donut holes

the other day we
really did peel a tree
while waiting for the train at the village
grace said it was "peely." i was tired. it was hot.
the man in the carriage asked if we wanted a ride and i had to say no
we were guzzling country time lemonade, which has no lemon juice in it at all, just corn syrup and an ungodly amount of sugar.

tonight i am
wondering why my body
and soul are not on the same page.
why my ears are throbbing and my neck tight
and why the labs show better than normal results, even my iron is high and i am always low,
always low
the doctor said it could be ovulation;
i think i remember last month it being
uncomfortable
i laughed when he told me i wasn't pregnant
i laughed because my ex was in the room with our daughter
i laughed because i know i'm not pregnant, i know that well.
my ex graciously turned his back when i had to strip down for an ekg,
and my body felt like it had never been his
like he had never seen the simple break between my breasts and the
ridges of my ribcage there
or the marks on my side from having been
pregnant
and now
not

i nearly passed out while driving to work today - thank god i was just a few blocks from my house and i managed to somehow pull over before losing it entirely - i am sure my knuckles were white, gripping the steering wheel and pressing the brake pedal and praying to anything to not.black.out.while.driving. i didn't black out. i was extremely dizzy, my heart started racing, i was shaking, and then sweating, and then nauseous for awhile. we spent 4 hours at urgent care, the nurses misplaced my labs, the doctor gave me donut holes, and i got sent home with this diagnosis. essentially, my heart slows down due to stress/worry/something. well...

i painted today, all i have wanted to do is paint.
i grated zucchini from the garden tonight, so that i could bake the bread that i am always too tired to bake
i did laundry this morning, and cleared out the closet; there was more in there - old, dirty cloth diapers (months old, really, disgusting, from when we lived in the house - now you know my secret)
i made enchiladas and didn't eat them until they were cold and buried in sour cream
i am drinking enough water to sustain a large pond of fish, i think.
i have spent more time with grace's dad this past week than i have in a very long time, and i am immensely grateful for this
and i still feel like crap.

the other day we peeled a tree

nobody goes in
you should see this full size

if i had a baby
vintage insides
i could make this
shorter, cuter, more honest people
like this shop
i want to make a chair like this
flowers in cups
birds
you share first: on parenting (read the comments)
love this shop, reminds me of matthew and amanda
saw some soft cotton yarn at hobby lobby and i kind of want to make collections of washcloths, like this shop (napkins for brittany's wedding??)
love this
might try and make this soon
been thinking a lot about this lately
detroit summer school success
a little piece on coffee names...i really dislike having a barista at starbucks take my name for my cup. i've actually overheard a snotty and sarcastic "why" in response to "can i get your name?" (the barista said "smiley face? okay cool. i'll put smiley face.") i get the point - i've been the barista on bar when someone walked off with someone else's drink - but really? i want to use something funny, like "sunshine" or "bird." (illustrate, please?)
garage sale negatives (i haven't listened to this yet)
i want my living room to look like the first picture...makes me wonder if there are hardwood floors hiding under this carpet.
gypsy party. love all the fabric and patterns. i want my backyard to look like this.
happily

i am sitting on my folded out couch listening to the ceiling fan and nothing else, silence, my eyes are tired and my lower back is twisted, pushing inward. there is an apartment building that runs alongside mine and the second level balconies are right near my window and the people who live there are loud - not inappropriate, like, not yelling drunken stupor...just loud, happy people. last night, they were very loud and happy, still, at 345am. i shut my window. i spent the night torn between anger and guilt for lack of patience - really, it's their balcony, yeah? what if i wanted to sit in my backyard and talk at 345am? i could, right? maybe not. they do this most nights, though last night was by far the worst.

there are a hundred things that i could be doing (should be doing) and i usually push through these tired days, but this week i have been home, i have been here, i have been ignoring the list. i told myself to stay home more, i have food in the fridge to make and i have baskets of craft and it's hard, i feel like there is never enough time. i have one more class, monday, and then nearly 4 weeks off before the fall semester starts. i desperately want to take a vacation and unplug, dig my toes in the sand, drive for several hours until i feel unwound, unspun. i want to fill the walls up to the ceiling here, so that it makes a sort of enclosing space, a place that wraps you up and slips its leafy arm underneath your back so that you can rest, burrow, work on pleasures that sustain. living in a house with bright, bold walls created a sort of instant warmth, and here the walls are white and the carpet is worn and i have pushed everything against the perimeter of the room and it reminds me that i am a horrible interior decorator, an awful designer, i am better with small things and browsing other people's work.

