Chambermaid

I am head over heels for this age stage Harper's in. Sure, she can have really scary tantrums (really scary), but those are totally canceled out by all the ridiculous antics she pulls all day and the crazy rate she's learning/mimicking/talking. She's such a nut!

Por ejemplo! Here's a video from last night. She was quiet for a bit and cc opened the bathroom door to find her doing this on repeat. (And while I'd love to take credit for cleaning the toilets soooo frequently she couldn't help but learn...I'm pretty sure I only did it once and I didn't know she was even with me?)

A little Christmas post

Pretty much says it all.

We had a lovely, peaceful Christmas in these here parts. It was so much fun getting everything festive and Santafied and waking up together and watching Harper slowly get what a special day Christmas is.

She just...loved it all. There were so many "wow!"s and gleeful giggles and real, innocent joy. Over everything! A little piece of Pez candy, handing out presents to her uncle, opening a dollhouse, riding her Rody, having tea parties, playing with her cousins, watching the snowflakes flake.

The Christmas lights in Portland. Impromptu driving date with cc.

Snowflake turtleneck and my Gram.

HJ and cc make towers. New hoss, Rody, in the background.

I love seeing her with the cousins, playing quietly (and then loudly) with the big girls upstairs while I peeked in to make sure she was still alive. Watching her remove herself from the chaos for little periods of time to recharge -- with a pile of books or some watercoloring or a walk in wooden shoes. Eating a cupcake in the kitchen (after her first, sticky candy cane) and saying "thank you thank you thank you!" Then giving out 12 rounds of kisses and hugs before we drove off in the Subie.

In her doughnut shirt and purple tights. Ready for the family party.

And I love all the thoughtful presents she received (which, honestly, I look at as presents to me since they'll keep us busy in the long winter hours ahead!), with lots of attention to who she is and we are as a family. Books and art supplies and craft goodies and puzzles and riding toys. Packing up my car with all the new loot, I'm pretty sure I could open up a cozy/crunchy daycare tomorrow. Any takers?

I hope your holi-dees were a good time, too! 

We took a road trip to Maine

French fries! Fist deep.

Harps and I (and a little bit of Santa, too) loaded up the Subie yesterday morning and hit the road. Was planning on making an afternoon departure, but after a 5 AM wakeup call, I knew I needed to use my hours wisely. We made a bunch of stops this go, but that was fine and broke it up nicely. When there's no big rush, it's cool to stop at Wendy's for some fries (and some milk we spilled all over, followed by a clothes change in the parking lot -- you're welcome for the show, Southboro!) and then an hour later stop at Dunks for some much needed caffeine and then stop at my cousin's house for a quick chat and a lovely cup of tea.

DD. One of my truest loves.

I just love texting her and saying "You gonna be around at noon?" and her texting "Yep!" and then easy breezy, we're there sipping chai! East Coast livin, yo.

She poured an entire box of Goldfish out. Felt a bit remorseful.

And now we're at my mum's house and it's icy and foggy outside and I have got to get dressed and do some shopping in Portland. Unless everyone's cool with some cute IOU's for baked goods? ...no?

 Oh and a quick PSA! See how Harps is almost 2 (in 6 weeks ah!) and still facing backward? The American Pediatrics Association changed the recommendation last year (of when to flip them forward) from 1 year to 2 years. I've heard lots of complaints that a kiddo is too tall (ahem -- at 12 months, no kiddo is too tall) but oh, friends. I birthed a giant and she's still hanging tough a year later. She's never known any different and so she rolls with it. (We plan on keeping her this way for as long as we all can do it, but that's just us.)

Did you know facing your baby/toddler backward reduces the risk of serious injury or fatality in a crash by 75%? That number is...huge. This is (very) sad, but EMTs refer to that seat as the "orphan maker" because often the baby is the only one in a crash who makes it.

Also! See that clip on her chest? That needs to be way up near their armpits/nipples, not down by their tummy or crotch. And none of the straps should be twisted. Each one of these things makes a huge difference in safety.

Just a quick reminder! Lots of peeps out on the roads for the holidays and feel pretty strongly about this one. Kisses.

I am not Martha Stewart tonight because

You haven't what?!

I haven't:

1) Purchased any Christmas presents. Literally. Not one.

2) Made/bought/sent Christmas cards. I'm thinking...this one isn't going to happen.

