A bit overdue.

Dear Lia,

You finally let me put you down so now it's time to catch up on your letters. Can I even remember back to November? How little you look!

Lia, my dear, you are now six months! Just a few days ago (er, since I wrote this part in December...) you rolled forward off your butt and did one knee crawl. Now you just plop onto your belly, but you are quite a go-getter and nothing will keep you put long. You especially enjoy standing at furniture and free falling into my arms when you forget to hold on. Even in the thick of a very nasty cold you were the most active and smiley baby ever.

People remark on your smiles nonstop. Bella was quite the same way when out and about, but it turned off at home. You are just a neverending ray of sunshine, content to be yourself. When I lay you on the bed to sleep you open your eyes, lift your hands and raise your shoulders in a shrug, toss your head back and forth, smile blindly, and drift back off to dreamland. And instead of the breathe-in squeal, you have finally figured out your full belly laugh. Oh how wonderful it is.

What's new in Lia-land? You love to watch me brushing teeth or knitting and can't help but reach for the needles. Go figure I can't find Bella's taggy blanket since you are currently infatuated with tags and string.

Oh my goodness, Grabby McGrabsalot. You grab my neck, my hair, my nose, my lips (ouch), my belly chub, whatever you can get your hands on. You pull me to you and hold on so tight that I now understand why people refer to their babies as koalas. With your free hand you are karate chopping away, and your presence can be quite dangerous.

You've got a new case of Anemone Hands, swaying in some imaginary current as you sit and take in the world. You're yogurty as usual, and just when I think it's safe to go out, you spit up just enough to spoil both our clothes and perfume us with that delicious spoiled milk fragrance. I wonder why no one has bothered to bottle that stuff up yet?

What is there to say. Time is flying at break neck speed. I mean, obviously. It's January and I'm writing your December letter. You're just always there-like a time elapsed movie in which a busy crowd runs all around you and you just chill in the middle and take it all in.

We went on a train ride to Oregon and you were no trouble. You caught a horrible cold and smiled through it all. Things just seem the same until one day I look down and realize you're toes are stretching to the tips of your jammies and your hair is filling in. Days sort of blend into one another and nothing seems to change, but it does. Continually. Only the first few sentences in the above paragraph even apply anymore.

Love, mama

(P.S. Actually you cried yourself to sleep and I just went in to see you and felt kinda bad because you had kicked yourself off my bed into your bed three inches below, and no one came to comfort you. I'll make it up to you, promise!)

P.P.S. Sorry for the photo overload, but I didn't do any posts in December and had a lot to squish into one letter!

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Flight

THIS



fills me with joy. Bella learning to jump has brought me back to the days when I did it regularly, and seeing her in the moment my heart takes flight.

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9000 someodd days and counting

Dear Bella,

Once upon a time you were very little and you fit in the nook of my armpit. Actually, that used to be your favorite way to sleep. Once you got over your colic and we could lie down at night, you always ended up there, no matter how far away you started out. As you got taller, we grew into one another so that you were always the perfect fit.



In the months before Lillia was born I was panicking because you had become attached to me like never before. In the middle of the night you would wake up screaming and even if I was ten inches away, you cried as if the world were ending right then and there.

Now Lia spends many hours a day in my arms and you are in a Daddy phase. He does bedtime, and when you wake up at night no one can calm you but him. If he's not in bed, you wander out into the dark of the house, plodding along behind your sleepy feet, calling out for him. You always have been a Daddy's girl.

Last week you woke up from a nightmare and wanted to sleep on my front like you used to. I cherish the quiet cuddle times you give me now, as they are few and far between. But instead of resting on my breast, your head came up so high over my shoulder that you couldn't get comfortable. How did that happen?

I don't know where we stand right now, you and me. We are at such a crossroad. Oh how I love you; oh how you make me work for it. You fell so hard this month and all you wanted to feel better were nursies, forget that it's been almost three months since you even asked last. I knew you still wouldn't remember how to nurse, but something with that familiar position, lying sideways, looking up from that familiar angle set you at ease.

At the beginning I used to compare Lia's nursing to yours. Now even looking at a photo of you nursing I can just barely remember. I sat there holding you, completely lost; I might as well have had a giant teenager stretched across my lap. I had no idea how much you had grown and I didn't know how to make you fit.

