Wouldn't that be fun?

You wrote a story for Little
and turned it into a book
with sweet crayon sketches of bunnies
and words printed carefully yet carelessly.

I was thrilled—and so proud.
"It's wonderful!" I gushed, examining pages.
"I want to save it forever."

"You don't save all my books..."
At once a statement and question
with a touch of mild accusation
in your tone. Or maybe that's
just how I interpreted your words.
"Maybe Saturday we'll go swimming, hmmm?"
 I ventured. "Wouldn't that be fun?"

#6WF

Halfway Through Summer Happy

Bee-stung, bug-bitten, tangled, scratched, scraped, sweaty, sandy, sun-blocked, bug-sprayed, chlorinated, bruised, driveway chalky, sticky, drippy, watermelon-y, streaky, sun-kissed, bike-greasy, tanned, bare-shouldered, bare-bottomed, bubble-covered, slightly burned...

...halfway through summer, and so happy!

Not Quite A Secret

5:40 p.m.

Big: Is Mother's Day on Friday?Me: Nope. Sunday.

Big: Yay! Yay! Yay! 'Cos I need to bring it home from school and I can't do that on Saturday because school is closed and could you imagine going in to school on Saturday just so you could bring it home and then you'd get stuck at school?

Me: Huh?

Big: I can't tell you.

8:13 p.m.

Big: So there's Friday. And then Mother's Day is Sunday.
Me: Yes. Time to go pee.
Big: You can make me try to tell you what I have to bring home on Friday, but I won't.
Me: Please go pee now so you can go to bed.
Big (skipping in the opposite direction of the bathroom): I won't tell you! I won't tell you! I won't tell you!

8:45 p.m.

Me: What are you doing out of bed?
Big: I can't sleep. I'm scared of the dark.
Me: C'mere. Let me rub your back.

8:46 p.m.

Me: How's this?
Big: Mommy, do you know what sashay is?
Me: Like the dance step?
Big: Yes.
Me: Sure.
Big: And it smells so pretty, right?
Me (confused for a moment, then): Oh, sach-et! Yes, those do smell very pretty. You sure you want to be talking about this?
Big (with a gasp): No! No! No!
Me: Don't worry. It's OK.
Big: Yeah, you'll probably forget before Sunday, anyway.

My life is a Seinfeld episode.

All Charged Up

Charged on my credit card today:

Two backless booster seats--pink, natch
"Pure" sunscreen that probably is not
A Mother's Day present for Mom
End of year gifts for teachers

I'm just living the American dream.

Listening So Well

For five days I did not
wear a watch
use the phone
check my email
(OK, maybe once)
watch tv shows

For five days I spent time
with my friends
listening so well,
to their rhythms:
both the familiar
and the new.

Thank you, Kate, Amy and Laura,
for five days.

Offered

She licked her lips, eyes closed
as the tower of beanbags toppled.
But this time she tried again,
smushing and stacking, one by one.
She could do it, she knew.
Even though a crowd was watching
her worst nightmare—failure—playing out
in front of dozens of people,
she ignored her instinct to run
into my arms or lash out.
She finally topped off the tower.
Her cheeks reddened as everyone applauded.
A circus trick her teacher showcased—
something she taught him, he said.
In return, he offered a glimpse
of who our girl will become.

Facebook Guilt

A post I saw on Facebook:
There are 940 Saturdays between when
A baby is born and when
she leaves for college. At 5,
my eldest has already used 260.
The youngest's burned through about 90.
My first thought: How terribly sad.
Then: Not all colleges start exactly
the same weekend! And what about
taking a gap year to travel
Europe or the Outback or Argentina?

That number's not locked down, right?

Please be more specific, Facebook.
I need to know exactly when
to be overwhelmed by the guilt
of missing out on Saturdays passed.