3) Found my offspring a pediatrician. (Or we adults GPs/dentists/yada yada everything.)

4) Taken a shower this weekend.

5) Put away any of my clothes at the new house. They're in trash bags and canvas tote bags and army bags and ... all over the floor.

6) Finished The Brothers Karamazov since sophomore year.

However! I'm quite accomplished at sipping this here hot cocoa and kicking my slippers up on this here bed and closing my eyes in this here head and shrugging my shoulders that it'll all, probably, get done someday.

My biscuit

Yarn hat.

cc and I are obsessed with these pics because Harper looks like a real little girl in them. (Versus a wooden puppet?) Not a baby...a girl. I love it and I hate it and then I love it. We've been having a string of really good days. (And by "string" I think I mean...the last two. We had two days of bad tantrums before that. In full disclosure.) But these days are like damn! I'm totally awesome at this! Is someone filming?

Making the homemade playdough together, doing all the library visits, having tea parties, quietly coloring together at the sunny table near the window, wagon rides through the secret garden... On these kinda days, I'm grateful for all that work I've done on mindfulness. It takes practice not to worry about every little thing going on in the background and really be like dude! This is the life!

Do you guys know about layers? I'll teach you.

And hey! Speak of the devil. It's now 10 in the PM and while I was about to press Publish and start using up some of that new yarn... I've got a little friend munching peanut butter crackers next to me all the sudden. (Too long o' afternoon nap and can't stay asleep.) Le sigh. We just waved to the buck outside our kitchen window and now we'll read a few pages before we hopefully, oh-god-I-need-it, drift back down to sleepytown.

(Edited to add this next pic while she reads on her beanbag way-too-late because, well, it makes me feel all cheerful and stuff):

And to all a good night! Yo.

I am hypontized by this

Harps and I can't get enough of this one. I'm personally impressed by his total commitment and utter unembarrassment at singing with Muppets. And it's really catchy and sweet. And then the synchronized head turns at the end. Eye candy.

(P.S. I just read he co-wrote Cee-Lo's 'F You' song -- aka Harps' favorite jam. But of course he did!)

Deer Prudence

Little piece of advice for parents-to-be? Don't purchase a velvet couch when you're trying to make a baby. Because then the baby will be made and then it will be born and then it will spit up breastmilk all over it and then draw all over it with ballpoint pen. Mmm. 

(I love that print -- it's of Union Station in Denver, right downtown where we first lived. We've collected little things from all the places we've lived and like to sprinkle them around. A future project is putting a big wall sticker of the Golden Gate Bridge on Harps' bedroom wall.)

Hey, so! Harps officially has a school for next fall. Score dot net! I decided on a different program after all, because while the nature one looks great, a chance meeting at the library last week steered us in a new direction. I don't want no crazies finding my chillun so I won't give any deets, but it really is my heart song vision for a nursery school. Very similar to the one I attended and full of good/warm/happy vibes. I had to pull her away (literally) kicking and screaming today, so I take that as a big thumbs up from her.

I love that this is out of the way, even though it seems incredibly ridiculous we have to do it almost an entire year in advance. I took the 7th of 8 spots! It's only December! What has this earth come to, yo? I guess I'm a part of it now, so I can't complain no mo'. (But I still will.)

What else what else what else...

Tonight, after a massive kitchen clean-up, I headed outside with the trash and recycling. Right there (right there) was a huge buck. Antlers all perky, he stared at me and stared at me while I inched forward and then backward again. Do male deer kill moms-in-sweats trying to take their milk bottles out? I asked myself. Not wanting to test my question, I tiptoed back inside and put on my slippers. cc assured me he "probably wouldn't have" and then we stepped out on our lit patio and watched the buck -- totally okay with us being there -- munch on our holly while his baby mama sat nearby.

Guess I won't ever be growing a vegetable garden here?

Sunday

My best friends.

I'm writing this wearing: Two pair of pants, wool socks under leather/shearling slippers, a long sleeve shirt under a hoodie under a wool cardigan. Basically, I'm looking very sexy and slim. Enough, fellas! I'm married.

Sooooo yes. It's a little chilly downstairs in the hobbithouse (upstairs not at all) and also, maybe, I'm a little dramatic...so. Here we are! (About to press "confirm" on a striped union suit to wear under all my clothes, all the time.)

