ivy...

i remember the oddest things.

like the time my grandma told me my smile was like that farrah fawcett's smile. better, even. you know i've never been one to accept compliments gracefully, but that one came only a few weeks after that whole liberace misfortune. so this little fella clung to it, thirty years and counting.

i remember one of the first madly-interminably-in-love things uncle sugar said to me the very first night we met. he said the same exact thing yesterday and he'll most likely say it again today with the same naughty look.

i remember what i said when each of the girlies three were born, and i've made sure they remember, too. you should hear esmé recount my gasp and first three words to her: you're! so! cute!

i keep pretty much every batch of good words in my back pocket, don't you? i know exactly how many times i've been told i was a great writer and that i have fantastic shoulders and a really happy smile. i've been called a free spirit exactly four times, and i never forget how this was meant as a compliment only three times. i'm still holding every begrudging nice shot from the tennis court, every random thank you, and maybe even one or two you're just perfect.

one thing, though. i have a difficult time remembering the bad. any bad. {note: to the two or three people with whom i've held nonsense grudges? this does not apply to you. i remember what you said. in sixth grade.} and i wonder if it's because i never heard any bad growing up...

i was lucky enough to live a really idyllic childhood, and it's hard for me to remember anything else. i don't remember my dad swearing or getting angry. the worst i ever heard him say was that guy can go...suck eggs. he and my brothers and sisters enjoyed the heck out of me in my memories, and my mom absolutely lived for me. my oldest brother taught me to cartwheel when he learned i was the only girl in my class who couldn't and that even mark schwinnen could. he also built me a bike and painted it sparkly blue to match my eyes. to this day, when i fill out forms, i have to stop myself from writing eye color: sparkly blue. i had it made, yes?

which brings me to last night. grae was putting a goofy hat on esmé, and esmé made her monkey face in the mirror, and grae said to me she looks like such a little weirdo! and, of course, mémé laughed and made another monkey face, which made my grae-girl giggle all the more.

but i pulled grae aside a little while later and asked her what she remembers hearing when she was a little. and she thought about it because she's a really thoughtful girl. she said well. you told me i'm the most beautiful girl. i know i'm probably one of the smartest, too. the nicest. definitely the strongest.

{totally true. i know this because she punched the muscle in her leg and didn't. even. flinch.}

anyway. i just suggested that she offer mémé the same chance to feel perfect, and i know my girl listened. because within ten minutes, esmé was hopping around the house telling anyone and no one who would listen that she's gracie's twin. and they're perfect, didn't you know?

of course i did.

houses via flickr. the very first or second time i met uncle sugar's mom, we were silent-driving though a neighborhood on the way to von maur. silence slays me, so i looked out the window and said oh, look at that house! don't you love ivy? no. she did not love ivy. and for the rest of the drive i heard about the home-owners from hell. ivy-ists. a sad lot, really. they have no idea the horrors that happen under all that green. good luck with resale, suckers. but do you know what makes me giggle so hard right now as i write this? she probably doesn't even remember this moment. anyway. all this to ask you, do you remember things like this? do you keep these words with you? do tell. i'm in the mood to chat.

and in case you were wondering, i quite like ivy. but i like uncle sugar's mom way more than that.