happy

ahhhh....

starting the day off right. macaroni and cheese with a side of elaborate, loving, dance filled wedding proposal videos. it's gonna be a good day, good day, good day.

oh crap

10 grey hairs. simply not right. here's my vanity. i love my natural, dark hair. dark hair and blue eyes. it's a winning combination. my mom is 65 and barely a grey hair to be seen. me, 32 sprouting a silver patch. i yanked one of those suckers out this morning (along with a stunning rich, brown strand). alas, that was all i managed before my attention span drifted to something else of equal importance. crap, what was it....

mornings

I truly can. not. imagine anyone loving anyone as much as I love my girls. The adoration, the affection, the love, the gratitude, the awe I have of these young beings keeps me in bed in the mornings just so I can listen to their hushed whispers as they wake each other. I wonder will I find a tea party set to the nines or a bed covered (and I mean covered) with the tiniest of Playmobil pieces when I finally uncover myself from my flannel haven?

There are mornings the youngest sleeps in and all I hear are pages turning against bedcovers. Other days it's the thump, patter, patter, patter rush to the bathroom. But one of my greatest gifts is the quiet, oh so quiet, of a creeping child to the side of my bed, the gentle kiss on my cheek and full hug snuggle of her just wanting to be with me.

Morning suck without my girls. They make my day glorious.

for you

i had planned, all day, to share my handy, crafty, loving, joyful side. lighten the mood with my love of snow and stylized eskimo whimsy. maybe a few quips about how my daughter danced the dance of the sugar-plum fairy around the living room to really ugly jazz this afternoon for just me. i wanted this post to be light and full of life and possibility, but alas, my heart has hit the shit fan and i'm struggling to recall the moments of greatness from today and the possibility of tomorrow. my husband and i cannot speak for fear our words will shatter, what we palpate to be, the delicate balance in these moments of waiting. waiting to see. waiting to hear. waiting to know.

my moments of peace are watching the 2nd dance of the sugar-plum fairy (with costume change) over and over and over and over. this is our gift of peace and joy for our dear friend.