Despite the subtle chill....I love the hell out of this house. It's slowly coming together and feeling homey and happy and just a nice place to spend my hours. I also muchly enjoy: the yard! And hammock! And the deer that visit us all day long! (Not their many poo piles tho.)

In other news, I think I found a little nursery school for Harps next year. (Septembah 2012.) I have to make sure there's room and stuff (preschools out here aren't like those in cities, with interviews and the like -- which is a major hallelujah for me, because I'd probably just not end up doing any of it and she'd be homeschooled till college or maybe even grad school), but I'm hoping it'll be easy peasy to get it all done.

If it works out, I think it could be a really special place for the Jones. It's a nature-centered school, with most of the focus on outdoorsy/wildlife stuff, which seems just right for what makes her happy. And it's only a mile from our house, kapow! I'll say more about the program if it works out doobie doobie doo.

Aaaaaaaand back to Zach Galifianakis on Netflix in my snowsuit.

Treats

Yes.

Ever since my mom helped me get through the horrors of seventh grade (people were kissing-with-tongue and drinking wine coolers in basements while I listened on repeat to Abbey Road and re-read Starring Sally J. Freedman as Herself in protest of my new teenage status) by taking me out for brownie sundaes at Johnson's, I've wholeheartedly believed in treats to get me through slow work days or long winters or bad headaches or Tuesdays.

But I'm talkin little treats here -- that's the key, I think. It's often a happier high to get a five dolla sumpin sumpin than a crazy big purchase. A travel size hand lotion, an eggnog latte, a...maple syrup candle in a vintage tin with a wooden wick that crackles. You smell me. I've been lighting that puppy up whenever I have a second to myself and it (I almost typed "lifts me up" which is really frightening) makes me all holly jolly. Silly maybe? But it works. Now if I could only find the Christmas lights amidst all these dang boxes...

Harper's treat? Long, long sessions of water play with abundant pumps of method cucumber dish soap. (Also, she got a chocolate milk after the library today. And patted her mouth with napkin in between each delicate sip. Oh, b!)

Smush.

Rainy dayz

Waiting on the train from NYC. My buddy came to visit and while away the rain.

 Rainy days over here in the shire. (That's where our cottage is, natch.)

It's taking a little adjusting to, this rain and very early (4:30?!) darkness. In Colorado, it almost never does anything but shine with sun. So we'd go outside for hours and hours at a time -- even in the dead of winter! -- up and down and around the sidewalks, parks, and backyards. Here it's...no. It's not like that. Which, inherently is more me. I love cozy indoor things and I love rain and I love boots. (It's related, go with it.)

I've just never lived those things with a toddler in tow. Whew. Whew-ee.

What in the heck does one do with a tiny person when one isn't outside chilling in the sun? I don't think she could pick up knitting just yet.

I've been making lists of ideas for myself, because in the moment (when it's dark and wet and we've played with every single toy and read every single book and colored and danced to all of the 80's already) I sometimes just throw my hands up and put on a Caillou. Which, hey, that's not evil. Caillou is my good, bald friend. I just want to have a quick reference to look at before I grab the remote.

I've got things like: Play with soap and warm water in the sink, use potatoes and paint as stamps, shaving cream letters on her little table, pull out the felt board, make playdough, vacuum together (she loves it, shush), bake something, make a fort, drink have a tea party.

Other ideas, you cold weather lovelies out there?

Sometimes I get jealous of those days of yore, where there were a million siblings who lived in the same village and you just piled your kids together and they entertained each other while you made corn fritters. But other times I really, really love my quiet space. (And running water.)

Storytime

Today, I took Harps to our first storytime at our new town's library. It was kind of...intense? Mind you, I just came from a teeny session in Maine where there were four other toddlers in attendance, an insanely sweet librarian in bulky winter boots who called H "Hahpah" and a cool grandpa wearing a jogging suit. This was not that. This was a tired-but-manic singing lady wearing a mic up on a stage. This was probably 100 people screaming at the top of their lungs. This was almost all nannies. But you know what? This was a happy Harper. She hauled a%s out of the little one last week and was riveted today. Sometimes I wonder how she is she after spending all her time with me.

Then we went upstairs for a little puzzle time, a little book time. Except, duh, it was swamped with other peeps who just left the show. (I'm calling it a show now, that's what it was.) But she found a little corner and started her pile of books, declining rather emphatically my offer to read them aloud. So I chilled on the couch and judged other parents. You know.

