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Ooof

Posted on March 12, 2007

Admittedly I am a sentimental person. The Aaron Neville cotton ads kill me. The “a baby changes everything” Johnson & Johnson ads? A puddle. That’s all that’s left of me, a big, wet, snorting puddle. Now, throw two kids in two years into the mix, sprinkle in the death of my grandfather that I continue to be in utter denial about and you have a person likely to cry at the sight of a pair of tapered jeans. Because, you know, they demonstrate the passage of time and that means not being a kid anymore, and becoming a mom, getting closer to death, which means leaving the girls alone, which means the end of living for them. I know, pull yourself together already, right?…

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No Filter

Posted on March 12, 2007

Sometimes when I am with my daughter her spirit unlocks a part of me that makes anything possible. The other day we were painting and the sun came out from behind a cloud and shone through the window overhead. A little sparkly purse. A bit of sunlight. In that moment I heard the sounds of live theatre.Smelled the kiss of freshly laundered clothes.I felt the flutters of a first date.The heady power of triumph.I wanted for nothing and believed anything possible. When the sun passed I turned to see if Briar had seen the same thing. There in her face was all the light of the sun, the promise of those sparkles, and the message that anything is possible.

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Wet Dream

Posted on March 10, 2007

Ah life, it’s fucking grand. Yesterday was a day for the record books. Sean was sick, Briar was a marauding tank full of piss and vinegar and Avery was relentlessly getting all up in the grill of the aforementioned tank, which any mom of two under three can tell you spells : T-R-O-U-B-L-E I really did my best to keep it all together. Briar has a drawer in the kitchen, meant to keep her out of trouble. As many of you dearly coveted readers and commenters know, she has taken an interest in a spelunking of sorts, using a teaspoon to plumb the depths of our poor dog’s anal cave. Now, that in itself isn’t all that awful (ok, actually it is, but it’s…

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By Dawn’s Early Light

Posted on March 9, 2007

The room was dark, Sean lay beside me in deep Nyquil slumber. My eyes seemed to respond to the sound,a faint cry, before my ears. No, please no. Don’t open us just yet. My left eye taking things so far that it genuinely wouldn’t open. I delicately slipped my left leg out and braced myself for the kiss of the cold hardwood against my foot. Avery mewed in the other room, a still gentle sound, as I made my way from beneath the quilts on our bed. They floated gently down to the now empty side of the bed, Sean’s form took shape behind small calico and plaid squares. I ran my hand along the length of his legs and whispered I’d be back.…

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