Rebecca Wolf

This blog is a chronicle of my daughters' growth - born July 2003 and May 2007. Be sure to check out the Thriving Babies homepage, for videos and instructions on how to use every type of baby carrier. For literacy and homeschooling tips, visit my Rochester-based Learning Center blog at

Sunday, May 10, 2009

Another Treat

I am writing this post as I sample the pleasures of my favorite candy bar: a Symphony with almonds and toffee chips. Don't know why, but this one just does it for me.

Anyway, I had the sheer pleasure of enjoying a music concert at Rochester's Lilac Festival last night. Granted, I haven't been to many musical concerts since I had children. We saw Bill Cosby at the Seneca Niagara casino last year, thanks to my sister-in-law, who scored us some free tickets. Man, my cheeks hurt from laughing so hard, but I don't really count that as a music concert.

Rickie Lee Jones put on an amazing show, albeit far too short. We were afraid we might get rained out, and of course, it was an outdoor concert. As luck would have it, the skies were partly cloudy and there was a stiff wind, but no precipitation during Rickie's act.

She started with Weasel and the White Boys Cool. She sang some songs from her yet to be released album, and her newest one, The Sermon on Exposition Blvd. Half way through the concert, I shut my eyes, leaned back in my fold-up camping chair, and just listened to her sing to me like I was the only person in the world. I felt the sun warm my face and the wind brush my hair.

Rickie was singing Horses from the Flying Cowboys album, one of my favorites. She sang it for her daughter and in honor of Mother's Day. As I was listening to her lyrics, I felt this rush of hope and love. She sang, "That's the way it's gonna' be little darlin'. We'll go riding on the horses in the end. Way up in the sky little darlin'. And if you fall, I'll pick you up, I'll pick you up."

I thought, "Man, isn't that something a mom would say?"

I want so much to protect my girls from anything harmful or negative. I want to shield them from pain and make their lives easier than mine was. But I can't. I can't live someone else's life or soak up all of the badness for them. The only thing I can do is be a model for them of a loving, caring person who stands up for what she believes in and takes care of her own.

Sometimes I feel like too much of a nervous Nellie. I'm always saying, "Don't do this. Don't do that, you might hurt yourself." Rickie was a wild one but can still express her affection for her daughter without being overprotective. Maybe there is something for me to learn here. Maybe I can just trust that my daughters have decent judgement and can pick themselves up once in awhile. Maybe I can just concentrate on enjoying their fleeting childhood years and celebrate them for who they are, and not who I want them to be.

Maybe . . . .

Rebecca Wolf

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