Deuces

My husband is out of town. This night is quiet. My baby girl fell asleep in my arms at 7 p.m. while wrapped in a bath towel. This house is quiet. I have a stack of work to do, but it will wait until tomorrow. This mind is quiet. I have a phone fully charged and no messages to send or receive. This phone is quiet. I have a T.V. without cable. This space is quiet. And when planning, musing, predicting, wondering, assuming, and any general amount of over-thinking is to be avoided I focus on a song, an album, a book or any other transporting mechanism to keep me focused on as little as possible. I am in love with Bon Iver.  Bon keeps me quiet. I Love this Bon Song

I'm not sure I ever wanted to strike a toddler before. But I wanted to. And as my blood boiled I had to remember there was a lesson in here somewhere that I was supposed to be teaching my daughter, so against all my best instincts I steered clear of using the words "cut her". I knew Sayler wasn't a huge fan of at least one of the girls in her daycare.  She doesn't like when one of the twin girls 'touch her packpack' (that's when one of those little brats tries to rifle through Sayler's backpack). But Sayler loves Chica and Yaya and Sethy and Alan and both Rebeccas and doesn't even mind the brat's twin sister, Reyna, but that little Alicia is on my "you're a very bad girl" list and when she turns 18, hold me back and hold my hoop earrings because I will cut her. Sayler loves her friends at daycare often talking about Chica and Sethy and recounting their playing and she will go into great detail about how Candelaria (Y

Our mornings go fast on most weekdays. But sometimes we linger into them. We cuddle longer and today my daughter managed to make me giggle more than once before 8 a.m. The first time was the sleepy moment when I felt my daughter stir as she lay next to me. It was still early and dark and quiet and her frantic movement told me she was having a nightmare.  In a torrid moment of panic, eyes closed tight, I heard my daughter yell out in her sleep, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" She then settled back into the duvet and peacefully continued in her slumber. Though I was half-asleep, I couldn't help but quietly shake as I attempted to hold back the laughter. No one loves the "Happy Birthday Today" song as much as my daughter does. A couple hours later as we approached our usual "get up, get moving" hour she woke quickly, didn't see me hiding from the sun under the covers and immediately started yelling for me. When I whispered her name she s

I am struggling to figure out what the consequences are for my child's behavior. Does she have a malicious temperament? No. Not even a little bit. But sometimes, like all children, she tests us. "No" is somehow interpreted as "maybe","Don't" is often read as "But I will anyway" and saying her name sternly brings the warmest smile to her face.  It is a sly, comical smile that makes her eyes twinkle and says "mommy, c'mon, let's be real here: this mess I'd like to create isn't going to matter in 20 years time. Lighten up". And she is right. But sometimes, Sometimes, Mommy doesn't want to pick up the puzzle pieces Sayler has haphazardly strewn across the floor while being told, as the pieces are being launched "Sayler, mommy said don't throw those." Mommy is trying to raise a daughter that is tidy, after all. And our generally-good-natured little girl will often take heed.  She

It was on Friday night. We laughed a lot, perhaps made delirious by the sweet smell of men that were familiar-yet-elusive and desirable. It could have been the wine,  it could have been the great company of old friends and conversations and shared opinions with other women. I disagreed with Ariel more than once, though... "Too sweet" or.... "smells like a jelly bean...." The ones I couldn't put down were the ones that smelled like a man's deodorant, hidden among 75+ samples that scattered in baskets around the coffee table. There we sat around a table full of scents as we sampled the fragrances from a friend's Scentsy collection, eager to fill out our order forms for the smells that would soon promise to envelop our homes. I opted for the "Iced Pine" option, which always reminds me of the home I have not yet lived in and lingered around the fragrances that smelled of citrus and orange peels.  The idea of the smell of "Orange

Text-Talk Work-Stuff Music Stuff Family Lovin' and one photo bomber Celebrations with naked babies Running fatigue P.S. I love you.

Things escalate really quickly when I don't get a reply from my sanchita. Ariel can be so elusive! But she's sweet too. We often have "sancha" days just her and I and a nice long hike or pedicure or run or massage... And like a good sancha she sends me texts like this: She can read my mind in an eerie way and sends me Groupon codes for massages and vacations and everything else she knows I dream about. That's my Sanchita.

There are those things that I just can't get enough of lately- these are 5. 1.  Chobani yogurt. Seriously: I purchase so many the cashier at Super Target probably thinks I have IBS.  I swear I don't: I just totally can't get enough (especially that chocolate mint one and the classic strawberry).  Yogasm. 2. The new Lorde album.  Ariel: big smooch your way for introducing me to them, you hip, hip, hip girl.  I am slightly troubled by the band's name, but they keep bringing out the bangerz so I can't complain. 3. Running in my new Skora kicks. My feet have never felt so amazing- my runs so effortless.  5 miles logged today all while pushing the most problematic umbrella stroller and 25 pound sleeping beauty (my jogger broke-damnit!) Please add a new pair of Skora Cores to my Christmas list.  Oh, and I am eyeing the Brooks Ghost 5 (or 6) Running Shoes. Size 7.5 please, please, please. I'll be your best friend.  If it turns out I can run sockless in th