My birthday gift

You’ve crossed an unspoken threshold: from a little girl to just “a kid”. From my baby to my big girl. As I watch you fall asleep, here on the eve of your sixth birthday, I am reminded of that little baby we brought home, with her perfect little rosebud lips, deep blue eyes, curled up little fists, and shock of black hair. Now you are all long limbs and tangled blonde curls, with the same lips, but eyes that have lightened to the color of a summer sky. Your tiny pudgy legs are now long and lithe. What used to squirm, crawl, kick and wiggle now dances, runs, leaps and twirls. The tiny fingers that used to clamp over mine while holding you close now have fingernails painted to look just like mine, dirt from today’s recess beneath them, and red fingertips from the markers that didn’t wash off after art class. You now use them to write entire stories and draw incredibly detailed pictures, when once we thrilled when you understood the difference between a circle and square. The cooing, giggling and “mama” has now become an amazingly mature, throaty voice that recites the Pledge of Allegiance, sings every pop tune on the radio by heart, and, when paired with rolling eyes, speaks perfect exasperation with every “Moooo-oooom!” My little baby in pink sundresses and matching hats now requests capris and boots, dresses with flip flops, and insists that her black legwarmers with the rhinestones go with everything. In the eyes of my baby girl, I saw an incredible future: one of laughter and love, of hope and sacrifice, of faith, disappointment, bravery and hard-earned lessons. That girl could be anything she put her mind to: a doctor, a humanitarian, a CEO or a superstar. In the lighter blue eyes of my big girl, I see the same…even moreso now that her incredible personality is becoming alive inside that tall, graceful body. You tell me you want to be a ballerina and a veterinarian. You also want to be a mommy of twin baby girls and someday travel to Vietnam, to meet the family of a schoolmate. Tears begin to form when I remember back on that gift that God let us borrow from him, that beautiful little angel I carried. Mine alone for nine months, sharing everything, perhaps even a bit of my soul. I only let them fall when I think about the gifts you give back to me every single day. Happy Birthday, my beautiful girl.

Happy Birthday to me

Ah yes, you may all send me good wishes and love now. Why else do people post it's their birthday? Oh, and I prefer Fannie May Chocolates. The ones with the buttercream centers. Thankyouverymuch.

Ah, naps

I am rediscovering the joy of the nap. In fact, this is my ONLY day off with no kids underfoot, so after they went to school, I came back, crawled into bed, and slept another three hours. Ah, bliss.

I never understood those who do not enjoy a nap. My almost-six-year-old, for one. She gave them up at age three.

I, however, have always loved to sleep. I was the first one out at slumber parties (don't ask how many bras I've had frozen), the first to want to go home and crawl into bed after much festivities out at bars, the girl who scheduled college courses so I could fit a nap in between lunch and my 2:30 MWF Theater History course.

Damn, all this talk of sleep has me tired out. I think I still have a few hours of rest before I go get the kids. My other option is cleaning this pit of a house. Nah...the cool and comfy goodness of my t-shirt sheeted bed are calling to me.

so *this* is why I can't stand it here

I actually belong here!

You Belong in Amsterdam

A little old fashioned, a little modern - you're the best of both worlds. And so is Amsterdam. Whether you want to be a squatter graffiti artist or a great novelist, Amsterdam has all that you want in Europe (in one small city).

What European City Do You Belong In?

I was in Amsterdam. Twice. Suprised I remember so much of it.

So I succumbed

To the dark side that is myspace. I started going there when friends told me that you could look up your little cousins and see if they are selling their bodies and posting maxim pictures. Then I found my alma mater and a few old friends. Then I got my own page. Then I brought in movie graphics, a soundtrack, and God help me...blinkie icons. Yes, there it is. I now have blinky icons on my new myspace page.

And I can't stop playing with it. I keep going out there and stalki...I mean, looking up old flames, old enemies, old professors. It's addictive.

As if I needed one more diversion on the internet that I really don't have time for.

If you want to see the proof of my sick, sick, sick addiction, you can find the link to my page on the right.