i have been deep in thought, about parenting, about relationships, about what we invest in something versus what we expect to get out of it; we have a new coworker who is having a hard time catching on and we are frustrated, tired, and another coworker pointed out that if we expect him to improve, we have to believe in him, we have to support him because he will not get there if we don't give him the means to do so. yes, this is applicable to every corner of my life right now. dear child, you will not understand boundaries (in the absence of physical boundaries like having her own room or more space) if i don't take the time to look in your eyes and strengthen the threads that tie us, you will not hear me if i do not make sure you know that i hear you. we are studying in philosophy the higher pleasures versus lower pleasures - this is simple and i have been translating it to material goods and where we choose to invest what we earn (and it validated my want to spend more time at home) surplus surplus, more. i live in a town with many thriving local businesses and it is easy for me to invest here. i love the thrift stores, but i am building a nest and lining it with things that matter, things that provide more than instant gratification or lots of things for cheap. things i can take with me for as long as i am alive. (this then makes me think: what do i want in this life?) i am sad to see this class end. i have been making a point to write every day in a journal to prepare for fall; i am beyond excited for my creative writing class.

i want to rant about modern poetry and how i have a hard time finding poets that i like, poetry that is not rushed or addressing the busy-ness or that reminds me of the suburbs and strip malls. i want spirituality. i want depth. i want to find this in writers who are still living, writers who can connect what once was and what we have now and this is how we will revive a dying world. i was at the bank this morning and before i left because it was kind of ridiculous to have a line of 15+ people and one (or no?) teller on a friday afternoon - the woman behind me was loud and pissed and bitching at her maybe-9-year-old-son who was holding a giant blue slurpee and he was looking for validation and she was too busy shouting about how awful it was that she had to wait in line and "oh my god, please stop touchingthisdoingthatsittinghere god." i tried to smile at the boy but the mom tried to smile at me and i didn't want to smile back at her because she was mean and i wanted to save him, i wanted to just touch his hand for a second. this is our poetry. it reminded me of poems we read - of suburbs - of a billion businesses and busy roads and cries for something more, we are hungry and we write on things that could be captured in a photograph, can we write more than this? the planners and do-ers. i know why we don't write more - what is there to write about when everything is at our fingertips? what do you get for the man who has everything?

so this is how you pray.

mary oliver and a thank you note - the sort of things that mean the most to me

things i want to do today:
go to ikea
go to the antique market
go to the consignment shop
go to the thrift store
lay in a hammock
make hats
finish my entire semester's worth of homework/exams
read the rest of this mary oliver poetry book
wash the dishes
pick up erasers and carve more stamps (a tree, perhaps? cats? birds?
plan a trip to either yellow springs or traverse city (this morning i am drinking higher grounds ugandan peaberry, i would like to please pack up my things and move up there right now.)
check out the garage sales around town and completely ignore anything of importance, such as homework/work/cleaning/sleep.
edit all the photos from the last week or so (grace's birthday, the dia, etc.)
order new earrings (eh? yeah? need?)
make a tattoo finishing appointment?
haircut.

stamped

things i will probably do today:
pick up my contacts and look (again) for new frames
make my car payment (thanks payday)
work on a hat
finish a quiz
touch the same page in this mary oliver poetry book that i read last night, the end of this poem really got to me, especially as i am curled up in a cozy place thinking about the rhythm of breathing and the way our fingers wrap together
pick up erasers
mail lisa's notebook
daydream about a vacation
check out a few garage sales
find and/or order both elizabeth mitchell albums that we have been singing constantly even since returning them to the library
spill coffee on myself, at least once
look up prices for cable/internet (which means i'll need a tv?)
order prints from flickr
think about how i should probably hang a clothesline out back since the dryer only half dries things.
dote on all of the plants i have been given to watch - two of my neighbors are on vacation and both of them brought me their plants and asked me to watch/water/eat them - i am giggling at this because it is like being a crazy cat lady, except with a surplus of plants, all with specific instructions, all at once. i am the plant lady.

