Archive for the 'I’m not really sure why I’m telling you this' Category

full and solid and soft

31 December, 2013

I said “Let’s not let this baby change us”. I said “Let’s not let our house be taken over by toys”. I said “Lets make time for one another”. But here I am, one day away from the 31st of 2013, one day away from my 31st trip around the sun, and, whew boy, did I request the impossible. My house (especially after christmas and especially after a flu that left Eli incapacitated and the little dragon grump-tastic and foggy) the little shoe box we’ve been temporarily living in is FILLED with fucking toys. And there is a swear jar on the shelf FILLED with quarters and even though I said ‘fucking’ in the last sentence I had to pause and think after I typed it. And we do try and make time for each other but it’s crammed into the two hours after the dragon’s bed time and before we pass out, the time when we must also clean ourselves and put away and occasionally pet the dog.
So, really, it’s a pretty normal American life. And while I feel so old (the oldest I’ve ever been) and so tired (so tired) my life is full and solid and soft and I (mostly) appreciate all the little presents that leave too quick. Or I try. And that’s all I can ask of myself, really. Just to try to live in the moment, because while the moment is sleep deprived and tripping over toys, it’s adorable and it’s mine.


revel and languish

15 September, 2013

False Lilly of the Vally
An hour or more on a rumpled couch, laptop open, eating the only chocolate in the house (dark, and not my favorite), not not thinking about all the things I should be doing and I take another bite and slouch a little deeper, sigh and let the dog in because she’s barking but I will not walk her yet no dog, go lay down, and smile, smirk, because I’m sneaking out on life, stealing a moment of useless, just, yes.

I’ve loved every part the most

4 September, 2013

Dearest one (year old),
I remember when I was a kid and I read a book where the main character leaves Earth to live amongst aliens. I don’t remember the name of the book, but I loved the idea. If offered the chance, I told myself, I would leave. I mean, sure, I would miss my pets and my mom and everything– but– aliens! Space travel!! New!! This idea stuck with me as I grew, and is probably why I studied anthropology for so long. I told your daddy that as much as I loved him (and oh, I love him) I would have to go if aliens asked me to. He would always look at me a little sadly and then shake his head OK, comfortable with the odds of me getting to live on alien spacecraft.
But you know what, little one? When you were born I no longer wanted to leave Earth. Even if you and your dad got to come with, I don’t want us to go. I want you to know Earth and what it is to be human, what it means to love someone and to eat strawberry shortcake. All of the good things and even some of the bad and the boring and even, even broccoli.
So that’s my lesson from this year– you are so wonderful, so beautiful, so unique that I’ve had my philosophies and hidden dreams and heart completely changed by it. I don’t want to know other worlds so badly that I’d leave this one– now I want to know what the world is with you in it.
You grow so fast, so fast. I’ve loved every stage the best. I thought I knew joy, knew love, knew all the best things that the universe had to offer, but I didn’t, because I didn’t know you.
Happy first birthday, baby.

I have more to tell you, but no time to tell it. Later, perhaps.

a lit candle

4 September, 2013

Yesterday I lit the candle shaped like a “1”, gathered the cake and grinned, preparing to take it out to my baby. In moments like these, too fleeting and personal to freeze with a camera, the image in front of my eyes resonates through time, meaning flowing past and present, and I think ‘This is it, right here, this feeling, I don’t ever want to forget this’.


3 July, 2013

While everyone else in the pacific northwest is cursing the heat and hiding in movie theaters I am blissfully drinking iced coffee and breaking out in sandals and tank tops.
Oh how I love to be warm. And even though I don’t have the fruit I’m used to (watermelon and peaches and tomatos how I miss you) I do have the baby’s (formidable) weight in berries cluttering my countertop. Bliss is bare feet and fruit. And perhaps a sleeping, sweaty baby.