•every so often•

I think, I'm doing it. The sun breaks through the clouds, the pavement shines with promise. It's a good feeling. xox

Penn's "habitat."

"Can I sleep in my habitat?"

•trust your feelings•

I'm watching Star Wars for the first time with Penn.  After the usual stalls--popcorn, dishes, drinks, cat shoo'd away from my spot on the couch--we finally started the movie.  10 minutes in, I took him in my lap.  He was trembling, he was so excited.  Teeth literally chattering.

We skipped some scary parts (aunt beru-bq, trash compactor), but now it's full speed ahead to the Thai fighters and that two-meter sweet-spot Luke has to hit to 'splode the Death Star.  Penn is now on his feet and blasting the screen with his EZ-squeeze toothpaste tube squeezer.

The whole reason I've been putting this off, I realize, is me.  I'm the precious one, not my four-year-old.  Somewhere, it became important to me that he feel the sanctity of these movies... so I kept falling back on "he's too young."  Today was one of those I-can't-believe-I'm-that-Mom days.  Wherein I finally realized what a dork I've been.  It's nice, sitting here and watching this clunky old movie with my kid.  I'd forgotten how awesome, Alec Guinness.

Just now, from the couch--
Me: He shut off his computer, because he's using The Force!  He's just using his feelings!
Penn:  (holds up toothpaste thing) Did I break this?

xox

•swore I'd never•

The list is long. Before having a baby, I had ideas of absolute grandeur. No store-bought wipes. Nothing conventional. And, when the time came for sandwiches, crusts would never, ever be removed.



Behold, the Millennium Falcon sandwich-cutter. A Christmas gift.

Also featured in today's episode of What Kind Of Mother Am I? A mayonnaise sandwich. Requested by the three year old for his lunch, and, in my weakened, uncaffeinated state, agreed to--with crusts removed, a la spaceship.

Not *all* of my why evers have been replaced with why nots, but some mornings it feels that way.

•singer•

Hot cocoa, cold. Crumbs for tomorrow's vacuum.
I have a pink and white sewing machine, somewhere

out there. I dreamed the repair shop fixed the part,
picked up the bobbin thread. I woke to my friend's

second pregnancy: a whole new reason
for projects. Fresh crumbs, new cocoa.

xox