October 26, 2012 § 1 Comment
Oh the glorious moments after the children are bedded down. I settle myself in my evening safe space, laptop, blackberry, weed, bowl. Lighter. The pressure valve that’s thrown, the release of a big puff of air when you realize you survived another day. Another whole day of kids and husband and life. Disasters, holidays, happy days, homework time, random moments of a practically spiritual nature. And laughing. What else can you do but laugh a lot. That’s how you get them there, give kids roots and give them wings, as my friend Libby would say. I’m sorry I can’t give them more and I’m proud for what I give them. I agonize over every misstep, every fall back and broken expectation. Like fractured glass. Then, there are spelling tests. 96! And the LittleOne says “Mommy, can you scratch my back?” And you do and she throws her head back and says “Ahhhhhhh.” And you can’t believe it!
It’s worth it. For these thrown valve moments.
August 11, 2012 § 1 Comment
You are scowling.
I say you are not happy.
You get angry and argue the point.
You say most people are just getting by.
I get angry and argue the point.
I say “okay, are you happy?”
You say you are happy.
You are scowling.
July 5, 2012 § 7 Comments
He is always losing something. His keys, his phone, his iPod, his license, his bank card, his hat, his work shirt. Honey, have you seen the keys? I can’t find my license. Where did those directions go? I lost my sunglasses.
When I was six months pregnant with my first daughter, he put the keys in my purse and promptly FORGOT. We didn’t check it until hours of looking later. At that point we had already contacted the dealer to order new keys. I had missed work. We had called my sister-in-law down from New Hampshire to drive us to GET the new keys and screamed at each other. A lot.
For years, it drove me nuts. I would set up key hooks. We tried a bowl. Nothing I could do, no habit to ingrain, no trick I could teach, no job I could assign could stop him from losing his shit.
Then, one day it just dawned on me in one of those freeing moments where a chunk of that chip on your shoulder that you never admit exists falls away and you breathe deeper than you thought possible. Things like that just happen to him. It’s just part of who he is. Loving him doesn’t including saving him from all pain and aggravation. And I shouldn’t expect him to change who he is. In surrendering to that, I noticed something really amazing.
He always finds what he thought was lost.
July 3, 2012 § 19 Comments
Fish fry afternoon
45 minute walk on inferno cement
to polluted ocean
on flush town border
remember when it was just me and you
tripping on Jules coffee
in our ghetto love nest
with our oven-ette
and three cats?
Diamond district house paint fume war
Feet slap uneven sidewalk
like old tyme moth ball ladies
parasols against the aging sun
save 3 dollars for ice cream sandwiches
and debate the bus ride back to
the center of the lost land
minorities and poverties
in walmart flip-flops and expensive
cars parked in front of
carved from mansions of founding sea fathers
when the ocean was king
not the city
the ocean was king
fishing was king of money
and diamonds were bought with the blood of boats
sweat is also salty
leaving the cast offs now to reclaim
the elemental home as their own
we smelled the ocean every single day,
then the garbage, then the cooking oil
and back in out bed/couch with our bowl/solace
I’d make you dinner and
we’d swear there was nothing
better than two rooms of
our own and freedom
near the ocean.
May 18, 2012 § 6 Comments
He kept them up last night till I got home from overtime. It was like heaven.
“Mommy! Mommy! I got all smiley faces!!”
“Mommmmmeeee mommmeeeee potty!”
She with the blackish brown eyes ran at me and hugged my belly.
The LittleOne ran at me and hugged my legs. A blond and brown pony tail met my eyes as I looked down at my babies, my growing, loving babies that I created. I carried. I care for.
“Ok, back here to finish your stories.” My Love is beaming from the bed, knowing he did a nice, RIGHT thing, proud of himself for lasting ONE MORE DAY as a single dad while I work the 7 to 7 overtime. More money for our struggling family. The little pony tails bounce back to the bed. They climb up, but still face me, chattering like sparrows.
“Mommy, I have a splinter you need to get out.” She with the blackish brown eyes shows me her soft palm, with a tiny sliver of wood in it. My heart soars. I AM the one who deals with splinters. He can’t take it, but moms have to do the things that cause pain to create healing.
“Booboo! Booboo!” Not to be outdone, The LittleOne shows me a fresh shin bruise that I simply must kiss immediately.
Off to get the tweezers, my eyes fill a little. Yes, I’m tired (boy there should be a different word for HOW tired), so a little emotion is predictable.
But really, it was honest joy. Look at all my gifts…
March 26, 2012 § 1 Comment
your drawing of
an ice cream cone and
knew to follow you down hill in
January 31, 2012 § 6 Comments
You bent over,
welcomed a secret
from our daughter
in just the right way–
if only in this–
I gave her more dad
than I had.