the best part about living here, i think, is sharing laundry and space. i went to put the towels in the dryer and the kitties were there waiting at the steps, meowing. sweetie cats. on my way back, i picked this zucchini.

nom.

lastly, some a b c's from two party girls:

dreams and happy threes.

i woke up early this morning and after twenty minutes or so, remembered this dream i had. i dreamt about a spanish man, soft brown skin and deep brown eyes, he was taller and i was shy. i can't remember what he was talking about, but i was deeply moved, and my friend urged me to go introduce myself. i said no, and continued to stare; i was enamoured. i don't remember what brought him to my side, but he came to say hello and i introduced myself as a writer and we immediately began this electric conversation, energy spilling from our fingertips as i started to take notes on the city sidewalk in coral colored chalk as he spoke softly; i was smiling, somehow managing to hold my composure and play the role of sensual woman and he fell in love with me then, undeniably so, and i knew it, i held it in my hands like i would a baby bird. he was impressed with me; i was sure of this and it was fragile but his eyes looked so far into me that i took it, drank it, i let him draw me out. he was a stranger, a traveler, a twentysomething student mind; my hair was long. then, we stood in the kitchen of a house together anticipating a goodbye, frantically searching for time to cling to before he would catch his plane back home.

happy birthday little bug

grace turned three today! we had a party yesterday evening at a park nearby; food and friends and lots of playground time, even a very cute dog.

more here.

owl

laundry

i want my hair to look like this top picture

i want to wear this every day

and when it is hanging to dry with the clips above, i will wear this.

love this whatever it's called, cabinet?

best of dogs!

orange couch.

love the photos here.

feather

really like this print; check out the interview here. this painting too.

love these pictures.

today was hard; i am tired and grace has been...well...three. i may even go as far as to say that three, with it's stinky feet, attitude, and unwavering persistence, blows "terrible two's" right out of the water. however, it also brings these moments of naked joy and giggles, and the ability to diffuse anything with this song:

taken as she was vacuuming up the play dough she threw on the carpet.

pssst. i stamped a journal for lisa.

bare cupboards

dear grace

on almost your third birthday (we are 4 days away now), i am seeing you someday holding a violin to your chin, delicately running the bow over the strings and quietly turning the corners of your mouth up into a smile, proud, pleased. i am hearing your rainboots hit puddle after puddle and you are squealing with joy - we should puddle jump more often, you and i. i am reading about the importance of learning to assert yourself, you, as a little girl, as a very sponge-like soul...and me, as a grown woman, who seems to lack the courage to voice my thoughts - i choose discomfort for myself over making another feel off, as if i can read their mind and know that he is not also choosing the same (he was. do you know you are safe here?). i am watching you hold a pen and thankful that you were not born so many years from now that the only writing tool you know is a laptop keyboard (that you will probably learn from me regardless, what with the speed at which i can type versus how fast i can write my thoughts out before i forget them - will your mind be too fast for your hands too? can we slow down?)




i am imagining you as you grow older, get bigger; sometimes it is hard for me to understand you now, i have never been good with preschoolers, i feel like a million loose ends and i am completely unsure where to attach them. you are too big for me to carry everywhere, but you are small enough to still smell good (although your feet stink sometimes and they didn't do that so much one year ago) and to still have soft furry baby places on your back and you are small enough to still need me to wipe your butt and small enough to need a sippy cup. you roll around a lot in your sleep, and you talk, and you grind your teeth all night and it is awful. you sprawl out across the entire bed, and you are indecisive, and you want to be near me but then you kick so much and we are both fighting for balance.sometimes i wish you would listen to me easier, to hear me and understand that what i say is good and kind. i am glad that i know you enough to give you things like water and craft projects so that you will unwind, unravel, come back down here. sometimes you seem so wound up and high that you are a kite and i am the lone string holder running through the grass.




