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Mar
12
Love, Leslie: Haiku Letters
by Leslie
You are one contrary bitch.
I really hate you.
I wanted to eat you, but
the baby didn’t.
I hope there’s two in there
to justify your size.
It’s so hard to wait for you.
Hurry up. Get here.
If there’s two in there, tap twice.
Quit making me puke.
Mar
10
Lucy’s vocabularly is exploding right now. She busts out new words every day. In a thick Boston accent.
She’s always asking for “wahta” to drink.
Yesterday she asked me to, “Putah in da gahhbage!”
(Translation: “Put it in the garbage.”)
Later, she told me she, “faahhhhted.” And while I abhore the word “fart,” particularly when it comes from the lips of my dainty daughters, I couldn’t help but catch it on video.
I blame Boston for making it funny.
Mar
8
You put it in the hole, right?
But what’s the club for?
Mar
7
Julia participated in her second Ribbon Festival on Saturday.
(And guess what?!?!?! THIS WOMAN was there! Her daughter played Lightly Row! We didn’t speak! It was awkward! For me! Because I don’t think she even saw me! Unless she did but pretended not to or something!)
Julia wore a pretty pink dress and played Cuckoo.
She earned a yellow ribbon. For some reason we spent most of the year thinking it was going to be purple but whatever. On the way home, Julia held her ribbon and said to it, “I love you and I’ll tell you why. First of all, you’re yellow…” Purple schmurple. Yellow suits her fine.
The judge had this to say about her performance:
What a beautiful performance! You played so confidently with a lovely smooth touch on the keys. I especially liked your very careful hand position - you obviously have listened to your teacher very well.
You played every note perfectly and kept a steady beat. I hope you will always love the piano and that you will continue to practice and learn. Thank you for playing today. I really enjoyed hearing you!!
Yeah. There are TWO exclamation points at the end.
The whole thing made me cry. I’d blame pregnancy hormones, but the truth is, I’m like one of those parents on American Idol who closes their eyes when their kid performs and cries over how proud they are. On the inside (because outwardly, I roll my eyes at those crazy parents). Except on this occasion where I really cried. Let’s just call it pregnancy hormones!
Lucy wore a NOT PINK dress to The Ribbon Festival.
And she was sufficiently proud of her sister.
Oh, and one more. Because I’m just a little bit proud of my girls.
Mar
6
The Power Of A Posse
by Leslie
Our playgroup started in 2007. Five moms, five three-year olds and Baby Ella.
Three years later, we’re still a group. Five moms, five five-turning-six-year olds, four one-turning-two year olds and Baby Ella. (Okay, so Ella’s not so much a baby anymore, but the name stuck. Sorry, kiddo. You’re forever Baby Ella in my heart.) But now, with school, work and other obligations pulling us in different directions, our get-togethers are a bit more random.
Yesterday everything lined up, like an eclipse, and a few of us managed to hook up at the mall play area, after preschool, before big kid school pick up and on our way to run errands. The kids fell right into their groove, like musicians coming together to play a symphony. They each knew their part and played beautifully together. All was sweet as a song, until…
Baby Ella came to report that someone wasn’t being nice to Lucy. We immediately got on our feet and went to see what was going on. A boy- the biggest boy in the play area - had Lucy cornered in a tunnel. His hands were around her neck and he was shaking her. She was visibly upset and truly quite frightened. One of the other mothers in our group reached her before I did and pulled her out of there.
Once Lucy settled down, the kids went back to playing and we increased our watchfulness, particularly over the boy as his parents didn’t seem to be around. He lingered near our kids. Then, he grabbed for Lucy and said, “Come here! Come on! Come with me.” And before I could even approach him, the rest of the playgroup kids, without saying a word to each other, circled around Lucy. The older girls placed themselves directly between the boy - who was bigger than every one of them - and my little girl and told him, “You’re making her scared. She can’t come with you. Please leave our friend alone.”
For the rest of the afternoon, Lucy played with her friends around her, watching her and protecting her. And I felt so grateful for my girl to know what it’s like to be loved and valued, to feel small and picked on, but to have friends surround her, protect her, lift her up and soften the blows the world is hitting her with, because that’s how my playgroup friends make me feel. Because we all need a posse. I’m so thankful for mine.
Mar
4
I am a woman ruled completely by her stomach. This pregnancy has me hungry like I’ve never been hungry before. Lock up your pets and don’t get too close - I might bite. Not because I want to. I HAVE TO. Like a vampire. I’m THAT HUNGRY. ALL THE TIME.
It’s almost scary.
