Playing Favorites

Right as I was sitting down with A in her rocking chair, after all the pomp and ritual of the bedtime routine was over, she announced that she wanted to kiss her brother. Since she was already exhibiting signs of extreme fatigue, and we were already past the point of exchanging kisses with family members, I deflected by saying she could kiss him tomorrow instead, but that it was too late for tonight, expecting her to forget as soon as she was tucked in.
Naturally, five minutes later, she was still asking to kiss her brother goodnight. She then proceeded to explain: "I want to give him five kisses, because he's my favorite boy."
I'll give you one guess as to whether she won that round.
I'm a pushover, yes, but gosh, that level of cuteness is difficult to combat.


She is Mighty

I talked with my sister last night about our respective careers.  Listening to her talk, as always, I am stunned by her intelligence, her compassion, her kindness, and above all, her passion.

No one in my family lacks strength in our convictions, nor do we feature low on the ferocity scale. But my little sister is the most passionate person I know. She's always had the family reputation for taking up the cudgels in an unlikely someone's defense, and she has made a life out of that same fierce drive. Don't ever get into an argument with her, for you will likely feel not only stupid,  but as if you're the greatest monster on earth.  She speaks so eloquently, and with such fire, that I envision her legal opponents crumbling before her. I definitely would/do (it's very humbling, since I'm older, and therefore should be correct by age alone!).

I'm so proud of her, not only for the career she's chosen, but for her belief in it. She makes the world a better place in the best way she can.



When you were small, I observed to my mother that my reflexes were faster, better trained, clumsy/awkward girl that I was before you. You see, I spend my motherhood trying desperately to catch you - an outstretched arm, a wild grab. Don't trip, don't fall, don't run away, don't grow up. But you don't wait for permission, and you don't slow down to allow me to catch up.  I've never been ready for the being that is you (although how could I ever have been prepared), your energy, your love, your life have always caught me by surprise. It was not an option, I couldn't fail, I couldn't ever be less than you needed, and yet, I cannot ever succeed in being what you deserve, this endless parent-sized paradox in which we find ourselves. Thus, you dragged me along out of my childhood, and into yours, you old soul, you wise babe. And now, you have my long legs, and my passionate arguments, and my bleeding heart, and you run farther out of reach, with your height scratched ever higher on the door post, with your long legs, your likes and dislikes that are no longer reflections of mine. I struggle to keep up, but you'll always outrace me, a small, fierce sun just over the horizon, but lighting the path back into grace.


Hugs are pretty awesome, after all

Last night, as I was cuddling with and singing to A before putting her in her bed, she suddenly threw her arms around me and said: "I love your hugs, Mommy. They're so squishy."

I laughed so much that she kept repeating it, which obviously just made me laugh harder.

Having a toddler is hard work (and I'm not even the at-home parent!), but good grief, they're so cute.


Book Lover

On my desultory way home from work
I saw a book on the sidewalk
A simple paperback novel
No identifying marks at this distance and speed
No nearby potential owner searching with purposeful steps
Only words on pages fluttering aimlessly in the sweltering sun
How did it get there, this literary discrepancy?
Thrown, perhaps, in a fit of pique at an unwanted turn of events
Or discarded as trash due to uninteresting tales
Fallen out of a bag, greatly missed later
Perhaps this was someone's only treasure
Or an excuse for unfinished homework
Now lying, incongruous, where books are never placed intentionally
I hope that it is claimed by an appreciative finder
I can't bear the thought of words unread