it is not often what i have to teach you; rather, what you have to remind me - you wake my soul, because as adults we are prone to letting our souls rest longer than they should, what with work and dirty dishes and busyness and all.

on this saturday evening, i am unwinding after work, watching the fabric fish picture we made blow in the breeze from the fan. i am listening to my neighbor upstairs walking, shifting his weight along the floor. i carved my first three stamps tonight and spent the morning before work crocheting a hat in bed. i am tickled by small things like grace's oven mitt placed carefully on the top of her vacuum handle so that it looks like it wants to shake your hand; by notes left in my door from neighbors with drawings and sad reminders that there is moving to be done, moving on, moving out. there is a giant tapestry with a buddha gracing the wall above my couch: james had said "i didn't know you followed the way" or something like that, and i shrugged my shoulders, not sure what to say in response. i don't. i don't follow the way. i follow conviction, i suppose, i follow the things that are undeniably outside of my own creation, the things that make my feet curl and my chest sweat. there is not a way that i follow that i must remind myself of when i wake up every day. there are many ways, to an end that is uneventful: from the earth, back to the earth. i believe in centeredness, i believe in seeking things that are lasting, fulfilling. i believe in the harvest, and in the cycle of life. i believe in intuition. i do not believe in fate, nor do i believe in atomism or something less spiritual and more scientific. i am content with this. there are things that nourish, and things that do not. i am after the promising ones.

feather

(amazing) wood block stamps

fantastic bathrooms

a new blog to read

and another

i very much love this dress

i am currently reading this and eating this. (i had never seen an avocado tree, even in a picture).

smasheverythingtogether

compiling links, using evernote (not sure what i think, yet), writing paragraphs in notepad windows and anything i can get my hands on while we're out. totoro is playing (finishing, and starting again), and grace is asleep. tonight we baked molasses raisin cookies after going out for a walk and finding a bunch of bigger kids to play with at the park - they took her in like family and the biggest boy took her down the slide a hundred times, high-fiveing her each time and the middle girl (maybe 8) was the mother, saying "sweetie, sweetie," while i wandered around like this sleepy, cranky woman with smooth hands, eventually i climbed up too and crawled through the tunnel. the youngest boy didn't speak well, but he liked my tattoos and wanted to know where i got them. he was like grace, immediately clinging to the closest human and introducing himself and taking their hand. it was the most holy of park experiences. we went after it rained and the slide bottoms were wet but the wood chips smelled like summer and i don't know why we don't go there every day. i felt like i was pulling threads together - silky, satin like threads, carefully woven and intentionally placed, hesitant to lay myself out there but wanting to feel his hands on my back and an adult chest breathing against me because i am tired and unsure and wavering.

we spent nearly two hours at school earlier, settling transcript issues and taking a placement exam for spanish while mi quierda amiga sara sat with grace (who was asleep). after this semester, i have 59 credits. i will likely be taking 14 this fall and have made the decision to take on school full time and work part time. this i will be discussing with my lovely place of employment on thursday. grace will be in preschool there with me. past this semester, i have no idea; i am a bundle of nerves and fear and worry and more threads, thick strands this time. i've actually been able to write a letter today and sit down with my yarn for a few minutes - i also made pizza for dinner (and burned it a bit) and the cookies. i washed some dishes. we had lunch and coffee at sara's (who lives with arika) and in the middle of our meal there were police outside looking for someone who had robbed the house across the street in broad daylight. lunch was eggs over-medium, rice, and avocado with sriracha (and soy sauce for miss grace). there were lots of kitties to love and sara's nikon d90 which was heaven in my hands. arika's garden has two massive squashes (they look like spaghetti squash?) that grew in her compost pile. really.

what happens when i play with sara's camera. more here

my garden here is doing well - i brought in some lettuce tonight, and 3 of the 4 tomato plants have fruit (tiny and green, but fruit). my herbs are thriving and something keeps eating the okra i just planted, but nothing else seems to interest the culprit. my pepper plant has one big green one and a smaller guy with a few others looking like they may start soon as well. i was reading that egg shells can give calcium to plants, and am thinking about making a lot of eggs(?) to create some egg shell compost.