At first I thought it was a mental thing. I’d been limiting my calories for so long to lose weight, I felt sure it was my brain going, “WE’RE PREGNANT? WOO HOOO! LET’S EAT!!!!” But if it’s mental, my mind is amazing because I’ve never experienced such intense and relentless hunger. And if I deny it and do not eat, I get sick. Not nauseous sick. Pukey bile dry heave sick.
Don’t worry. It’s not like I’m not eating. If you’ve seen me lately, it’s obvious I’m eating. I look like the old lady who swallowed a fly after she swallowed the horse except I’m not dead.
People ask, “So when are you due?” And when I say September, they’re like, “Really? I thought it was sooner.”
I’m scared I’m going to gain my 100 pounds back. I’m well on my way.
I had a chicken pot pie at 9 a.m. this morning. Because I HAD TO.
I ate oranges ALL DAY YESTERDAY. I’m not exaggerating. I had to send someone to the store to get me more because I’d eaten all we had and wasn’t done, because ORANGES!!!!! They were the best thing I’d ever eaten. Yesterday. Today, I want MEAT. A giant steak. An enormous meaty burger. A pot roast.
I’m eating like I’m growing a litter.
I have my first ultrasound in 12 days. I cannot wait to see what’s in there.
Mar
1
Dave’s Not Complaining
by Leslie
but it’s my bra, not my pants
that no longer fit
Mar
1
The Haiku Buckaroo Contest 6.0
by Leslie
You may not know this but spring cannot come until a new Haiku Buckaroo is chosen. It’s a fact I made up and it’s 100% true.
What’s a Haiku Buckaroo? I’m so glad you asked in-the-dark-dude! It’s the winner of my semi-annual, full-on awesome haiku contest.
So, how ’bout we work together to get get some spring sprung!
Here’s how to do it:
Write a haiku.
(A haiku has 17 syllables:
seven in the second line
five in the third line
Just so you know.)
Bloggers: Post your haiku on your blog. It’d be nice if you’d linkily mention this contest in your post so I can feel your style and your link love flow. Once your post is published, submit a link directly to your entry post with the Mr. Linky below.
Non-Bloggers or Bloggers Who Don’t Want To Post It On Their Blog For A Reason I Don’t Understand But Support Because We’re Free To Be You and Me: Submit your haiku via this entry form. I will provide a page on which all non-blogger haiku submissions will appear. Once your submission is received, it will be included on the non-blogger haiku submission page and a link to it will be added to Mr. Linky under your name.
You may enter more than once. Each haiku will be judged individually.
The contest winner (a.k.a. The Haiku Buckaroo) will receive:
The contest deadline is 11:59 p.m. EST, Friday March 12th. The winner will be announced on Monday March 15th.
Just seventeen syllables
And it could be you
Good luck!
Feb
28
You know you’re a real grown-up when you’re so draggin-ass tired you fall asleep on the couch and there’s no one to carry you up to bed. In fact, you not only have to take yourself upstairs, but also two smalls humans, a cat and your heating pad. And the stuff that keeps you up at night are things like that jerk who reprimanded your daughter right in front of you when HELLLOOOO! I’m her mom. I WILL TAKE CARE OF MY CHILD. If you have a problem with her behavior, the appropriate thing is to TAKE IT UP WITH ME.
Consequently, it seems like the people who think it’s okay to reprimand other people’s children right in front of them tend to be clueless about their own. Go ahead and chastise my daughter for picking her nose while yours is eating her own boogers. Yeah, you’re better than me. Perhaps it’s because it happens to them – people jump in to parent their children – and that’s where they began to think it was okay to be a-holes. I have news: IT IS NOT.
My loathing for people like this is equal to the depth of my love for The Joker by The Steve Miller Band.
The same goes for unreliable people who act like I’m the unreliable one. Please do not judge me for your shortcomings.
Oh, and beat-around-the-bushers. Spit it out for the love of cookies. If you don’t have the cajones to say what you want to say, swallow it. I don’t have time to decode your mystery message.
Now I feel compelled to show you the videos I’ve made for our playgroup over the past three years. But I can’t because I haven’t asked permission. So I just watched them and cried because I love them so much. Also because the lady waxed my eyebrows a little too much today and I look perpetually surprised.
I’m going to go eat a doughnut and some sweet gherkin pickles.
Feb
24
Picasso Is Home
by Leslie
We picked her up Monday night. And we’ve been doing a lot of this.
And this.
(Please ignore my bedhead. Showering isn’t a priority when you get your should-be-dead cat back.)
And it’s doing some good, I think, because she’s now drinking on her own and eating with help. This morning, she rolled on her back to let Dave rub her tummy. Later, she played with Lucy and explored the house a bit, despite her coordination and balance issues.
She’s timid and tired, but she’s still Picasso. I am so grateful.
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Stuff I Dig
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You Should Do This
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Ooooooh. Aaaaah.
