NPR called.

I have just always wanted to say something like that. As if they had my personal number and just picked up the phone to chit-chat over some Fair Trade vanilla coffee and a chocolate chip biscotti and tell me that they wanted to interview me.

It doesn’t really happen that way, but you get the gist.

There’s an interview here with Michel Martin (fast-talking, full of wit) on her show “Tell Me More“. Also included are Christine Koh of Boston Mamas, Catherine Sabonis-Bradley of This Matters This Day, and Jamila Bey of The Washington Examiner, discussing the business of blogging and integrity and marketing and product reviews and writing and social media and world peace and how to get your children to eat their vegetables and hair issues. So that was a bit of an exaggeration, but you’ll just have to listen to hear it all.

In other news, I am struggling with my SHORT curly hair. My diffuser just broke (yes, TODAY, when I haven’t used the damn thing in forever and now that I need it? Broken.) and there are about 12 different hair products and for some reason the back of my hair is curling differently than the front and YES, I’M TAKING TIME OUT OF MY NPR-INSPIRED MOMENT TO COMPLAIN ABOUT HOW I CAN’T DO MY OWN DAMN HAIR.

Go have a biscotti and listen to the other rational, knows-how-to-do-their-hair women. I’ll just sit here fussing with my hair.

I’ve just not been able to write as openly over the last two years and for that I’m sad. Not that I haven’t written at all, because I have. But I haven’t been able to share it in an open forum like this here humble little blog. But you know how it is. You start to write some things and share some personal stuff and people respond and say things like, “Thank you for writing that and being honest and saying what I haven’t been able to say” or sometimes they say, “Well, that was a load of shite” because they’re all British and shite and spell shit with an extra “e” and then you wonder how it is that people in England are reading you and then you go, “Holy crackerjack, Batman! I’m the shite because of the foreign readers on my blog!” and then, of course, you stop that crazy thought because you know that shit is spelled without an extra “e”. Am I righte?

In any case, I have to say a thousand thanks to my readers. Because you have understood and silently encouraged and written lovely emails meant to cheer me up for dealing with a broken marriage and a newfound previously-placed-for-adoption daughter and two new promotions at work that made blogging super difficult and moving into a new house and losing my grandmother and still trying VERY hard to be positive and honest in this writing space. I’ve not always wanted this to be the journal that it’s slowly becoming but I’ve learned that I don’t want to be in that club of greedy bloggers and wannabes and drama queens.

All that was to say thank you for understanding when I can’t write it all down. When I have to keep personal things personal and not puke out feelings that I have to sort through here. Thank you for sticking around and making me still love this place. A place where I can’t do certain things. All the things I cannot say. All the words that won’t come out right and will be misunderstood or used against me. All the general bullshit about how hard my job is to write about except in a generic sense to protect the people I work with and the students I service and the families I come in contact with.

Really. I mean it. Thank you.

My mother saves everything.

For instance, when I moved to my own place and had nothing but my clothes and nothing for a kitchen she gave me an antique clay bowl that I have pined for since I was little. When I was in college she asked us girls to tell her what we’d want to have of hers someday and I only listed that.

“You know that bowl you used to make chocolate chip cookies in when we were young? I want that.”

“What else?

“Nothing. Just the bowl. I will dub it The Cookie Bowl.”

Thankfully, she didn’t wait too much longer and gave it to me when I whined about not having anything, not even dishes to eat off of nor a table at which to sit.

This story isn’t about The Cookie Bowl.

When I was 29 my mom lived far away and I was in full-swing of being a mom of young children and working and missing out on the opportunity to glean wisdom from her on a daily basis. We are making up for that right now. I didn’t realize how much she’s been rubbing off on me until a friend pointed out that I quote my mother a lot. Some of her wise old sage sayings are a part of my vernacular. “If you bend over backwards for people, Kelly, eventually you will lose your balance” is probably my favorite and one that actually came out of my mouth today. Even when I uttered those words to a co-worker I knew that I was also saying them for myself because I am emotionally spent on a student lately. It’s not that I’m doing too much for her but that I feel entirely inadequate in supporting her and meeting all the demanding needs I see in her. Truthfully, she’s not doing the demanding. I see a need and so badly want to fill it.

I’m trying to watch over her and I need to reflect on why that is.

At 29 when my mom lived far away she sent me an email that had been going around about children watching the things their parents do without the knowledge of their parents knowing they were being watched. She took it out the other day and showed it to me. As soon as I read it I asked if I could blog it. She, in her infinite wisdom, replied, “Yes, but I have full copyrights.”

Here it is:

Hi, Mom. I made up my own for you…

Your Child Is Watching…

When you though I wasn’t looking, I saw you take care of a friend with AIDS and watch him die and you taught me that caring for others is immeasurable in friendship.

When you thought I wasn’t looking I saw you cry when I had a baby, got married, made mistakes, make good choices and you taught me that crying is a happy response to not only failure, but to success.

When you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw you make my favorite food for me and smile when I closed my eyes and sighed, “uummmmm” because it’s important to serve others and the appreciation you get is from their satisfaction.

When you thought I wasn’t looking I heard you say that you were proud of me to your friends and your mother and I learned that you really like me as a person and not just your child.

When you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw you kiss daddy passionately and I learned to feel safe and secure as a little girl because my parents loved each other and I felt loved by that.

When you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw you give up a nice house and cars and struggle on your own when Daddy left and realized that you were a person and not just my mother.

When you thought I wasn’t looking, I felt you smooth my clothes and brush my hair with a huge smile on your face because you wanted to do it.

When you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw you take care of your grandchildren and you taught me the joy of being a mother again.

When you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw how you handled your hardships and you taught me that when life knocks you down you get back up again because you are strong enough.

When you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw tears come from your eyes and I learned that sometimes I hurt you and to be careful of your feelings because you are tender.

When you thought I wasn’t looking, I saw that you cared about my making good decisions and allowed me to make mistakes because that’s how we learn.

When you thought I wasn’t looking, I learned most of what I know about God and how He was there even when you weren’t looking.

My mother has given me tremendously more than that Cookie Bowl.