yesterday we spent some time at the library and brought home several books and two new cds (not nearly as fantastic as the last), one book in particular that caught my eye called "seasons" by blexbolex, a french artist (i had to look it up). i also brought home a mary oliver collection of poetry and am sitting down to read it every second i can (i also had time to read a little today!).

love this doll.
super love this shirt. wondering if a large would be too horribly big for me.
yes please. unisex small.
best of kids rooms on design*sponge; notably this and this and this sneak peek.

my room is the coolest place in the house right now - likely because we've had the oven going (oh goodness, DTE...i am afraid to look at you) - this is never the case, so i am enjoying it fully. grace and i have had a lot of alone time this week, intentionally, and she's been in such a mood that has left me feeling entirely defeated/offended/desperate/worried. she's also been a peach, and hysterical, and sweet, and smart...but the extremes have been so distant that i am literally pulling my hair out and finding myself reluctantly growing detached from the family unit i have committed myself to, the continuous cycle of give and take and promise and love and hope - it has been flat and frustrating and i have enjoyed the solitude (gratitude, so thankful for the solitude), though also have swallowed company happily like a person feeling heavy thirst and through all of that, silently hoped for a simple thing: balance. tenderness.

i ordered some carving tools from stampeaz and am expecting them soon, along with a twin rear bike rack among other things.

with that, i will leave you with a single announcement, and i am going to wrap myself up in blankets:

nashifeet.etsy.com, after much debate and thoughts over closing entirely, has decided to remain OPEN and offer FREE (domestic) shipping as well as everything $25 or less, always. i like my shop. i sold more when i put less emphasis on structure, and we needed a change. by we, i mean myself, and i am also still consigning at eclectic attic until further notice.

this is now in our living room.

a letter to my daughter, 7/8/10

dear child of mine,
i just came home from work, and i am turning the air on for myself, just for a little while. it is hot and muggy in here. i was looking for the card reader to the camera and thought about how someday, i will be able to call you and ask you where it is - and you'll know, not because you hid it or were irresponsible, but because you are just good at remembering things like that. i will call you because you are my best friend, and someday you will truly understand those same words that you shout at me from the chair you are bouncing on while i try and explain how you are making me nervous doing all of that jumping on an old rocking chair. "i don't make you nervous, mama! i'm your best friend!" i came home to a sweet letter from a friend and there were such kind words, one key point that i misread at first, saying that it is especially every mother's work, to strive for that elusive balance - see, i read it as "share that elusive balance," which i think is very true as well. i hope that you know the importance of handwritten word, child, i hope that you remember the way we marked our calendar today and i hope that in spite of the time you spend playing video games and watching me learn through internet classes, that you also know how to write and how it feels to hold a piece of mail in your hand like it is treasure, gold, solution that cools the hot and heavy heart. yesterday, our uncle passed away, and you did not know him - though you may have said hello on the phone at christmas time. i feel strangely at peace about this - in the sort of way that my gut undeniably tells me that there is a place were our souls live on after our bodies give way or fail. there is an immense sense of peace here. as my day went on, i started to remember a dream i had last night, a dream of a swollen belly, hard from being expanded by a little one inside, feeling the feet press against the center line. i dreamt about the stretching of the cervix and the softness of my body as this little one was born, only the dream ended before any baby came out. it was slow, beautiful, song-like. how strange to dream of the most joyous, uninterupted, wholeness...while this person, this man who was not old, this brother of your grandpa (who is my father), both sons of a tender woman that shares your name and the color of your sweet hair...while he lets go of a broken body and joins hands with his parents who passed on years ago. how surreal it must be for my dad, who has now seen both his parents and his brother go - we are all that is left. i thought about things that would make me happy today; i resented the fact that there isn't someone to share the day with, to take over in the evening so that i can go to school/work/something (because sometimes i want to work on tuesdays!), someone to split time with me, someone to be the  moon and the tide and the sun at all the times that i am being one of the other two so that the pull is right. i am tired. i am deciding that thursdays just plain suck. i want to be wrapped up; held, cocooned. thursdays are long, no matter how hard i try to make them happy, easy, i am desperately working my way into your sweet head and hoping your eyes will catch mine just right and you'll see, you'll understand that as proud of yourself as you are for knowing that thursdays are for nama and daddy and that you have three houses and nama's is the biggest, that my freckled face stings and i am never not thinking like a mother, never escaping that place, never for a moment not thinking about the way you smell or how your own freckles were starting to appear or if your teeth need to be cleaned better and how i forgot about your last juice box and if you see me as something more than this busy lady curled up with a computer at every possible moment of downtime, reading, thinking, planning. did i give you enough to fill your heart? do you feel whole? do you feel cheated for having to go back and forth between homes and experience life in chunks of 3 and 4 day stretches? do you feel like i pay enough attention when you want to show me things like your paw prints around the backyard after playing in the sprinkler? do i look long enough so that you feel validated? did you have fun at the market this morning even though it was insanely hot and i had no patience with you wanting to do everything by yourself? the only time i can shut it off is when i can't keep my eyes focused anymore and i'm rolling around in my bed trying to find the cold spot on the blanket and pillow. i will wake up several times and re-enter that place of motherhood, even though you are not here. last night, i picked you up and laid you down in my bed for awhile, like somehow we would find eachother if we were within close proximity and out of body. i look for you in the stars. i find you in the morning sun.