We're both working on that. Where do we fit? Whatever Lia is doing, you want to do the second she stops. Sometimes you're her big sister, and sometimes you just want to be the baby. You've even invented your own gibberish language just like a baby. (Thanks to nightly recitations of Fox in Sox.) The rest of the time it's amazing to hear what you have to tell me. You say So, um, incessantly and are perfecting my exasperated sigh. You call the tassels on your hat fingers, and your free flowing speech gives us amazing an insight into a world where nothing is boxed in. Just the other day you recognized when we rounded the corner to the cousins' house, and you know when you are in our neighborhood, too. If you are walking, you're dancing, and if you're dancing you're jumping. Your world is outstanding.

When I picked you up for nursies that day, I guess I hadn't realized how long it had been since you let me really hold you. I don't ever want you to feel so foreign to me. From now on, we'll grow up together.

Love, mama

PS. Don't blame daddy for the focus on this shot. He got the focus just right in all the ones where you are rolling your eyes at me and stuffing crackers in my face. Maybe he just loves my snazzy ponytail.

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this

this is bella's version of nap time.



tonight bedtime took an hour. (not two.) and there were no fights, no tears, no testing the waters, no screaming. it was perfect. even with an hours' worth of "one last sip of water".

last night she slept through the night til 6am. today i only wore her for ten minutes before she napped.

and tonight was bedtime bliss.
at this rate we might just catch up on all our lost sleep.

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to my girls

Happy July to you, girls.

You get to share a letter this month (I imagine that you will have a lot of that concept to get used to anyhow). What a month it has been. Apparently when you have two kids, time goes by exponentially faster.

Bella, darling. I don't even know where to begin with you. You need me so badly and it is agonizing to see you in such turmoil. To see you reaching for your independence in so many little ways , and wanting the unwavering security of mama upon your return to earth. When you need me, it's overwhelming. You climb on top of me, grab me, and cling so tight that I seems like you want nothing more than to return to my belly. Sometimes I'm not there, sometimes you fall and my hands are full, sometimes your body gets out of control in a tantrum and this new baby keeps me from coming to your rescue, sometimes I have only half a lap for you to sit on, sometimes there is someone else in my arms at bedtime and it shakes your world to the core.

After nights of you screaming endlessly for me, crying yourself hoarse, worried sick to the point of vomiting, Daddy and I switched sides of the bed so you could feel me at night, so you could fill your own cup all night and not wake up feeling like you were stranded on a desert island. So you know that I do still love you. I was afraid you would wake me up every hour, since I know you still do, and then I would have two hearts to feed at night, but I was wrong. You stir, and reach for me, and that touch is enough to send you back to dreamland. It's just enough that I am there.

We battled all month, head to head, screaming, tantruming, hitting, and I'm ashamed to say these words describe me, too. Bedtime is still often a nightmare, but something finally clicked for me in the daytime. It's okay that you need me. It's okay that you hug my leg as I walk around the house. It's okay that you hop out of the stroller as I am pushing it because you need to be in my arms at that very second (even though I have to put you back screaming and crying and thrashing because, really, I don't have THAT many arms). It's okay that sometimes you glare at me and turn away when I finally do have a moment for you. It's all okay, because we're figuring out how much we still need one another. We're figuring out how to work that love into every little crevice throughout the day, and we're figuring out how to not resent each other for our love. We're going to be okay, I promise.

As for Lillia, my sweet. Bella calls you Lia, so while we call you Lily when we are out and about, you are Lia at home. Did you know I did that on purpose? Bella, too, and some day she make pick Izzy instead. Lillia, you are something to behold. A princess, really. Quiet, sweet, and calm. But make you uncomfortable and you squeal and shriek and whine. And don't bother trying to nurse you if your belly hurts or you are sleepy. Your entire day is spent searching for calm and equilibrium.

You are still a fan of the baby dive, pitching yourself sideways whenever you are upright. You are not terribly social yet - mostly you gaze around and often you make faces of utter panic so that we glance behind us for an axe murderer. Nope, that's just your thinking face. You're a mama's girl, which still surprises me, and will calm the moment you reach me. I have always treasured your sleep smiles, and now you are practicing them while awake, too.

You hate the car, and will scream yourself purple (so you sound like a dolphin) if you are awake. You are finally letting me wear you as long as your legs and head are not confined and you are tilted to the side. You're much more of a wiggler-mover than I am used to. I have a feeling you will be on the move the second you can. You still love your sleep, and every night that you fuss I cringe that tonight is the night you turn colicky. But so far, so good. Except that you sleep like noisy pig, and it's taking me time to learn which noises I can ignore.

