"Tomorrow! Tomorrow! I love you, tomorrow! You're only a DAY! A! WAAAAAAAAYYYYY!" That Marin loves singing this song I loved too as a child is of no surprise to me. That she is screeching it full force on the balcony of our condo in Breckenridge is a bit of a surprise, or maybe the surprise is that no one has bellowed down "shut up!" as her voice cracks and gives on the last word.
On the way up the mountain today, the questions and driving advice from the backseat were exhausting. Jon was trying to finish up some work - sitting in the passenger seat - and he was both amused and annoyed by her frequent input on how I should be driving. "The sign says the speed limit is 70. Are you going 70? Because it seems like you are going faster than that." or "Mom, those cars are passing you, I think you should speed up." or "Are you going to be turning right or left when we pull off the highway, because I need to know." I am used to getting a mini driver's ed session when carting Marin around, but for Jon it was a surprise, if only that he thought she had outgrown it by now.
These two "surprises" had us thinking about the other unexpected issues/events we've had while parenting Marin. For instance, we did not anticipate that Marin would dislike our dog so much. I asked her if she likes Belle and she said "She's a sweet doggie." Then I asked her if she loves Belle and she said "Not so much." In the car today, Belle kept trying to put her chin on Marin's legs, and Marin kept inching herself farther away from Belle. By the time I really noticed, Marin's feet and knees were practically out of the window, and I asked her why she wouldn't let Belle snuggle with her. She said "She has gross stuff hanging around on her chin." I didn't see anything unusual, but Marin was thinking of sins in Belle's past, apparently, where gross stuff has lingered upon occasion.
Other surprises - I no longer need to have a memory, thank goodness. It was time for that thing to retire. Marin's memory is so acute, so freakishly spot on (as her past teachers called it) that I don't have to remember a thing ever again. I can ask Marin where I packed away old ski gear from last winter before we finished the basement and reorganized everything and she will lead me to its spot three shelves up in our storage room. Rolling her eyes, she'll say "there, Mom. You put it up there." I can ask her to remind me about something - anything - and it's as good as Google calendar beeping at me. Done. Also, that Marin has little to no sweet tooth surprises me since mine is as big as a buck tooth redneck. She loves to help bake anything, but it will grow mold before she eats more than four bites of it.
Her perception of philosophical concepts, spirituality, and human nature is always a surprise, too. A few weeks ago, Jon asked me a series of questions about some mundane topic and it irritated me, as questions often do. I don't yell when I'm irritated; I show this emotion with a gaping, enormous silence and while I was just ignoring the annoying questions, as is my preference, Marin silently took out a piece of paper, a crayon, and drew a warning sign. This wasn't a child's scribbly drawing, it was a warning sign like you might find on a bottle of hazardous waste or on the edge of a trampoline showing how many different ways you can break your neck. She just slipped me the paper, said "Mom!" in that knowing way and went back to flitting around the room. Did I answer Jon's grating questions after that? Yes. While Jon was laughing and gloating, I answered his questions.
But my biggest surprise is what a passionate, enthusiastic learner she is, particularly regarding outer space. In the last year, we have read more, talked more, dreamed more about the planets, the sun, the stars, astroids, meteorites and comets than I could have possibly imagined. She is tireless in her pursuit of learning all she needs to join the ranks of NASA someday. She asked if we could write a letter to them so that they would know she wants to be the first person to land on Mars, but she said we could only write that letter if we could leave out words including the letter G. "I don't make good Gs. They would not be impressed." When getting her hair cut last week, Kara (hairstylist) asked Marin why she wanted to land on Mars, and Marin said because it was the most likely planet a human could visit, but that it would be cold. Kara suggested that Marin take hot chocolate to help warm her up, and Marin didn't miss a beat in saying "Can't. It would freeze too fast and I couldn't drink it." Neither Kara nor I, the adults, had considered it, but Marin had.
Don't worry. I don't really think that Marin is going to grow up and be an astronaut. I may help her dream and encourage her to be anything she wants to be, but I can't think of anything more terrifying than one night sitting on my deck looking up at the stars knowing my daughter is up in space. The thought makes me nauseated, as the enormity of space scares the heck out of me. Jon says we don't have to worry, that Marin will probably be something like a florist, and I think there is more truth in that than not. Nonetheless, if Marin wants to dream about landing on Mars, I'm not going to stand in her way. Plus, it gave me a great segue into the normal parental platform of "You must work very hard to achieve your goals." With everything she does, be it piano lessons, basic math, reading, or making cookies, she asks if working this hard will help her be an astronaut.
Two nights ago was the big meteor shower and Marin was talking about it for days ahead. We had to read up on the differences between asteroids, meteors, meteoroids and meteorites,* and we had to study up on the variances in sizes etc. We then packed our car up with blankets and snacks, all carefully arranged by Marin, and we headed off to the park. Not only were we allowing her to stay up WAY past her bedtime, but we were lying in the grass staring up at stars, and for the first time in Marin's life, looking at three planets - Venus, Mars, and Saturn. She danced and twirled in the dewey grass laughing and leaping to celebrate her good fortune. It was the easiest thing I've ever done to make her happy and joy poured out of that child as she tried desperately to feel the earth spin on its axis.
And I am surprised. To find such joy in learning and deepening her understanding surprises me as her personality unfolds before me. I love, love, love reading to my child but when I pictured this activity, I thought we would be pouring through Narnia, secret gardens, going down rabbit holes, and visiting Lost Boys. I didn't think it would be volcanoes and craters on Mars, wicked weather on Venus, and gas giants. But still I love to sit beside her and turn pages of any book that gets her excited about life. It may never be easy to take her to a public restroom (Why are they always SO GROSS, Mom? Eeewww - what is that?) but it will be easy to turn her curiosity toward the orbiting planets and let her imagination run wild.
*Oids are outside the atmosphere, ites are inside it, and meteors are in between.
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