but one thing's for certain

How many times have you heard someone say,

"If I had money, I would do things my way."

But little they know, that it's so hard to find

one rich man in ten, with a satisfied mind.

Money can't buy back all your youth when you're old, 

a friend when you're lonely, or peace to your soul.

The wealthiest person, is a pauper at times

compared to the man with a satisfied mind.

When my life is over and my time has run out,

my friends and my loved ones, I will leave there's no doubt.

But one thing's for certain, when it comes my time,

I'll leave this old world with a satisfied mind.

But one thing's for certain, when it comes my time,

I'll leave this old world with a satisfied mind.

satisfied mind - jeff buckley

if i don't empty these links from my internet window, i think my laptop might explode. really. i have been saving them since last week.

very
serious
cargo
bike
lust.
my friend susan has a madsen.

i'm not vegan, but this pasta looks amazing.

i got this cd from the library the other day, along with one called "family tree," and both are so sweet. our library is pretty awesome - there is a puppet show area in the children's section, and some beautiful painted benches. i love children's literature...i could probably bring home several truckloads of books (if i had a cargo bike...) just for the pictures alone - i can't draw well, but the illustrations are incredible. moreso, i love the rhythm of the stories and the cultural ties in traditional children's lit. everything is magical, whole. we read one about the moon following behind the little boy like a kite. we checked out two dora books and they've come with us out and about, but we also brought home a few others that we read at bedtime, and i'm looking forward to finding more. i forget that the library here is open until 9pm - monday, we went later on in the evening to get a movie and the cds and it was a nice finish to the day. speaking of library...brittany has this great book from the library right now (i am so stalking the shelf so that when she returns it, i can have it next). the only oops i noticed in the book was a page on yellow springs, ohio - they labeled it as yellow springs, colorado! i have a picture of the knitted pole and grace in front of the art gallery, and i definitely have not been to colorado ever in my life. i would love to do something like that here in plymouth - i think it would go over pretty well. at the very least, i could do my backyard! and my bike!!

i would love this bathing suit, if it was anywhere near what the shape of my body actually is. i have $99 to spend on amazon from textbook trade-in and i so badly wish i could use it on etsy instead. look at this handlebar bag.

there are two women whose blogs i read and whom i follow on twitter as well and they both blow me away with their ability to retain their respective identities while also parenting (partnered or not). there is also a beautiful momma who runs suburban harvest here in town and she and i had a great talk today about raising children and marriage when your partner is not the father of your children. part of who i am are the choices i make as a mother, my day to day life, and how i choose to spend it. i have been feeling so paper thin, diluted, absent - unable to reach that place where mother and person are one, always my search, always. this is kelly diels, a writer. this is rachel jones from on the round, whose yarn i have had the pleasure of working with when lisa (another great woman) sent it to me to make her a hat. both of these women are able to get so much done! i live for the kind of conversation that katie and i had earlier at the market. that, and guernsey lemonade. good thing she can provide both.