It's hard not to compare you to your sister and I worry that her current antics will overshadow your babyhood, but fear not, you are paving your own way with quiet stealth. On occasion you stop and look at each other and I see a connection that I will never fully understand. I look forward to the months and years ahead as your sisterhood blossoms. To witness it will be magical.

I love you both more than I could ever imagine,
mama

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so go the nights

Days have been pretty good. Even the ones where I'm alone
(except yesterday, the "come home early, hun, i'm about to lose it" day). Of course we haven't tried anything exceptional. Naps are still pretty elusive for Bella and we've resorted to the ever so eco-friendly habit of driving around in the car.

Nighttime lately has consisted of one or the other off us putting Bella to sleep, which can take between 20 minutes and two hours. Then around 3o'clock Lillia wakes up to eat, we switch sides of the bed and Bella wakes up out of a nightmare and starts thrashing and screaming and inconsolably for me (unless you're me, in which case she touches you and goes limp into a deep, sobbing sleep).

The night before last was a missed nap night (which you know is disastrous going in). Bella fell asleep after about 45 minutes with Dave and woke up an hour later when I came to bed. She crawled up next to me and Lillia and lay there awake (but remarkably still) for the next half hour. Then Dave came to bed, put her back into her bed, and she woke up crying for me. Since it was a rational, awake cry, and Dave was completely keeping his cool, I let him handle it without me rescuing Bella. She sobbed for two hours before finally letting Dave cuddle her instead. He had to hop into her bed to get her to sleep.

I sat by and listened the whole time to those heartbreaking cries. The ones that make you want to run to your baby. The ones that remind you of the times that you cried so hard because you thought that you would never get to be with someone again. No, it's not the end of the world, but it sure feels like it.

No matter how much I fill this girl up during the daytime, its nighttime that she needs the love. That is something that I'm still not sure how to handle. Society tells me to kick her out of our room and let her cry, that kids are resilient and she'll get used to it. My mama instinct tells me that she is a sensitive soul that might not get used to it, and why should she have to? It wasn't her choice to add another person to this family. Sigh. No nap yesterday (fireworks through the day and alllll night) and none again today so we'll see how it goes. At least I'll have Dave home by then to help.

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Sleep: boos and woohoos

Woohoo!: 8am bedtime has been in place for two weeks now. It rocks. After three nights of crying torture (re: 30 seconds of crying then sleep, or a minute of crying, 10 more of cuddles, then sleep), Bella has taken to a bedtime like Nemo to Pixar.

Boo.: Whether Bella is rising earlier now that she is caught up on sleep, or whether she is rising with the sun, it is hard to tell. Praying for the former so that we do not wake earlier every day. [updated: now she wakes up about 6 times a night to throw a full fledged tantrum, so she's back to sleeping in til 8... hmmm.]


Woohoo!: Bed time is no longer my sole responsibility. It was for about 21 months of Bella's life, and now Dave can easily put her to sleep and we have time to ourselves again.

Boo.: I find myself staying up way too late and still having to wake up at Bella's new early hour.


Woohoo!: We figured out that Bella needs an earlier nap time (see above, duh. we're brilliant), and now she wakes up when it's still light outside.

Boo.: Actually, we've only been successful at this new naptime twice. All prior attempts at napping resulted in hours of tantrums and often no nap at all. But here's hoping the streak will continue!

Woohoo!: We got a stroller! That reclines! Yaaaay! Now Bella can settle down for a nap while I get exercise, instead of wasting our time in front of the tv or computer or just lying in bed.

Boo.: Well, actually, it's still a novelty to her and not a nap inducing device. The only time she has fallen asleep in it was during an hour-and-a-half-long walk. Not sure I'll be able to do that every day. (But here's hoping...) [update: today she fell asleep in it after just a half hour - it's working!!]

Woohoo!: I now get to watch my little bear fall asleep willingly by herself in her crib (still our bed) after copious cuddles. This is MY novelty and I'm in love. She's fought sleep since day one, quite literally getting combative over it. Sigh, I could watch her drift off to sleep for hours.

Boo.: Nothing, actually! Now when she wants to drift off in the rocking chair or cuddling, I don't mind indulging one bit. The belly still makes room, and she's only going to be my littlest baby wanting cuddles for so many more weeks. Sigh.

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Sleep deprivation, cause and effect

December and January where I work are as busy to me as March and April are to accountants. Let me just say it's starting to catch up with me.

