys in a late 70’s easy listening kind of way, right? I know.
While I am a little lonely – Anna, is fantastic. She loves school, is making friends, and loves the afterschool program so much that when I told her she didn’t have to go on Fridays, she got a little bummed and asked if she could. It’s like – the best possible transition to a new school ever. I keep waiting for her to come home in all leather, covered in makeup and new tattoos with her new boyfriend who’s packing, but alas – she’s still holding my hand while walking through Target and waking me up by jumping on top of me and kissing me so hard it hurts in the morning.
Side note: I love all make up and leather and tattoos and boyfriends. It’s just that she’s 9.
Additional side note: When I was 16, having recently moved, I decided to bleach my hair blond one night while I was out and not tell my parents. When my father came in my room the next morning to wake me up for work, he thought someone else was sleeping in my bed.
Post script to additional side note: Sorry, Dad.
The only thing that really seems to be bothering Anna is my existence as a MOM. When I told her I was super excited that I got to go on her school field trip, and asked if she was excited (it was a rhetorical question of course, clearly meant as a self-esteem boosting tactic. For me.) she said, “Yah, I mean just don’t do anything MOMMISH okay?”
I was told later not to drop a MOM BOMB in addition to not being MOMMISH. I mean, it’s not like I’m going to try to be MOMMISH. I’m still reeling from a comment a coworker made about another coworker years ago:
“I mean if you didn’t know if she was a mom before, you know it now because that is a MOM HAIRCUT.”
She’s also stared saying MOMS after everything I say – to some sort of fake teenage audience in our house. For instance, tonight I said “Hey Anna – no more milk, you can have water okay?” and she turned around – to the empty room behind her, rolling her eyes, and said loudly, ‘OH, MOMS.’ It’s about a once a day occurrence. I might retreat and allow her to call me Erin, because at least there’s only one of us so she can’t refer to us in a group, like ‘OH ERIN’S!’
Besides being Mommish, I’ve been spending time unpacking and moving things around and making this feel like home. All of the rest of my time is being spent at the dump getting rid of boxes – so much time that I’m pretty sure the guy that works there thinks I’ve developed a crush on him – and the last little chunk of time left has been spent attempting to figure out what the hell I’m going to do with this thing, which appeared last week after my own mother spent time with Anna: