Sometimes I come back.

We are in the thunder and lightening days of summer. It has been nearly three months since I wrote a thing other than a grocery list. There are many excuses. Aren't there always? Some things that were hard. Some things I made harder. A blank page was just one more thing I met with uncertainty. And avoidance. Poor, much loved, much helped, little girl. Honestly, it all seems a little bourgeois to me now.

Time to wake up, and get to work.
Briefly, before I begin again,
the summer...
There were kebabs and dance parties and fresh tomatoes. Garden planted and neglected. Lovely husband. Organized simplicity. Growing baby and belly. Depression (not mine). Visits from family. 2nd trimester sex (worth getting pregnant for). Dollar menu burgers. Margaret's unholy love for dinosaurs and Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. Even lovelier husband. Garden still neglected. Bigger baby, bigger belly. Riley working 60 hour weeks. Disorganized complexity. Friday Night Lights. The natural history museum (Margaret, look at the zebras! OH I LOVE IT THE ZEBRAS, MOMMY!). Third trimester sex ( Wonderful friends. A garden so wild it might eat the house. Depression (mine). Singing with the Zuzu. Fifth anniversary. Cornbread. Baby bigger, belly darn near obscene. That Riley, even lovelier still.
I think Fall is just the thing I need. Can't wait to see you there.

It's Her World

"She is given to fits of semi-precious metaphors." - Juniper Pearl Benny and Joon. Cinematic perfection. Chocolate cake. On a day with thunder. While Margaret sleeps. My cup runneth over.

Yesterday, Margaret officially established herself as the smartest third of our family equation. She and I had been playing house for several hours. Putting baby to bed. Dropping baby. Picking up baby and making her feel better. Cleaning. Dancing. You know, the usual.

In the middle of it all she turns to me,

"Time Out, Mommy?" "No, sugar pi, we are playing! Don't worry about time out." "Time Out, please?" "Zuzu, you are crazy. No time out."

Brief moment of two year old concentration. Bright smile. Followed by a hard slap across my leg.


At which point she triumphantly crossed the room and placed herself in the corner.

Just 30 seconds and the two foot tall evil genius neutralized the one weapon in my mommy arsenal.

I guess it was just a matter of time.