self-portrait during first pregnancy

I drew this for Stupid Daddy in an attempt to convey my experience, late in the game, when I felt like a giant bubble, with all the curves just melding into one.

The truth is, I loved being pregnant, all three times. I even loved the terrible parts.

We saved this sketch all these years and uncovered it recently. I guess I'm feeling a little nostalgic now. Ezra turned six a few weeks ago.

I miss those days, when this little thing I didn't know was growing inside. I miss that sense of endless possibility and potential. And heartburn. And oh, the leukorrea....

I think I'll take the ferry, thanks

Levi: Why do paper boats not float?

Me: Well--

Ezra: I'll explain it to you!

Me: [sigh of relief]

Ezra: It's because the paper is so light and the water is so heavy and the water just pushes into the boat really hard, like woooosh, and then the boat sinks down.

Levi: Oh.

Me: [That explanation will do just fine for these purposes.]

Ezra: But you could tape some metal to the bottom of it and then it would float really good.

kids really use their imaginayshuns!

Yesterday Levi and Lilah came with me to pick up Ezra, and because the weather was so glorious, we decided to hang out on the grounds of the church across the street from school. Lilah stayed close to me, climbing up and down steps, while the boys went off on their own, to be joined, moments later, by another kindergarten boy. For an hour, the three of them explored the area, sneaking along the narrow path between the brick building and the surrounding hedge, running up and down the ramp to the basement, charging across the lawn, jumping off the stone wall--all of it with a sense of incredible urgency.

I wasn't close enough to hear exactly what they were talking about. But there was a lot of "Come on, guys!" and, "This way!" and, "Hurry!" I'm sure there were bad guys involved.

Watching them transform a bunch of buildings and some grass into this magical world, I remembered that there was a hedge bordering our yard in the house where I grew up, and that there was this one bush that created a low canopy I could crawl under. I spent so much time there when I was little, feeling the dried out dirt underneath me, peering out onto our lawn even though nothing was happening, just enjoying the feeling of being hidden in that special space.

It hurt a little, to be so far outside that experience now--that sense of wonder. I wish I could have been truly shocked when Ezra informed me that they found a way to make it all the way around one of the adjoining buildings. I wish I could have had no idea what time it was. I wish I could have looked at the cement walkway and seen a river, teeming with alligators, or a stream of lava, glowing and red-hot.

blank

I try not to let more than a weekend pass between posts, you guys. I know how much I matter to you; I know how your coffee/wine/chocolate milk just doesn't taste the same when you're not spewing some of it on your monitor because of me. Me! And my words!

So I've been sitting here for the last half hour--when, given what a fucked up night last night was, what with the musical beds, and the nightmares, and the kicks to my gut from various bedfellows, and the cats thundering around the room in hot pursuit of each other (though it wasn't really too much worse than any other night around here), it's quite obvious I should have gone to bed an hour ago--trying to come up with something.

And yet, I'm at a complete loss. I'll make sure that tomorrow, something really blog-worthy happens, or is uttered by one of my kids, or occurs to me in a moment of insight. And whatever it is, you'll be the first to know about it, I promise.

nighttime haiku for Miss Lilah-boo

You're very cute, yes.
But it's nine o'clock, so please
Get the fuck to sleep.

kindergarten semiotics

Have I ever told you about baby puppy? It's a game where Ezra is always the mama and Levi is always the baby, and neither of them does anything remotely dog-like. In fact, neither of them really does anything. Mostly it's a game about establishing the rules to the game.

Ezra will say, "Let's pretend you were afraid of the dark and so I had to hold your hand."

And Levi will say, "Yeah, and let's pretend I wanted something to eat but didn't know how to feed myself yet."

And Ezra will say, "Right. And you were thirsty too."

And Levi will say, "Yeah, and I only liked milk. From a sippy cup."

And on and on it goes.

So the other morning they were playing baby puppy, and Levi pointed to his panda bear and said, "And let's pretend I was trying to get my bear to talk to me."

Ignoring the premise of the game--the premise, again, being that you are never supposed to get around to playing the game--Ezra said, in as maternal a voice as he could muster, "That bear doesn't talk, Baby. It's just a symbol."

And then they took a break to read Roland Barthes.

talk about a vicious cycle

On a trip to Target a few months ago, Stupid Daddy discovered you could buy all manner of quality and even organic cereals for a lot less than what the local upscale grocery store charges. So, even though he goes there like once a week, he bought about 25 boxes. You know, just in case Target suddenly closed because it couldn't draw in enough business.

A strange thing happened once all the pantry shelves were so prettily lined with cereal boxes. I started eating lots of cereal--way more than any woman in my advanced age and with my resulting compromised metabolism should be eating. And then, when the cereal supply began to dwindle, Stupid Daddy would return from his next Target trip with a whole new assortment. I told him he needed to stop.

"Stop!" I said.

"I keep buying it because you keep eating it!" he said.

"I keep eating it because you keep buying it!" I said.

Boy, were we ever at a standstill. And now here I sit working my way through yet another bowl of granola.