Avery: Mama, remember the day you took me to school and I had my face on your shoulder because it was cold? Me: Yes, baby. Of course I do. Avery: You gave me a kiss to take me through the day but the wind blew it off.
Categories: Mama Sap
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Most days I know about the speed of sand, am intimately familiar with just how fast the grains slip through the hourglass. I catch the tail end of a spec catching golden sunlight as it spirals toward the ever-taller tower of passed moments, the cheek that moments before was plump reflecting new, darker light in unfamiliar hollows. Moments of clarity have led me to chronicle and savor rituals and to celebrate seemingly unremarkable moments. Lately though, I’ve felt that despite my best efforts, way more air than sand has been catching in my hands. I have, surprise-surprise, lost sight of something for my desperate lunges for time. It’s us. I am letting us slip through my fingers.
Categories: Love
Nobody likes to talk about how long they take to get ready. Most of us are like, “Huh? Primping? Not me, I’m a wash and go kind of gal. From the shower to the driver’s seat in 10 minutes.” This might be true on those days when I sport my frizzy mop with a halfhearted attempt at pulling it back and have my requisite feather-weight Gap thermal on with jeans and a necklace intended to make me look put-together. No, I am not an out the door in ten person if I am actually trying. I don’t think anyone would hold it against me. What I do think is crap is the, “My kids are angels and in bed by 8,” said with a…
Categories: Me
Rotary makes me cry. I have, and I am not exaggerating here, cried at 4 meetings. I don’t mean the kind of sarcastic, how is it that I am old enough to be here kind of figurative crying, though there is that. I mean the kind of crying that has me looking around the table with panic and thinking, “These tears are not going to be choked or blinked back.” Thursday was the first time I truly feared it was going to go the ugly, snotty route.
Categories: Mama Sap
Despite the fact that “my kid says…” is generally only cute to the parents and the ass-kissing people in the lives of the parents, my kid says the cutest thing. Often. It’s really just this one that get me lately. Fin will walk into a room, throw her arms wide and sing, “Wa-da!” which is her dramatic and endearing version of “ta-da!”
Categories: Roar