Teen Mom?

I never really wanted to be a teen mom, but maybe it's too late.

Estherline, (our nine year old, in third grade) came home from school and, like everyday, she relayed her school day to me. This is a daily routine that I sometimes find myself subconsciously ignoring. She told me about who got in trouble for not completing their homework. I started to produce the robotic nods so that she knew I was listening. She repeated the jokes that the class clown used to interrupt the lesson. She told me what grade she received for her recitation of her history lesson. Then she shared about what the teacher talked about; mothers. Now, Estherline lives here with her three brothers and hasn't seen her biological mother for a while. I was suddenly intrigued, I wondered how Estherline participated in such a class conversation. I listened as she began her extended explanation of what was said. 

Estherline

"The teacher had us stand up in front of the class, one-by-one and talk about our mothers. We had to tell what they do for us, what they buy for us, how they take care of us."

     
As she said this, I thought, "What in the world did this girl say to the class?!" 

She continued, "I told them my mom's name is Cecilia."

My heart stopped...

"She takes care of me and helps me when I need help."

I didn't know how to respond...

I looked at her with a blank look on my face, let out a nervous laugh and said, "Ok...What. Else. happened today?"

Later on, I told my dad what she shared with me. He explained that the concept of "mother" is slightly different than what we would normally think. "Mother" is the one who takes care of you everyday.  

If Estherline looks to me as her mother I'm going to do my best to "take care of her everyday", thus making me a teen mom. 

Pancakes

Ever since I was a child whenever my father made pancakes for breakfast, which was every once in a while, he'd make a personalized pancake with the first initial of our names. "E" for my brother, Elijah. and a "C" for Cecilia. This was tradition. This was the way pancakes were done in the Sweeney household.

This morning my dad made pancakes. He made Elijah's stack first. My mom put the plate in front of my brother. There is was a beautifully golden "E" on top of a pile of round, warm pancakes. Elijah asked me for a cup of water so I stood, located a cup and filled it up. By the time I sat again my plate was on the table. I saw what looked like the letter "L" and another pancake that were in the shape of eyeglasses or the letter "B". I sat there for a minute and just looked at it trying to figure out what it meant. I picked up my fork, still dumbstruck. 

Then, it hit me. 

The "L" was a 1.

 The "B", an 8. 

18!

I started to laugh! 

"Thanks!" I said, as I flooded my pancakes with syrup. 

Confessions of An 18 Year Old

Since today is my 18th birthday, the day I official can say "I am an adult", I'd thought I'd publish a confession for my parents entertainment and all those who read my blog.

When I was about 9 years old, my father bought these modern eyeglasses. They were the kind that you could bend every which way and they would never break. He had them for about a month or so, when, one day, he asked me to wash them for him. This would be my first time handling these super, special, new glasses. My immature and innocent 9 year old mind couldn't fully grasp the fact that these glasses were, in no way, breakable. It was unbelievable! I thought it was phenomenal, innovative and almost scifi.

So, as the water was running out of the faucet I decided to BEND the glasses in odd directions that, if these glasses were normal, would cause them to fall apart.

I bent,

twisted

and folded.

You can imagine my surprise when I found out that these space age glasses really could break. As I glared in complete disappointment at the fallen piece in the sink I thought, "What am I going to tell Dad?!" I suddenly dropped the eyeglasses in the sink, breathed in a few times and took the pieces to my father.

"what happened?" he asked.

"I dunno..."

"what happened?" he asked again.

"I dropped them, in the sink."

He never bought the bendy glasses again because he thought they didn't live up to their name and I never informed him that it was me who broke his glasses and not the sink.

Maybe I should buy my Dad a pair of bendy glasses for Christmas this year!