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...

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, sta...

"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 ...

It really was a beautiful spring day. We celebrated a life of love and humor. And funerals are not supposed to be happy, but there was a lot of joy around us this past Easter weekend. Uncle Mike, you will be remembered for your kindness and gentle soul.  You will be remembered for having similar traits to your 6 brothers.  Traits I know well because you were my father's brother. Stories that echoed a strong work ethic. Tales of resourcefulness, love of children and grandchildren and anecdotes of a dry, powerful wit that could miss most people who haven't spent considerable time with a "Dorado".  Only my cousins and I know what it's like to be the offspring of "one of the brothers", as you are collectively referred to, one not being of his own person... It's love that is inferred, though it wasn't said often.  It's jumping in the back of a crowded vehicle on a random, spontaneous "camping trip" with a loaf of bread and bologna.  It...

My work BFF sends me a lot of astrology-related stuff lately and I can't help but feel bemused by his sense of wonder for everything in the stars.  But, of course, like all people I admire who think beyond the factual he effectually now has me checking my astrology every single day.  Blasted.     And once I've read my own and wondered what its life implications are I read Lloyd and the "moonchild's" horoscopes, and, on occasion, I'll even send screen shots of her reading via text, because I want Ariel to know I am inside her head and I've got her astrological number.  And when Lloyd or Ariel are having "off" days, astrologically speaking, I try to be a better version of myself to them because we could all use some kindness on our less-than-spectacular days. I hold in high regard people who believe in what they can only feel or intuit.  I laud their conviction and consistency.   And maybe I am p...

I can almost feel the return to the old me.   It's the one who knows all the lyrics to the K-Day afternoon line-up.   It's the version of me that washes laundry and dishes in the middle of the night.   It is the unapolgetic mother who spends a little more time in non-sense conversations with her toddler than in sensible ones with adults.   It is the me that tries to carefully plan the weeks ahead, but is careful to not plan the years.   I don't have it all figured out,   and it's nice to get back to the version of me that loves that.   And my daughter reminds me of all that ain't too shabby with me.   "Don't worry mommy, it was an accident..."   And I both shake my head and smile when she says it, and she says it several times each day.   I don't know how to be upset when she forgives herself, or me.   When she becomes so entranced in her Monster's Inc. movie that our potty-trained daught...