This one lady next to me -- "Nana" -- pulled her 3ish year old granddaughter up on the couch with her and started offering her a variety of treats.

"Now. None of these because there are no treats in the library." Hands her a chocolate covered rice cake.
"And no drinks, you might spill!" Slips her a sippy cup with juice.
"If you want to eat we have to do it downstairs!" A cracker.

To say the least, I was confused.

Then there were a bunch of nannies conducting phone calls and texting. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Then! Up showed a man with his 2ish year old son. They sat on the rug to assemble a puzzle or two. While they fiddled, a cute cutie (9 months maybe?) came crawling over and started gumming some of the pieces. Dad's face = complete horror. He turns to me "Do you know her?" Do I know her? That phrasing is totally off in referencing a baby, dude. I shake my head, delighted to see where this is headed.

She keeps chewing a lighthouse or a frog or something, all cheeks and big eyes and dimples. He frantically hands her pieces from another puzzle and then lightly pushes her in that direction. "No, baby. We're playing with this puzzle. You do that puzzle." (YOU DO THAT PUZZLE?!) She comes back, he hands more pieces, over and over, rinse repeat.  He looks up again, to another mom. "Are you her mother? Whose baby is this? WHOSE BABY IS THIS?!"

No one answers. (At this point, even I'm wondering who the hell she belongs to -- some di*khead is literally pushing her around!) Which is hilarious, because he cannot believe his bad luck. Little sisters -- always in the way. Ramona!

Eventually, I grabbed Harps and scooted the heck out. We'll be spending a lot of time there (it's open 7 days a week woot and it's about to be hardcore winter ah die) and I thought it best I didn't punch a face my first day there. You know.

We did it, we moved, we're alive

Oh, just leaving my secret garden. You?

Moving! Such a joy. A friend asked if it would be a hassle to visit because we've just moved and I'm all "No! We've always just moved." Because doesn't it feel that way? It's almost surprising to remember I lived in the same house for years and years and years growing up. That I wasn't an army kid, trying a different city every couple years. Anywho.

We've got a bunch of boxes left to unpack, but we're getting settled in slowly but surely. cc has done most of the unpacking, truth be told, and I'd like to publicly kiss his face to show my appreciation. Specifically, his meticulous attention to unloading and organizing my kitchen (my homey homey kitchen with a vintage metal bread drawer!) makes me want to break dance to something with a good hook.

Hop on. Next stop? Chocolate milk.

Harps is in her toddlerpants glory. Her toys and books are slowly appearing after a lonely few month tucked away, she's got loads of space to roam and kick her tiny soccer ball, and the apple cider doughnut holes have been flowing. Along with some usually unavailable treats purchased from my new favorite place on all of planet earth:

This was my second visit of the day.

Stew Leonard's. I can't even explain this place. There's a petting zoo outside? And animatronic shows that happen above the butter aisle? And tons and tons and tons of made-right-there sweets and baked goods and popcorn and fresh squeezed juice and weird funky things and it's like. Perfect. And entirely to blame for me eating much too many of these:

Everything a girl could ever want in two bites.

So the unpacking continues (and continues) tomorrow, but for now I kick back on my new (left behind by former tenants) chaise thing of greatness and eat my weight in kettle corn. Smooches!

We're moving here tomorrow

This teeny little pic will have to do for now... stole it off Zillow.

But soon we'll be taking our own pics as Harps eats grass and makes snowmen and poos behind the stonewall. Wee!

We found it our first couple days in town, just stumbled upon it while we were driving around the area. We weren't seriously looking yet -- thought we'd stay in temp housing for a few months -- but after taking turns running around the grounds while Harps napped in the car... we couldn't get it out of our heads. It was just too easy to picture us being us there.

So! Crazy fairy cottage nestled in the trees? Here we come.

*high fives Hansel and Gretel*

And then she inhaled a pumpkin whoopie pie in the rain

Heading back south tomorrow, leaving Grammy Camp behind. Will shed a small tear, but we miss dada/cc and heck -- we'll be back in a few weeks. Oh, holidees! I love thee.

But hey! Only a couple short nights in Stupid Apartment before we move into our house. Bam! It took till today, but the lease is official and we're IN. I'm excited like woah. I need to host a garden party or sumpin. Or maybe just toast a couple bagels for friends. Nite!

While I eat my millionth Trader Joe's JoeJoe

Wooden shoes = the next big craze. 