1. Load laundry directly from hamper into dryer without noticing. Do not pass go, do not collect $200.

2. Lose First Felting Project Anxiety after husband hides knitted pumpkin hat in diaper pail and it emerges clean and perfectly felted. Worry that any intentional felting will not live up to these expectations: Knit. Forget about. Find felted results while folding diapers.

3. Remind teething daughter that you are always there to protect her by comfort nursing her each hour when she cries out in her sleep, clawing at you to escape from unknown monsters and pains.

4. Lie awake into the wee hours of the night next to aforementioned daughter, fully aware of how beneficial sleep would be, instead contemplating The Meaning of Life the Universe and Everything to fill the few hours until you must go to work.



5. Neglect to properly set 4am alarm. Or turn it off while sleeping. You'll never really know which as you jam pants on while you stuff food in your mouth and run for your car.

6. Find ecstasy in a sunbeam and a child-free nap. Make sweet snoring love to marshmallowy pillows, bury self in feathery goodness and wake up delightfully refreshed 15 minutes later.

7. Realize that although 15 minute child-free nap = 60 minute shared nap, it's still only fifteen minutes.

8. End list at eight items because your brain is too tired to know what else you've done this week, and editing out the numbers would be too labor intensive.

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Another prime number...

Happy seven months, Isabelle. Seven. Why does that number seem so much larger than six? It must be the way we round up to the next full number once we are half way there. You are past the half way mark, closer to a year than to being newborn.



I saw you goofing around in a towel on our bed after our bath the other day and I did a double take. For a moment I almost didn't recognize you. I asked you what you did with my teenie little baby and you just laughed and proceeded to stuff as much towel in your mouth as possible. You're over twice her size, and on very rare occasions I get a glimpse of the newborn that used to be, but the squeaks and stretches and expressions she made disappear a little more every day. To look at you now is to peek through the window at the person you are becoming, at the child who will laugh and run and play and throw torrential tantrums and cry after a bump on the head and come to my lap for just another cuddle.







This month you showed us that you know your name. You've given up on crawling and tummy time for now. You'd much rather be standing anywhere, and although you haven't figured out that you can move your legs yet, you can stand all on your own for quite a while. You also decided that solid foods were not for you. I should have taken your picture at our first attempt. Of all the things that you willingly put in your mouth every day, you could not possible believe that I would offer you something so vile. Each time we try the tiniest lick, be it sweet potatoes or apple sauce, you gag and wretch until the texture has dissolved or been spat out.




You also found several new noises, including raspberries, gagging sounds, and various other guttural sounds I could never in a million years reproduce and simultaneously retain my dinner. You've taken to playing with your blocks, pulling them gently off their posts, knocking them together and tossing them all around the room. It seems you have finally learned about baby gravity, and are employing it expertly.



You cannot possibly imagine what an exciting month this was for the world. The United States elected its first black president. What an election. It would either have been that or the first female vice president. I have to say I'm excited about the potential of our new president to create a gentler, greener world for you, but only time will tell. If anyone asks where you were when the first black president was elected, you can say, Starbucks. We spent the day lazing about as a family and spent the evening glued to the internet for updates.



I'm hoping before you are grown people will come to their senses and stop stripping happiness from their fellow citizens. Among other things, this election made gay marriage unconstitutional in California and banned adoption for unmarried couples in Arkansas, fully aware that gays cannot marry. I cannot begin to imagine your future, but I can only hope that these decisions are righted so that no matter what lifestyle you follow, you will be able to be with the ones you love. No one should be able to take that right from you. Why do we feel the need to regulate love when there's barely enough as is?



You are my definition of love and I whisper thanks to you every night for finding me.

Each night we fall asleep together and I scrunch down with you in the covers so I can rest my nose on your hair, my lips on your forehead. What was once corn silk and then peach fuzz is now the softest of feathers, wisps of angel hair that tickle me as I fall asleep, breathing you in and out.

Yesterday you were babbling away when you suddenly paused, said ma ma to your toes, and then kept right on talking, clueless that those two meaningless syllables could make my heart leap out of my chest. Or perhaps I'm wrong and they weren't accidental. They could very well mean scrumptious in Bellaland. After all, that would be quite applicable to your toes and me.



I love you, baby. From your piggies to your nose, and don't you forget it.

Love, mama

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tgif...

All in all it was a good day, now that I am looking back on it.

Of course, I say this at 11:30pm with a bright awake daughter squirming in my lap, tracing my hand with her fingers and feeling up my keyboard.

The kiddo did not sleep well last night. And as I sleep within several inches of her, I also did not sleep well last night. She kicked and wiggled through every dream, woke up but refused the boob, and squirmed herself back into a restless sleep. My legs are nearly shredded from her vicious little toe nails.

