Deuces

I sat on the floor of a messy room. There were Legos to my left and wooden puzzle pieces strewn about and my naked daughter sat among all the Little Things. It was her 3rd birthday on an otherwise quiet Friday.  She didn't know she was any older as I wept about all the Little Things I would miss about her being 2, while feeling some trepidation mixed with excitement over her turning 3. Because when Sueann said she heard that boys experience "Terrible Twos" and girls experience "Theatrical Threes" I knew she was on to something....because there was little about age two that was terrible. The tantrums were few and short lasting.   There was a sense of rationality to her fits and I could minimize them with soothing, if not comical, words at her expense.  She loves me. But she is becoming quite theatrical. Age 3 has been interesting so far.   She spent the weekend chastizing Lloyd when he raised his voice, ever so slightly, in disagreem

I started Mother's Day writing about my daughter... I followed it with a run. I came home to find my husband cooking, as he does every Mother's Day, what I have asked for. And among the things I requested he make I had a hankering for a cheese plate that included an awesome Brie and mozzarella...  Lloyd is an excellent chef. And when Mother's Day approaches I always spend a long while asking my heart what it desires most from his cooking skills. And on my run I pushed myself a little harder, and a little further.  I went for miles without a watch, without a pace, without anything but gratitude.. It was my way of taking care of myself and thanking my body for giving me the greatest creation I could have hoped for. I am a mom. I sometimes reflect on my body and all the ways it has changed since becoming a mom and everything it allows me to do.  I think of it more now that I have created and carried a daughter, and as I age, as I work long days, sitting, standing,

"Mommy are you sad?" "Yes... yes mommy is sad..." "OH!  ....Daddy, go get D'Schtarbucks for mommy!  Go now!" My daughter knows how to make me happy, even if I'm only suffering from the first world malaise of needing a coffee syphon. It's the little things, y'know? Iced coffee being a little thing. And my daughter makes me laugh a lot when she has my back, especially if it comes at Lloyd's expense. Because sometimes he'll say "no" and she has a way of making him say "yes" to early evening treks to Schtarbucks for coffee. And Sayler makes me so happy in so many ways it is difficult to not lean on her for support when I'm having an off day.  The neediness I feel to be in her joyful presence, the absolute security I find in our quiet early morning bed-lingering where we often stare, sleepily,  at one another, small kisses of the butterfly and Eskimo variety in abundance...   A

At day's end I am happy. Most days, anyway! And like all those happy ending days I am reflecting on the joy of the everydays. Afternoons with my daughter.  When I crave "ice-cream" and she wants "gummy bears" I know the only place for us to compromise is with Nubi Fro-Yo: Early evenings when we need to get some groceries, desperately, immediately and I oblige my daughter's wish to dress herself (shoes backwards+ pants backwards+ dirty shirt = happy toddler) Evenings, alone, quietly digressing when I catch a glimpse from the corner of my eye of a bouquet of flowers and roses from Lloyd.  An anniversary assortment that fills this corner of the room with color and life. Morning make-up class at "Ch'mactics" class with Sayler where, try as I may, I can't help but compare Sayler's athleticism to her peers and wonder how I can help her slay bear-walking across parallel bars (seriously: how can anyone do that?) Weekend days bike riding at the