'ello! (As Harper says.) I hope everyone had a nice and restful turkey day. I spent mine on the Right Coast, my first over this way in 6 years. It was a lovely first holiday back -- lots of food and family time and oohing and ahing over Chennypants.

I couldn't help but pause to remember last Thanksgiving -- also known as, what I hope will remain and not be usurped ever, The Worst Thanksgiving of My Life. I had a sick baby (who was beginning a very sudden self-weaning) and a very (very) sick husband. Schlepping through the airport, cc weak and unable to carry the baby, the baby wailing from a stomach bug and ear infection, I considered lying down in the middle of everything and letting one of those moving walkways take me away, Calgon. Exhausted from a year of serious sleep deprivation, I was still the only one that felt relatively well. There's no sitting down and kicking up your feet over a slice of pumpkin while the rest of your family is suffering.

We spent those days gritting our teeth, grinning and bearing it -- in cars and planes, sleeping in different beds, swallowing sweet potato, all the while trying to act okay. I'm pretty sure we failed.

The fear and exhaustion and uncertainty of that time was nothing I'd ever experienced. I fought back tears when Harper wouldn't nurse on our last day in Texas. I tried and tried and tried to get her to latch, but she was simply and suddenly done. Beside myself with grief and rejection, I convinced myself I was a terrible mother; looking back, I was anxious about some much deeper things. It was simply something to pin those feelings on.

But shew yikes -- back to the here and now. Exactly a year later and life looks much different. Happier, slower, much healthier, more grateful. Thursday morning, while I tossed the squash in evoo and brown sugar, alone in the kitchen for a minute, I paused. I wasn't anxious, I wasn't scared. I could hear cc and Harper giggling, coloring frogs and ghosts together before they moved onto reading that Arthur book for the 25th time. I started to cry, overwhelmed in the best of ways.

And oh yes, there was plenty of pumpkin this time around.

(Back to the JoeJoes.)

Good guv'nor I love driving more than flying

Sicky Harps and her new best friend, Chewy.

Yesterday, Harps and I made the trip up north to my mum's house. Dude. It was pie. I wasn't sure how it'd all go, but it was seriously fine. There were a couple stops along the way (when she got fussy we did up McDonald's for fries -- it'd been so long and I think they might not be as good? Am I missing the transfat? -- and some running around the scary play thing, then visited with my dad for some intense coloring/doctor kit'ing/soccer playing), but the traffic was nil and I could haul ass drive at a very reasonable speed. (And when she started losing her noodle, a well-placed iPad with some Caillou kept things peaceful.)

What a difference, doing a drive instead of taxi'ing to the airport and checking a bag and going thru security and and -- yeah. I'm also a nut, I think, and love to drive. Always always always prefer to be at the wheel than next to it (unless I'd like a cat nap...)

Speaking of cats! Much to my allergy-ridden husband's dismay (who isn't here yet, but I can imagine his pout-to-be) my mum just got a new kitty and...we're fairly obsessed. His name is Chewy and he has little pointy, crooked ears like Yoda, and he's the sweetest love I've ever met. Last night, after I put my stuffed-up baby girl down in her old school Pooh jammies, as I sipped my tea and kicked up my feet, Chewy climbed onto my lap and cradled himself into a baby position, wrapping his paws around my arm. We are in love for life. (And now I've started obsessively researching dogs. Oh b!)

Post drive tea binge.

Turns out, toddlers love parades

I was originally planning on driving to my mom's house today, to kick off our Thanksgiving celeb early. But then cc was all "Huh? But...I'd miss a whole weekend day with Harps?!" And so okay, can't argue too much with that. Leaving tomorrow instead.

In my defense -- at taking away a sweet biscuit from her dadpants -- I walk in my mom's house and enter Enormous Amounts of Help Land. So when that's beckoning...it can be hard to stay in this here small, nothing-works-ever apartment. But I did!

And listen. On my walk back from the drugstore this morning (scared of the CVS-brand dipes I just bought), I noticed a parade was about to start. It was also probably 68 degrees out and sunny and she's never been to one and I haven't been in years and why not? So I hustled back and told cc he was taking her while I sat at home and didn't. And he did. But then he called and said "Only the motorcycles have come out and she's already so dang happy...I don't think you'll want to miss this." And woooeee he was right.

