Enquiring Minds

We are full-on in the phase of “Why”.  For the most part, Dave and I are amused by all the questions.  But the inquiring mind of our three-year-old makes us realize how little we actually know about anything.  Everything.  So we’ve had our fair share of Humble Pie.

In the span of twenty minutes (the time it takes to drive from my dad’s house to our house), I came up with what I thought were pretty decent answers to the following:  “Why do people build flags?”  “What if there was no Earth?”  “Why do people need tongues?”  “Why is a dead end ‘dead’?”  “Why does the moon follow us home?”  The problem is that to a three-year-old, each answer just raises more questions.  My “pretty decent” answers produced mostly silence and a subsequent “why?” from her (the ultimate nah-nah-na-boo-boo).  So after considering the answer, choosing appropriate language to use so that she will understand yet also be challenged and introduced to new and useful vocabulary, and presenting my reply in a way that will not freak her out (my “what if there was no Earth” answer somehow found me discussing how the Earth was the perfect distance from the Sun so as to be warm enough to sustain life but cool enough not to turn us into giant balls of flame, and at that point I wondered if I had gone too far), what I get in return is basically a “you really sucked at explaining that to me” wrapped up in “but WHY?” 

A few times I’ve gotten to the point where I really have no more to say about a given subject.  I’ve exhausted my knowledge on the matter, and so my final answer is “because that’s just the way it is.”  Sometimes after receiving that answer, Ellen actually erupts into tears and says “but I KNOW there’s more ‘bout that.  Can’t you tell me some more?”  (To wit: “Why is the snow white?” and “Why do people have ten fingers?”)          

I suppose there’s no hope that Cecilia will ask the same questions when she turns three, so I could have about two years to ruminate…or at least do a really comprehensive internet search.  Oh well. 

Beginning. Again.

I used to be “obsessed” with journaling. 

Some of you who knew me in high school might remember this.  I think “obsessed” is the only word that fits – “avid” or “enthusiastic” are just insults to fifteen notebook pages (front and back) per day.  One could say that I was “obsessed” with a lot of things – Simon and Garfunkel is another great example.  That one in particular inspired me to print all the lyrics to “Bookends” on the cover of each of the twenty (or so) 3-subject notebooks which comprise the epic-length tale of my high school daze.  “Time it was, and what a time it was – a time of innocence, a time of confidences.  Long ago it must be; I have a photograph.  Preserve your memories – they’re all that’s left you.”    

That last line spoke to me (apparently very loudly), and to its end I wrote in great detail about minutiae such as Making Eye Contact with Certain Guy at Football Game, or Listening to New Mix Tape while Driving to School on Snowy Day, or Eating Chocolate Muffin in Commons during First Hour Free Period.  To my impressionable high school self, the occurrences of everyday seemed simultaneously mundane and profound, and therefore deserving of the ability to be relived through retelling.  So with the voices of Paul and Art running through my head, I set to capturing those beautifully boring moments with all the dedication I could muster.  I always thought that one day I’d share those journals with my kids, but now that my kids actually exist, I have no interest in that.  I’m pretty sure they will have no interest in that either. 

But I still value the preservation of memories, and I want to have in print at least some of the amusing minutiae of my days with my girls.  I find that my narrative voice is most authentic and least embarrassing when I write for an audience.  So, I’m blogging again.  I hope that all visitors to my blog will enjoy my entries, but to be honest, my intended audience, and the one I care about most, consists of two people: Future Ellen and Future Cecilia.  This is for them, and for Future Me, I guess, so that one day we can sit together and say with certainty “so that’s where the time went.”