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.

serenade

and then...at the end of that crazy day (yesterday)
I told Mercury (who is in retrograde)
to shove 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.

girl time

boys. movies. kids. jobs. plans. dreams. weather. love. burlesque. desserts.
sex. food. loathing of fake plants. parenting. schools. tantrums. cameras.
*insert anythingandeverything here*

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.

almost 8

these days, i try and scoop him up as much as he will allow
because soon, he will be too heavy.
and too cool.


one month from today, he will begin his eighth year.
jeez louise...slow it down.

how summer rolls

summer is about saying yes 
when friends invite you to grab midday nosh 
and ride around the harbor. 

iced over

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

i want to be seven, too.

mama, do you want to play bear-ninja-cowboy?
it's just like rock-paper-scissors...

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.

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.

again

the long drive is over.
car unpacked.
bedrooms selected.
flip flops on and you're  running.
running because this is what you have been waiting for.

this.

when you finally get to this point, you know the healing will begin.
the waves remove the worry and the stress with each crash.
the ocean is the starting point.
again.

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.

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.

evah flesruoy a yrrem elttil samtsirhc

the last two days have been so stellar.
i have nothing to say and everything to say.
so if you want to hear about it, call me.
or not.
just roll around in these images and then go.
go find some magic in your incredible day.
or night.

peace out.
(until tomorrow).

beans

try one bean.
that was all i asked him to eat.
then..i caved and asked for only half of a bean.
dipped in maple syrup.
half of a bean became one quarter
with a meatball chaser and only a few tears.

veggies.
jeez…

followed by pirates,
opening the christmas cards that came in the mail,
and digging out the ornaments from last year.

the beans forgotten.