these are the tomatoes i am growing.
loved this post that boho girl made about her husband for his birthday.
art therapy in a homeless shelter.
farmworkers - take our jobs.

i am off to a full night of geology class - an exam, two labs, and a video. my living room is finally arranged enough so that it feels right, though it is messy, and there are dishes coated in french toast batter and who knows what else in my sink. grace curled up on my leg and fell asleep while i was writing this (after she pooped on the floor, twice.)

paintings.

battle of will, no. 1038970987

or, i just want a peanut butter sandwich and i can't get it because my kid's bed is next to the kitchen and if i have to put her back in bed again because the first 300 times of doing it weren't enough i am going to end up eating an entire loaf of bread and jar of peanut butter out of pure self pity.

maybe it's the sun, the summer, the heat. maybe it's that i have absolutely no clue as to how to enforce bedtime when one's "bedroom" is an extension of the living room (but then, why is shutting one's child in their own room at bedtime a proper way of enforcing anything? and not that i was ever good at enforcing it anyway?). maybe it is that i can feel my most sensual and rich self while playing duck and shark with her in the bath, and then my most unattractive and defeated not quite 30 minutes later while trying to insist on bedtime so that i can try and finish this quiz, try and have a minute to read, or even take a shower because my legs are itchy from bug spray and mosquito bites from yesterday. maybe we need evening walks. maybe not.

i keep returning to a conversation i had once with my friend rachel, about teaching your children to obey out of love and respect and nurturing that kind of relationship - one that has roots in respect and  honor to the role of mother and child (or father and child). i want her to go to bed, for example, when i say that it is bedtime and do so because we act out of love - she should obey immediately out of respect (sometimes i dislike this word) and understanding that i am the decision maker in this house. she should also feel that her thoughts and ideas are valid and that if she, like tonight, just wants to be near me for a few minutes before bed, that she can absolutely let me know that and i will happily take care of that need - when it is made known in a clear way rather than misbehaving. perhaps it is many nights of showing her that i hear her - in the same way that when her father and i are on common ground, the ease in which i can let her go into his world and let her stay days beyond what is usual without feeling tense (and oh, how much it kills me to let her go for even a day when we are not connected). repetition. i see that this soothes her little heart when she is tired or wanting to come down from the day. i see this in water pouring, snipping, painting.

excuse me while i eat a peanut butter sandwich, now that it is nearing midnight and the monster (affectionately so) is at rest. i know this is not a battle fought solely within the confines of single parenthood. this is universal; this is intuitive parenting. this is when we begin to lose ourselves in the demands of such. there are days when i, past putting the pigtails in my hair and some sparkles on my cheeks, subconsciously check out with the person i reunited with in dreams, before she woke up - dear body, briefly touch base with your soul - and go about the day with my eyes focused on everything about her. my stomach muscles are clenched. my shoulders are tight. i am tired. it is not even noon.

repetition? persistence? at what point can i say no, go play by yourself, i am doing this other thing that makes me happy and you are interrupting and it is rude? are young children really ever rude? they are at least not malicious...she's not interrupting to be a jerk, she's interrupting because she needs me/potty/food/acknowledgement/something else extremely important to a three year old. i also do not want to teach her the game of put-whatever-i-can-in-front-of-you-so-that-you-stop-screaming. sometimes, i remind myself that she will keep growing, she will some day be 7 and 8 and 15 and she will not be 3 forever and i will not want to pull my hair out, at least not for these reasons, forever. in the meantime, there must be the means to teach her that mama is more than a provider, more than a stroller pusher and a butt wiper and a booger collector. i am so many other things that she should be pleased to see and happy to share. i am, also, tired because i am fighting a battle that i ultimately win, but am much at a disadvantage by the time it is done because it drains me. i want her to get that our sensations exist at different times; i want her to be capable of honoring that difference out of love and respect for the people in her life.

and sometimes, when you can't manage much more than the "good job you peed in the potty every time today!" and the endless (brilliant) redirection, there is ice cream.

and cargo bikes (want). and brittany's loom.