hello summer

happy solstice.
the beginning of summer.
playallday time of year.
swim. homemade popsicles. sleep late.
and maybe some multiplication drills thrown in for good measure.

bring it.

times have changed

yeah...it was a fun night.
brutal.
but fun!

mary would be proud

making my favorite cookies
that my gram used to make when I was a kid.
ting-a-lings: little mounds of melted chocolate and cornflakes...
cooled on wax paper and devoured in yummy, crunchy mouthfuls.

18 oz. semi-sweet milk chocolate. 5 cups cornflakes. pinch (or more) of salt.
1 cup chopped nuts (i left these out and added an extra cup of cornflakes).
melt chocolate in a pyrex bowl (double boiler or microwave).
mix salt with chocolate. add cornflakes and stir.
drop on waxed paper and let air dry.
devour.

truth

this morning was awful.
defiance from the moment he opened his eyes.
and then, as i signed him in (late) for school,
he runs back down the hallways towards me
and throws his arms around me,
kisses my cheek, and tells me to have a good day.

i am in trouble when he is a teenager.

numbered

this summer has been epic.
the days of lazy mornings,
cousins visiting,
days at the beach,
guilt-free ice cream eating,
river-rafting,
skateboarding all afternoon...
they are numbered.

iced over

trapped inside.
the cute bunny
along with the sad boy
is almost too much to bear

flying

i stop half a block down the street from the school.
i've agreed to let the chop walk up to the corner and
cross with the crossing guard, mr. christopher, all by himself.
i move to hug him after his backpack is on and his mandolin case is secure.

mama...
he whispers, looking around.
people are looking...

this kid.
this amazing boy.

i am so proud and heartbroken at the same time.

sue.

when i was eight, my parents divorced.
eventually, i moved in with my dad and
my brother moved in with our mother.

"if you don't come back, i am going to
move far away."

she used to call me on saturdays and
tell me what a great time she and my
brother were having in florida.
eight-year-old me listened as she told me
how they played in the ocean all morning
after a breakfast of pancakes and hot chocolate.

i saw her when i was eleven.
leaving my dad and his new wife in maryland,
i spent the summer with sue and her boyfriend.
that is the summer that i first tried pot.
her boyfriend's oldest daughter, eighteen,
and i rolled the joints in our shared bedroom
and smoked them every day.
all day.

that fall,  i told her that i didn't want to stay
for the whole summer the following year.
i didn't hear from her again.
not one card. phone call. visit.
nothing.
she was angry with me.
i was dismissed completely.

years went by.
seven years.
middle school.
high school.
heartbreak and celebrations.
accomplishments and downfalls.

i contacted her when i was eighteen.
i drove to my grandmother's house to surprise her.
by the end of the day
"fuck off" was the last thing i said to her.
she replied with the same.

i tried again after my father died.
i was twenty-one.
and for eight strained years, we attempted
communication.
"have a nice life" was the last thing she said to me,
angry about the relationship i have with the woman who raised me.
she had only animosity towards the woman who took care of her daughter
and made sure she was loved.
"have a nice life."

that was almost twenty years ago.

i have often thought of writing to her.
asking for an explanation.
or calling her out on being selfish.
and hateful.
and fucked up.

i wanted her to know that i am doing everything
in my power to be the exact opposite of what she was to me.
that i love my child and am a good mother
regardless of the model she provided for me.

at almost-forty-eight, i wanted her to
acknowledge that she missed out
on all that i am.
i wanted her to know that i do have a nice life.
i am creative and am surrounded by amazing people
and have a fantastic child
that is part her.

have a nice life.

it crushes me to imagine
walking away from the chop
in the same way.



sue died one week ago.

while i was celebrating my son's seventh birthday,
she was in an emergency room.
in georgia.
she died before they could treat her.
she was 75.

in some crazy way,
i imagine her reading this
and having closure.
for both of us.

seven

this boy,
at the beginning of each day,
puts both hands on my face and
kisses my cheek.
"good morning," he whispers.
wrapping his arms around my neck,
he hugs me hard.

this boy.
full of intensity
and loudness.
he feels deeply and thoughtfully,
his heart swells with and is sometimes crushed,
wanting to be understood and heard
in a world of big people and knowledge.

he loves
his mama and papa,
his family,
his dog,
his legos and stuffies.

he is a rockstar.
an artist.
the world's best snuggler.
and egg cracker.

sweet boy, i don't know how i ever came to deserve you.
you have saved me from giving up on this crazy world
and have filled my heart like i never though possible.

proud? that doesn't even begin to cover it.

happy birthday, sweet baby chop.
you are going to rock seven. i have no doubt.

goodbye kiss

mama, i want to put my oscar hat on so i'll have braids, too.

that's sweet, baby. that will make a good picture.

i love you, mama.

and i love you.

*pause.*

you know, it's ok if you don't want to kiss me goodbye
when i take you to school.
i know it's because you don't want the older kids to think
you're a baby.

that's not true.

*picking him up to stage the shot.*

ok. it is true. 

*click*



"and in the end,
we were all just humans...
drunk on the idea that love,
only love,
could heal our brokenness."
-f. scott fitzgerald

heal

this yuck that has attacked my immune system?
it's goin' down.
i don't have time for this.

for the next 30 days, this mama, and the chop,
does not have health insurance.
(prayers for health appreciated.)

19 more days of living on the edge, people.
ten plus nine more days of wrapping the boy in bubble-wrap
from head to toe and making sure his mouth guard is in place.
a little more than half a month for the state to believe that, in fact, 
trader joe's is really not covering me anymore.

so sure, i'll drink to my health.
filtered water only, please.
and could you pass me an apple?

  
to see my 2014 one-a-day project unfold, click here.
to see photos from the other fabulous people who are taking the journey with me,
click here.

christmas eve

the most magical day of december: christmas eve.
you can feel it in the air;
feel it in your energy;
in your heart.

it's not about the presents.
it's about people.
it's about the love.
near and far.

merry christmas.

preparation

countdown

a little bit of chocolate as we count each
unopened, tiny door.
six days.
six wake-ups and santa will have been here.
six.
six days until paprikash fills our bellies
as we savor the last days before the new year.

date night

baked chicken eaten with our bare hands.
advent calendar chocolate for dessert.
hot toddy for mama.
and tomorrow?
we're hoping for another snow day.

saturday

pancakes.
mandolins.
gingerbread and icing.
and horse feathers.

what a full day it has been.

this

is what i've got today.
no words
trying to be clever
or funny.
just this.
and i am happy with it.

how about you

mama, do you believe in santa?

i do, yes.

zahari, in my class, she said that santa isn't real.

what do you think?

i believe, mama. i really do.

of course

me: baby, what do you want for dinner?

chop: bacon, ravioli, and egg nog.

i have created a monster.

every little bit

all morning we snuggled in the big, green chair
at camp nitza while we watched shows and read a few books.
we drew pictures and played with legos.
we ate popcorn and drank warm almond milk.
with swords and capes, we conquered a few bad guys before
i said, "i need to take a shower and get ready for dinner."
(i was meeting friends downtown.)

but mama, i want to play candyland.

i promised we could play one round after i showered.

after i rinsed the shampoo from my hair…this:

mama, i will move your guy around the board and take your turns for you.



he really is so stinking cute.
and i soak in these moments because i know
that too soon
he will not want to spend so much time with me.


#naphopomo day 30.