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Archive for September, 2015

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Categories: Reflections Tags: , , , ,

Weekend Coffee Share: Caught up in now

If we were meeting for drinks, I’d tell you over sparkling water that I don’t have much new to say.

I already wrote about having lost my fear. And I told you–granted, in a post, but you’ve told me you read those–about my son’s sixth birthday party.

What I can tell you above and beyond that is how surprisingly exhausted I am today. Half the people attending yesterday’s party were friends and parents from Li’l D’s new school, which made it hard to feel at ease for at least the first hour. My very first interaction was with another mother telling me she doesn’t believe in spoiling kids. She eyeballed the bounce house we’d rented as she said this, her implications hanging heavy in the air between us. Read more…

One very happy Tribus

Another day,
I might choose
three very different things
meaningful and moving to me.

Today,
my older son
held his sixth birthday party.
So, today, these are three things
so prominent in my heart
it’s impossible to think
much beyond them.

Indeed,
why would I want to?

Bubbles

My senior year of college, I took a stress relief seminar for upper level credit. I didn’t expect to get anything more than credit from it.

I smirked when the instructor said rainbows and bubbles both ease stress. Sure they do! But when she brought out bubbles and rainbow pictures, I realized she was right. I was absorbed completely by rainbows and especially bubbles, which shine rainbow colors in the right light.

I watched bubbles drifting through the air today and felt that calm rippling through me. I watched my toddler, Littler J, try to catch bubbles Ra blew and thought how perfect life is made by seemingly simple things. Read more…

POOP, or the power of words

“Poop,” my eighteen-month-old son said to the wall a couple of days ago.

I stopped in my tracks. Were these random sounds, or was Littler J trying to tell me something?

Just in case, I set him down on his toilet seat before pulling over his tiny table and a couple of toys. We played together over the table for a few minutes before he waved both his hands near his face to to say, all done.

I was overjoyed when I saw he’d done a fair amount of business while we played. I was glad he’d gone to the bathroom in the toilet for the first time, but that was a fleeting thrill. There’re months of potty training ahead!

I was excited by that single word: poop. Read more…

No longer afraid

Something enraged me last month.

This story isn’t about that something. It’s about what happened afterward.

I told my husband I was enraged. He didn’t get why, saying multiple variations of, “It seems reasonable to me.”

I was floored. “Understanding this is so intrinsic to understanding who I am, if you don’t understand what’s wrong with this, you don’t understand me!”

I sometimes forget he wasn’t there for my mother’s full descent into schizophrenia. He is so intrinsic to my now, I feel like he’s been part of my every now. History says otherwise: He was there only for the very end, and then mostly from a distance. Read more…

The Sisterhood of the Waves

At 2:35 p.m. on March 4, 2011, I soared over the ocean in a Ferris wheel.

I seldom remember what I was doing any given day, let alone any hour or minute, but this was a moment I needed to spend laughing.

My mom had died one year ago that very minute, and I wanted to make sure I spent that minute’s entirety remembering not how my mom died, but how she lived. We’d laughed together on that Ferris wheel on her one vacation. That very same trip, she’d shouted for me and Jay Leno to get a “chin shot, chin shot!” on account of our mutually sizable chins. Read more…

music and love

times past
bled together yesterday
at the skilled
coaxing
of music

i was 14 years ago,
sweeping my mom’s room
while listening to
sarah mclachlan’s
“i will remember you”
over and over and over again
so i could remember it
and sing it well
for my silver star
at my last karaoke night with her,
my last night in oregon
before moving to los angeles
on a greyhound bus Read more…

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