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Belle Down Below

Posted on May 29, 2009

It’s a tough life here for a doll. Why just this afternoon Ave walked up to me and said: “Uh, mom, Belle’s got a problem.” Sure enough, Belle went and got herself knocked up in some sort of self-impregnating disaster. And so I did what any good mama of 3, privy to the tearing of childbirth and doll abuse would do, I yanked as hard as I could crossing my fingers nothing break. I give you Belle¬≤

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Whispers

Posted on May 29, 2009

When I was a little girl I lived on Hickory Lane. There was a field near our house that I loved disappearing to. It was, to my young eyes, enormous, a wide expanse of promise filled brush. I would run out, far enough to feel deliciously free, but not so far that I couldn’t get back home before whatever evil might be lurking in the shadows leapt out at me. I would spend hours fashioning homesteads, hunting magic creatures and hiding from passing cars. Briar has found a field. She just finished preschool, an event that drove home how fast she is growing and how despite her quest for independence, she is still a very, little girl. The last day of school was something…

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I’m not beautiful

Posted on May 28, 2009

Sean was working late and I had the girls in various stages of undress as we transitioned from reading to dancing. Ave was the first to get dressed, donning her pink ballerina costume with its bodice of dog-eared bows and quirky, stick-straight-up-instead-of-out-tutu. I was rushing to get Briar a fourth, fifth and six skirt to add to her faux hoop-skirtesque ensemble. “Inowbooyflll,” tickled at my ear. “What?” I asked turning to see who and where it came from. Ave was sitting with her knees tucked beneath her in the corner, her hair fell over her face as she looked up at me. “What did you say, sweets?” I asked. “I’m not beautiful,” she said, eyes sorrowful and piercing. “You’re what?” I said lowering myself…

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