She was mildly pleased with the drummers and the bugles and the big police horses, but then the huge Macy's-type balloons started coming down the street (A caterpillar! Scooby! Garfield! Cookie Monster!) and she was beside herself. Clapping and yay'ing and pointing and kicking with glee. The sun was shooting sparkles off her little face and she was hugging cc's head and, well, I was suddenly okay with changing a few extra dipes today.

Calm hands

Guys, it felt so good to type out those words last night. I'm never sure ahead of time if I should press publish after putting my weirds out there, but whew. Glad I braved it. Completely cathartic, right before sleeps, right before I drifted into closed eyes closing out a long day.

Thank you for your thoughtful and kind comments and for being so nice to me. It's such a boost to read uplifting words as they ping into my inbox -- especially when it's raining and we're cooped up and I haven't talked to another adult in many many hours. So thank you.

Oh and so crackers and cheesiness out of the way, let me tell you about tonight:

When I put Harper down in her little white bed and cc popped in a video game and I said "I desperately need a peppermint hot cocoa, goodbye!" So I put on my green rainboots and my slouchy cap and went out into the dark city. Where scary people abound? (But 'twas only 7:30, so felt safe-ish...) And I first stopped at McDonald's because I guess they have a gross peppermint concoction for the holidays, but the line was so long and I felt way too close to getting a large fry. Ohhhh a large fry. It's been so so so long.

But since I'd walked that far, I was thisclose to the 'bux where I could get a soy version. Which is better for my face, I s'pose. So I ordered and it was ohsotasty; I started the walk back, jolly and with a minty mouth. Three quarters of the way home, though, on a particularly dark and empty stretch, a car pulled up next to me and two guys jumped out. And I was pretty sure I was dead dead dead with a mouthful of soy, dead. And I was so angry at myself for orphaning my baby, all for some sugar! She'd grow up motherless because I like overpriced hot beverages! I couldn't shop for a prom dress or teach her how to drive stick shift or watch Footloose while she did Algebra homework. Because of cocoa.

But then! They looked at me, shrugged, and...ran across the street to Macy's. And I wasn't dead. I was alive! and my drink was still warm. And I finished it quickly. Tasty, but not quite so much as before.

Words on a wednesday

Oh hey, fingers crossed but... if all works out, we'll be moving into a new pad on December One. Joy! I always feel nervous till the lease is signed and all that (we're in the paperwork phase right now), but tentatively, cautiously excited. It's a really unique place and I really can't wait to get my bum in it. But! Trying not to count chickens yada yada yada.

Should help with the general malaise I've got grooving. I'm happy pants to be back on this coast and excited for things to come, but also in this weird zone I haven't been in since Before Baby days. The past two years, Harper's completely occupied my whole everything -- but now that she's more and more independent (sob, but also yay?) (and also who am I kidding -- she's still 100% dependent on me, she can just... talk and stuff), I find myself thinking about goals with a capital G. Semi obsessively.

And then beating myself up because I haven't accomplished them yet or worry I never will accomplish them or stress because there's really no way to accomplish them while being a SAHM (which I'm committed to being) and wanting more babies. What a completely weird limbo space to be in. Knowing I'm doing what I want to be doing, but wanting a bit more, but not really being able to do it.

Because isn't there a way to live parallel lives? Haven't they cracked that time machine code yet? Where I'm off training to be a yoga teacher in one plane, writing a book in another, having 12 babies in a third; And somehow aware and mindful in each state, appreciating how rad it is I'm getting to live up to my potential (that's in heavy quotes), but also raising chickens in the backyard and knitting an afghan while I breastfeed?

I compare myself to other bloggers who live seemingly flawless and accomplished lives. With etsy shops and beautiful shoes and puppy dogs and master degrees. I compare myself to writers and artists and actors and business people and friends and enemies. I compare and compare and envy and fret and come up zero. Because oh my. Once you start thinking the grass is greener or smarter or prettier, you start to lose. Lose your mind, your grounding, your groove.

Because oh, I know (some of the time, when I've just finished my yoga or I'm drinking my tea and doing a crossword or biting Harper's cheeks and holding her hands) it's all a matter of yet. Not being able to do it all yet. This right now, these hours and days and months, these are my hardcore mothering days. These are the days Harper needs me needs me needs me and these days won't roll around again. They won't be waiting for me later, in a patient pond of things to dip into, like the other wants I want to do. This is it and I have to own it. And I am. It just takes a second to get back there sometimes.

Harper drew a rainbow.