Figuring it out as I go

Zoe's memory astounds me. She brought up the whole Two Hoots incident a couple days ago, which of course made me question my parenting abilities yet again and make a mental note to save as much for her future counseling sessions as for college.

Every once in awhile, she makes me grind to a stop and catch my breath. I have to remind myself that it's okay that I don't know what the f*** I'm doing when it comes to mothering. I'm going through this day by day, learning along the way, and that's okay.

Sometimes, out of the blue, she brings up Little Great Grandma and wants to talk about dying. Or, as she calls it, "died." She's intensely curious about died, which, hell, aren't we all. But the whole concept gives me the willies and I find that I can't think about it for very long without getting completely freaked out. Enter the 4-year-old who doesn't care about her mother's neuroses.

We were driving home from school and she nodded towards the funeral home that we pass twice a day, every day.

"That's where we said goodbye to Little Great Grandma."

"It sure is, Zozer."

"Where is she now?"

"Heaven."

Pointing back towards the funeral home, "Is that heaven?"

All in the same nanosecond, I wanted to laugh and I started to panic. How do I explain where heaven is? How do I explain to a child that when you go there, you leave your body behind? How do I convey the meaning of "spirit" when, for once in my life, I can't come up with any words?

I tried to talk about how your spirit is something inside you, all mixed up with your feelings and your fears and your wants and urges and desires and passions. Okay, so maybe I left out a few of those words (just as I'm leaving a bit of magic in answering the question, "How does the baby get in the mommy's belly?"), but that's the, for lack of a better term, spirit of what I tried to convey.

She seemed satisfied. Thumb went back in mouth, Hoot went back to staring across the beautiful planes of her face, and a thoughtful look descended on her.

"Is that okay, Bug? Do you have any more questions? Do you want to talk about it some more?"

"Thanks, Mommy. I'm good."

Deep breath. This parenting shit is hard.