Deuces

She sometimes says “.... in the whole wide University” which makes me smile. And I don’t correct her. Because I know she means “...in the whole wide universe”. Whether she’s talking about a dessert, a toy, a game, or her love... To my budding pastry chef I often say back: “I love you more than anything else in the whole wide University”.

My mom walked in the door at 8 a.m. I had forgotten she was coming. Coming to help me. Coming to take my daughter to summer camp.  She sat next to me on the couch making small talk about home appraisals and the lunch she had the day before my with my half-sister, Diana.  Then she asked why my eyes were bloodshot.  And I cried. And I had cried not a couple hours before as my husband left the house with our baby in arms- taking her to school and himself to work. During this re-org, sometimes I cry.  And I will receive a call from my colleague Lester and he’ll tell me everything I need to hear.  Things about trust, friendships, loyalties and opportunities. And he’ll stay on the phone with me though he has less time than anyone. And his sincerity reaches me.  And I’ll receive an email from my colleague Pam who will get me back in focus.   And I’ll receive a picture from my sister- a picture that shows her happy daughter playing soccer in a championship gam...

The way she says “green”... Well... It just might be my favorite. And she’ll say it in a row, “Gween... lello... bu....  awn’j, wred....” And my heart melts at the sounds of my 26 month old daughter as she points to things and says the color. I should probably add that she never gets it right.  Unless I ask her to point to a color and she can readily find the correct color. Mostly.  I mean.... She is a toddler. And considering my parenting skills have taken a nosedive since the latest work reorganization, I can only thank Alana’s Montessori school for turning her into the ingenue she has become. I love her. She loves to be held. Tightly.  Way more tightly than anyone else I’ve ever loved. And it gives me so much... What’s the word...? Joy?  What is greater than joy but fills you up entirely and makes you feel whole? What is the word that describes a smile from the inside? What word describes the sweet satisfaction of holding a baby so close without them squirmin...

Who was I in 1999? I don’t know. In the days before MySpace and Facebook and cell phones and Insta-everything we didn’t capture all our glory and post for the world to see in 1999. There aren’t any videos or well-posed filtered photos of me at 19.  I don’t even know if “selfies” were a thing.  But thanks to my bestest for digging through her personal archives, she texted me these photos from 99’- taken while we were in Spain when she came to visit me during my study abroad: These old photos that made me cringe, only momentarily, and then smile. The big, wide grin that transports you back to a time long ago, in a galaxy not so far away. I wondered why I was pale. I wondered if all of us gals had on shirts we’d bought from Zara- the one just near la Plaza Mayor.  I wondered if Maria’s hair can still get that big and curly (can it, Maria?) I wondered why I always covered the freckles on my nose- in 1999 and today. I wondered where my eyebrows were (damn you, Gwen Stefani for...

Letters from the heart- that’s what I love. Words and all the ways they can spoil you. Simple words, sincere words, a few words, many words.  And handmade necklaces and things from my children.  Happy Mother’s Day. “I put my thumbprint in gold instead of silver because your last name is “Dorado” Necklace and card from Sayler: Flowers in a painted mason jar from Alana she made at Montessori:

Alana. You’re two. I don’t know exactly where the time has gone.  I hear the pitter patter of your size 7 foot running across the tile.  I smile. It’s daddy’s night to put you and Sayler to sleep.  I am resting comfortably in my own bed.   He is losing his authority. And it makes me smile. Him telling you to get back into bed. The pitter patter of your feet running back to your room before he catches you.  This is Your current nightly game. Falling asleep requires you being held close. A bottle (because we’re awful parents and you still take a bottle) to fall asleep. And when that bottle finishes you always need another.  And when we get up to get you another- you follow us to the kitchen though we always tell you to “stay here”.  The pitter patter of your feet across the tile. Then again as you run back to your room. I am amazed by you every day. You can communicate better than any other 2 year old I know- and I’m not saying that to brag. Rather- just...

The moment the Southern California sunshine kissed my face I felt a bit better. It’s no surprise (I hope) to anyone that being gone for work for several days always makes me a bit anxious, a lot homesick, and incredibly disconnected and by the end of a long week of missing the connections I so desperately need, I have a hard time talking.  (Yes: me).  So if you see me at the end of a long few days away and I stutter or seem confused or bewildered- know that I am ready for a mental sabbatical and not ignoring you.  Know that I probably need a hug, a nice story, a few minutes of quiet, maybe something to read or write about.  When I’m gone for more than a couple days I miss the moments of connection and contentment I get from a warm hug, my kids telling me they love me, my husband kissing my forehead, and enjoying the simple joy of being quiet.  I came home from a few long days in Chicago and my family welcomed me the way I needed- with hot food and warm, aggressi...