I wish I could say that I'm used to functioning on minimal sleep, but I'm not. That's why we co-sleep, so mama's diner is a self serve buffet all night and I don't have to wake up for a thing. So I blame everything that follows on my lack of sleep.

Dave and I went across the street to pick blackberries for scones this morning, and I intended to turn the stove down low so my rice would simmer away merrily fluffing itself in our stead. Intended to. The full meaning of that phrase hit me as we approached our apartment, and only then did a distant shrill beeping sound register in my mind. Dave dashed the rest of the way, bravely turned off the stove, opened all the windows, and threw the pot on the porch while I paced embarassedly outside and explained to our very concerned upstairs neighbor (who was running towards me after having just informed the office that we might need help) that this was a simple case of bird brain and burnt rice. To which he replied sweetly, "Oh man, totally, I know. I love rice, too."

I suppose not every rice eater will make such a catastrophic mess over the course of their culinary career, but it was a nice gesture of comfort from The Dude Upstairs Who Is Moving Out This Weekend.

So as I tried to regain my composure, Bella and I went inside. I offered her the toilet, knowing she had to go after such a long walk, but alas, no takers. We sat down to nurse where she promptly sighed and peed all over me, missing the diaper completely. At that point, I looked down and realized (having forgotten to take off my shoes in all the smokey excitement) that I had dog crap hanging in globs off my sandals, and God knows where else I tracked it in the carpet.

So a lingering smoke headache and a 15 minute sanity nap later, and I was finally ready to make those damn scones. Mmmm the batter looked perfect, and everything was wonderful. Twenty minutes after popping them in the oven, I ran to the kitchen, panicked that I had forgotten my burning scones. But they were still gooey and fine, as was my new rice, happily burbling away on the range. HALF AN HOUR later (the recipe says 20 minutes, mind you), I jumped up from nursing Bella and ran to the stove in a panic. Had I missed the smell of scones burning beneath the pervasive scorched odor now polluting our apartment? Alas, no. In fact, they were still gooey, and the poor rice was drowning, not fluffing. After much grumbing and dreading a broken stove on my behalf, Dave found that the breaker had been flipped. That has never happened before, ever.

Hmm, needless to say, work also sucked tonight. When it rains, it pours.

But when I got home, Bella could not wait to see me.
It's the same each night, but it never gets old. She is so excited that she flings her arms and legs straight out. She would fly right to me, if it were not for Dave restraining her. And woe to the person who is holding her if I try to walk away once she has spotted me.

We sit down and nurse (I think my bra actually sighed audibly), and as usual she is too happy to see me to concentrate. Too giddy to nurse. She stares at me, giggles, goes down for a sip, and comes back up again to make sure I'm still here. Just checking, Mommy. I spent all night without a bit of you. All the while her face is plastered with a perma-grin. No wonder she can't nurse properly, how could she drink anything with that smile ready to leap off her face right onto mine? She truly cannot take her eyes off me for more than a second, and I'm bathing in her piercing gaze. She's adoring me and memorizing me all at once.

Still, an hour later and I'm starting to wish she were asleep. She's twitchier than Bunny and delirious with fatigue. She's so social it's usually impossible to nurse her to sleep but it's late, so I try. I close my eyes so when she looks up at me she might take a hint, or at least won't be encouraged to play. But as hard as I try to ignore her, she tries harder to get my attention. Drunken milk-moustache smiles turn into wiggles, turn into squeals, turn into stacatto squeaks to get me to look at her. Who could resist such an invitation? Mom, hey Mommy. Yoo hoo... Over here. You've been gone all night, and I haven't filled back up with you yet.

Me neither, kiddo, me neither.

We spend the rest of the night grinning and drinking each other in. Indeed, if for nothing more than this moment, today has been wonderful.

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Sometimes you feel like a nut

We have a mysterious unexplained occurrence happening right around the corner adding excitement to our every day lives. The Almond Joy Caper.

As I walked down the road one day, I saw a candy wrapper. Litterers, I thought. At least they have good taste. Then I noticed that there was a trail of wrappers and it led to a pile. Perhaps it accumulated over time.


The next time I walked by, someone had cleaned up the roadside.

But the next time I walked by, the mess had returned.


