Stinker

Literally.

She got skunked.

New smiles ...

... they sometimes take some getting used to.

End Scene

Character motivation: Ecstatic.

Applaus-applause.

Showtime!

Locals ... if you are in town this weekend ... please considering attending Valatie Youth Theatre's production of Seussical Jr. at the Valatie Community Theatre, 3031 Main St., Valatie.

Showtimes are tonight through Saturday at 7 p.m. and Sunday at 1 p.m.

Annabel is proud as pie to be a Citizen of Whoville.

Summertiiiiiiime ....

And the living is easy ...



Unless you are trailing on foot (with a dog who chases squirrels, birds and errant food wrappers) in 90-degree heat.

Then the living is a little more difficult.

Life imitates App

Or so they say.

Silas is golden

Dear Silas,

Recently, I made the mistake of telling you the story of you, including my initial desire of wanting a girl.

You know, so that as siblings, you could do all the things sisters do ...

Share a room ...

And secrets ...

And hand-me-down-clothes.

Turns out you didn't have any idea what I was talking about.

You heard "I wanted a girl," and that was it.

Heartbreak.

It wasn't like that. You weren't a disappointment. You were a happy surprise. I had no experience with brothers, and no idea what an amazing experience having a boy can be.

You were a wonder six years ago today. You are a wonder still.

I know you probably can't take my word for it. My words are always be tangled up with convoluted thoughts

But, as a dear friend once said: "Silas is golden."

And that's pretty much how I've thought of you ever since.

If you don't believe it's true, you can see for yourself.


Love,

Mommy.

Take five, clown

"Hey, mom! Look! I made a balloon animal all by myself."



"I'm going to tell Tots the Clown she can take a break now."

Normal findings

*********
I wrote this six months ago, but I couldn't bear to publish it then. Superstition perhaps? I don't know.
But it's been a year now, and today the findings are still normal. The voice in my head is calmer. I can let it go.

**********

“What are you going to do today?”

And so begins the game.

Twenty questions.

“What was the best day in your life?”

“The day you were born.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“What was the best Christmas present you ever received?”

“You.”

“But I was born a week before Christmas.”

“Still counts.”

“What about my brother?”

“What about him?

“What about the day he was born?”

“This isn't a contest. You arrived first.”

Qualifiers …

They frighten me. Always have.

So quickly our favorite holidays turn on us.

It only takes one thing to change the experience forever.

Life's ups balanced by life's downs.

“So … What ARE you going to do today?” She asks again.

She worries about me. I know I don't smile as much as I should.

The corners of my mouth are always pulling in a downward direction.

Sadly, she's never known me to be overly smiley.

I tell her not to worry. I explain what it means to be a "natural frowner." That I don't want to be a frowner … it just happens.

She's taken to just asking me to translate my expressions.

"Are you upset? Angry? Did you stub your toe?"

“No, no. I'm fine. Just have a lot to do today. Have to get started as soon as you get on the bus.”

“So … what ARE you doing today?” she asks again.

“Oh … I'll putter around; walk the dog, feed the cat, clean up the breakfast dishes, finish up some work I've been procrastinating … get a follow-up diagnostic mammogram … and maybe, if there's time and inclination, I'll go shopping. For Christmas presents.”

I didn't tell her that middle thing.

I didn't really want to think of it, either.

When I counted six months forward from the last time -- the time they found possibly suspicious looking calcifications in an area of my left breast … that weren't there nine years ago … before children … before breastfeeding … before I had anything as big as a family to lose – that put the follow-up smack dab in the middle of Christmas.

Merry-frickin'-Christmas.

My husband was nervous, too.

His questions skirted the issue even better than my answers.

“What do you want for Christmas?”

“I really don't want anything.”

“No really? What?”

“The only thing I want is to not have cancer.”

I can't say such things to my kids.

It's Christmas. And they still believe in all the magic it promises.

I tried to go on as usual. I tried to put it out of my mind, but I didn't. I didn't shop, or write cards. I didn't even walk the dog or clean up dishes. 

Instead I sat in a room with a half-dozen other women – all of us dressed in a kimono-style uniform –

one question bouncing around in our heads: “What if I have cancer.”

I don't have cancer.

The woman with my folder smiled when she told me.

I smiled, too. First time all day.

But can't say I felt enormous relief. Not after sitting in a room with women just like me. Only maybe some of theme weren't as lucky.

#GameofGroans

Summer is coming ...

Found objects

The Champ dug this old, frightening thing out of the bottom of his toy box today:



Though, it kinda warmed my heart to see the old monster pillow back in action, gobbling up LEGOs by the dozens before the interlocking bricks were lost forever to the whirling vortex that is our vacuum cleaner.

I didn't even mind doing a little reconstructive surgery this evening when it turned out the poor critter's gullet wasn't as strong as it used to be.

Can't have reclaimed monsters leaking the building blocks of childhood now can we?

And now for something COMPLETELY different ...

I'll just be hanging out on the porch, waiting for the locusts.

Fancy that

Bagel Tyme.

This guy ...

  "Mom ... Who is this guy?"




"That is John F. Kennedy. He was your grandfather's favorite president."

"That makes sense. He has really cool hair."

What do you mean "uneven tan lines?"

Oh relax, she's fine. It's not broken.

The bad news is: She fell off the side porch this morning and sprained her thumb. She's going to be in a splint (that looks conspicuously cast-like) for a few days.

The good news is: She's going to be in a splint (that looks conspicuously cast-like) for a few days, and her friends will want to know all about how she fell off the side porch and sprained her thumb.

When life gives you lemonade ...

Try to sell it at the end of your driveway.

How to get your kids to stop bickering with two simple words ...

Dance off!

What I learned today ...

I was not cut out to be a stage mom.

Either that or I am the quintessential stage mom ...

So I had to cut out.

Every step we take

We signed up for a spring running clinic last month.

I wasn't looking forward to it, to be frank. 

I like the idea of running ... 

but ... 

After about 10 minutes of actually trying to do it ...

I usually give up.

We signed up because the kids wanted to run as a family.

After yesterday's horrifying events in Boston, however, I've discovered that I'm actually looking forward to the first meet tomorrow. 

I may walk more than I run, but I will be thinking of Boston with every step I take. 

Spring needs to pay up ...

Because it's overdue.

If Spring were a library book it would owe at least five bucks.

And if it were a DVD?

Spring would have owned it by now.