Monday, June 30, 2008

As She gets older

it gets easier in some ways, not so much in others. I’ve become an accomplice of sorts to her fashion whims and hair-do designs, book choices and preferred ipod playlists. There’s lots we disagree on but much more common ground to be found when I’m not stressing about the former. She’s still small enough to hug me in public, but much too mature-for-sure to hold my hand in parking lots. Fine child, have it your way. But don’t be rolling your eyeballs when I freak out and body-slam you out of harm’s way should a car start backing up towards you.

Just warning you.

She’s rapidly changing in ways that force my hand to let go of control, otherwise I should prepare to battle her and undoubtedly die on every hill. She’s stubborn like her Mutha, that one. She’s got the huffy exhale and upwards stare down-pact way earlier than I ever did. I’m starting to believe that curse my own mother put on my unborn children might have had some actual validity to it. And all this time I thought she was boiling wart of newt and toenail of toad for a stew….

I digress. Often.

She’s becoming her own person. A smaller, dirty-blonde, tan-skinned, muscularly-legged, green-eyed version of me. With a pink ipod in one hand and The Hobbit in the other.

If she doesn’t agree with it, want it or condone it, she’ll tell you in simple terms. And this year she’s wrapped up my summer in a beautifully shiny box with a big red ribbon on top by deciding that she doesn’t want any extended visits with her bio-dad ten hours away. She’s decided that a week in September will suffice.

Oh child.

I know he loves you in the ways he can and I know you’ll always need him present in one way or another. He is, after-all, half your story and you can thank him for those long bony toes of yours. But because Cool is very important to you these days, you have no idea how honored and happy I am that summers with Mama are where’s it’s at.

I’ll try not to disappoint you with too many dorky field trips to the science center and the library. Yo.


      Thursday, June 26, 2008


      There are times when perfection needs no introduction. No explanation. No clarification. Sometimes an ivy league institute or marble sculpture just isn’t enough to honor somebody with such war mongering unwavering credentials.

      petition is making its rounds in honor of our beloved patsy president.

      And nothing could blend so smoothly with my first cup of coffee.

      Thursday, June 19, 2008

      In a nice place

      that’s where I am. A place that has nothing to do with the number on the scale or on the tag in my jeans. A place where colossal gas prices and a traveling husband still haven’t managed to drown me in gloom. A place where cheerful little pumpkin plants sprout up with excitement.

      I’m in a freshly greened, mildly warmed, carefree place.

      A place teeming with mosquitoes. And Indian paintbrushes.

      This place has children. Happy, dirty-faced children slurping on blue raspberry popsicles and lemon wedges, always asking for ice cream and usually getting it.

      It has a warmish pool of water for splashing in, a hill for rolling down and a window pane on which I can trace the rain drops as they trickle down in fits of delayed April showers.

      It’s a place I never knew I always wanted.

      My home – my happy place.

      I’m relishing every moment of the happiest place on earth – knowing it won’t always be mine.

      Wednesday, June 18, 2008

      Racism alive and well within the Republican party

      oozing out, leaving behind a vile trail of fanatical bigotry and acidic regression.

      Monday, June 09, 2008

      OMG! NKOTB! In my livingroom!

      How's my hair?! Lip gloss look okay? My black flats - do they match my light or dark acid washed jeans better? Are my bangs in a straight line?

      Where's my hairbrush microphone??



      All eyes on me.

      Joey loves me. Only me.

      Damnit why is my sister banging on the door again?!


      I'm their best groupie.

      Sipping Arizona iced tea and blowing Bubblicious bubbles.

      Throwing my head back and laughing at everything they say.

      Age 13 but wanting to be 17 and big breasted.

      Age 32 but wishing they were smaller and perkier.