This pile disappears and reappears weekly, and I have enjoyed watching for it under that little bush along side this four lane road. It's one of those stories that is too bizarre to believe without seeing. My imagination runs wild with the mystery of it. Is it one kid or more? Are the candy bars stolen? Has anyone ever noticed as they pass by on this busy road? What is so special about that little spot? Who cleans it up each week? Mostly though, I'm driven by WHY. What is it about this person that he has to sneak away to devour candy bars beneath a tree, but then leaves the wrappers for anyone to see?

~~~~

A common exchange when I chat with someone who has heard I have a baby:

Is she sleeping through the night?

In the past I generally have replied no, but the looks from that response (gasp! choke! you would admit to such a grave issue?) are almost worse than acknowledging that we share the bed.

Actually, since we sleep together, it's not a big issue.

(Long pause for processing: a. they sleep together, b. baby still nurses at night, c. what is this mother getting herself into?)

Oh, how's that going for you? How long are you going to let that last?


Honestly, it's not really an inconvenience. Isabelle does not cry at night, we rarely even wake up longer than the time it takes to get her nursing, and then we sleep-nurse. I cannot imagine being without her at night. It pains my heart to think of her having to go to sleep unwillingly without me. I love to hear her dreams and feel her breath, watch her stir from time to time. I love to roll over and know that she is right there, in the nook of my arm. I have dreamed of this time together, and it is anything but a problem.

We don't co-sleep to prove a point, we do it because it works for us. I have nothing against the mother who is not getting enough sleep and is at wits end and the baby is up all night nursing and they're restless and neither one really ever gets into a deep sleep so mom finally throws in the towel and puts her baby in another bed or another room and they sleep happily ever after. Do whatever works. She was there when her baby needed to be close and transition from womb to world. She did not make her baby sleep in the cold night out of range of any human presence. She tried what worked and when it no longer did, she changed. Right now Bella and I are in a place that works. She misses me while I am away and we get to snuggle and reconnect all night. When that stops working perhaps we will change.

~~~~

A post at an unschooling blog has brought up the interesting topic of mothers rejoicing that school is back in session, so they are free at last. Whether they believe that or simply just say it to save face, it is a stinging reminder that when you are a parent,

Your life becomes simple and monotonous

You can't wait for moments without your children

Or at least that is how society perceives you. It is hard to break through to the idea that children can be great companions, and helping them grow and learn makes being with them even more fun.

There is nothing in this world that I would trade for all the time that I spend with Isabelle. I do not want to look back and regret not having her near when I had the time. What strikes me as odd are the looks of disbelief (you let her fall asleep on you? you don't ever have her in a stroller? you sleep together?) I get from mamas who also have lost pregnancies and more. I suppose I offer myself to them, imagining that these are women who would break any norms in order to appreciate what they finally have in their arms. So their lack of understanding catches me off guard. Why would I purposefully distance myself from watching her live and grow up? I have dreamed of her all my life, and she is more perfect than I could have imagined. She warms my pillows, my shirt, my soul, and I will take all the cuddling I can get while she is still offering.

I never imagined I could miss someone so much even for the few hours that Bella and I are apart. I enjoy work as a chance to refresh myself, but I really enjoy the time that Bella and I are together. I hate that society does not see children as people worth spending time around and we are expected to become tired and annoyed by them. Yes, life with children can become tedious at times. You might hit a stride and forget to enjoy yourself, start resenting one another's presence. But I do not want to be that parent who cheers when school starts up again. I look forward to finding engaging ways to teach Bella myself. Don't point at me and laugh in that jaded way for dreaming of loving my child for who she is and enjoying the time we spend together. I plan to soak up every moment of her short childhood, and relish in watching her grow.

~~~~

Every few nights I draw a hot bath and I lock myself in the bathroom and slip under the steaming water for no less than half an hour. My back, my brain, my being, they all get a rest. For that span of time, I have no cares in the world and I escape. When all the stress of the day has washed away and I have nothing left but satisfied memories, I race through the actual cleaning part, hop into my clothes and head back into the real world, eager to see my family again.

~~~~

Sometimes I envision the Almond Joy Caper as a mother, slipping over her backyard fence while the kids are engrossed in the sand box, a small knapsack of her favorite treats in tow. She squats next to the bush, transformed suddenly into a child hiding in the cupboard after climbing on the counter to steal the cookie jar. She looks around, tries to hide herself from the traffic and the dog walkers. She can hardly wait to unwrap the first one, but savors it before devouring the rest and casting aside the wrappers. After her guilty moment, she returns to her yard smiling ear to ear, refreshed enough to jump into the sand box and enjoy playing with her kids.

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