19 November 2013

Guess who

I haven't written anything in such a long time.  A long, loooong time.  But I have started scribbling down some crappy poetry again and I thought, maybe I need to blog a bit.  Just to clear my throat a little.  Hear my own voice again.  And not just barking orders at little people to take things out of their mouths or to chew with their mouths closed.

Because somewhere down this road of parenthood, you get a bit obscured.  You see it in photographs. How the mommies are always either the one taking the photo or they are in the picture but  half-hidden behind their child, peeking over a little bony shoulder.

Going back to school has helped.  I made new friends.  And I have things to talk about with them.  Now instead of telling hilarious stories involving wiping a preschooler's mouth or behind, I regale my nursing school friends with stories involving wiping a patient's mouth or behind.  So there is that.

But still I feel a bit lost in the shuffle.  And what is a blog for, really, other than to talk about myself?  However interesting (or not) I may be.

06 October 2011


Bo said it just now.  Intentionally.  Standing in his playroom, calling for me to come pick him up.

I can feel my whole being wrapping itself around his fat little finger right now.

21 September 2011

The Poem Returning as an Invisible Wren to the World

Once, there was a poem. No one read it & the poem
Grew wise. It grew wise & then it grew thin,
No one could see it perched on the woman's
Small shoulders as she went on working beside

The gray conveyer belt with the others.
No one saw the poem take the shape of a wren,
A wren you could look through like a window,
And see all the bitterness of the world

In the long line of shoulders & faces bending
Over the gleaming, machined parts that passed
Before them, the faces transformed by the grace
And ferocity of a wren, a wren you could look

Through, like a lens, to see them working there.
This is not about how she threw herself into the river,
For she didn't, nor is it about the way her breasts
Looked in moonlight, nor about moonlight at all.

This is about the surviving curve of the bridge
Where she listened to the river whispering to her,
When the wren flew off & left her there,
With the knowledge of it singing in her blood.

By which the wind avenges. By which the rain avenges.
By which even the limb of a dead tree leaning
Above the white, swirling mouth of an eddy
In the river that once ran beside the factory window

Where she once worked, shall be remembered
When the dead come back, & take their places
Beside her on the line, & the gray conveyor belt
Starts up with its raspy hum again. Like a heaven's.

Larry Levis

20 September 2011

six things

...about my decision to start blogging again

1. I stopped blogging because, honestly, life got so crazy I didn't feel like I had time to sit down and write!
2. I even stopped reading blogs altogether.
3. I feel very torn about blogging, to tell the truth.
4. I want to maintain a sense of privacy for my children - not just for their physical safety, but because of a moral obligation I have as their mother.
5. That said, I do want to record some of our journey to becoming a family of five and some sweet little anecdotes so that I always remember the details.
6. Ultimately, I decided I need to blog because I miss writing.

coming soon

16 March 2011


There is nothing I can say about Japan that someone else hasn't already said. Much more eloquently than I could.

I just saw on msnbc that the official death toll is now 11,000. Eleven. Thousand. I cannot wrap my head around it. Eleven thousand people who were here last week are not.

My thoughts and prayers go out to the survivors. And especially to those brave individuals working at the nuclear power plants. God bless you.

15 March 2011

my birthday

So I am a little behind on blogging. My birthday was last month. I turned 36, in case you are wondering. Feeling very old, but I'll get into that some other time. Old, but happy. For now, pictures!

My birthday was the Friday before the Lion's birthday, so I brought Spider-Man cupcakes to his preschool. They were red velvet cupcakes. They turned all of the kids' teeth purple.

Since it was my birthday, Miss Heather whipped out their cardboard birthday cake and the kids sang "Happy Birthday" to me. It was very cute. Then we all sang to the Lion. And ate Spider-Man cupcakes.

That night we went to dinner at the Wazee Supper Club in Denver and had my favorite pizza. Jonathan's sister, Mary, and his mom were visiting, and I think Susan and I got a little tipsy over a pitcher of beer. She'll deny it, but I was there. I saw her rosy cheeks. I'm just telling it like it was.

Jonathan made me a tres leches cake. Here he is topping it with fresh raspberries:

Here's Lion admiring the raspberries:

And then, possibly my favorite part of the day. Sitting with Jonathan, sipping coffee, painfully full of delicious pizza and cake, feeling utterly happy and loved:

That was my birthday. I had a great day. So far, 36 is feeling pretty good!