sunday confession

how come when no one is sick,
i'm all,

"do you need a tissue?"
"here - a tissue!"
"gah!  please use a tissue!"
"GO.GET.A.TISSUE.NOW."

and then when someone is sick,
i'm all,

"jeez!  how many tissues do you need?"
"stop with the tissues!"
"seriously!  these things cost like a dollar a box!"
"DUDE.NO.MORE.TISSUES."

i think i have tissue issues.

what's your sunday confession?
the confessional is open.

to knit or not to knit

i bought this sweater for 25 cents
at a woman's club rummage sale
in west virginia.

yes, a quarter.
because i happen to know the president.
(of the club)

i brought it home and washed it.
twice.

now, what to do?
i originally thought i'd take it apart
and make something else.

what do ya'll think?
anyone need a scarf?
or a snuggie?

safe zone

||:
"you cannot possibly be afraid to go downstairs/
brush your teeth/
get a drink/
take a shower/
etc, etc etc.
all of our lights are on.
our house is so small,
i can hear you the whole time.
there is no one here but us.
and the cat.
our house is a safe zone,
nothing can get in without us knowing."

"but what about the tooth fairy?"

"well, except for the tooth fairy."

"what about santa claus?"

"oh yeah, and santa."

"and what about the easter bunny?"

"and the easter bunny."

"doesn't sound very safe to me."
:||

sunday confession

this morning i ate* a donut.
but i couldn't finish it
because it was
TOO SWEET...

whattheheckishappeningtome?!?!?

what's your sunday confession?
the confessional is open.

*i used to eat at least two.
cream-filled.

totally worth it

getting up at 6:30am.
driving 4 hours to
fayetteville, wv.
in the pouring rain.

helping to
set the table,
put out the food,
clean up,
wash dishes,

all while your kids play
at maw-maw's house.
in the perfect weather.

laughing with aunts and uncles,
grandmother and papa,
eating way too much
peanut butter fudge
and homemade banana pudding.

piling in the car again
after a fabulous
thanksgiving meal.

driving 4 hours home
to pittsburgh.
in the dark.

no leftovers.
well, this last part kinda stinks,
but the rest,

totally worth it.
happy thanksgiving!

baby you

dear k,

you are five years old.
i really don't believe it,
but there were five candles
on your cake.
i counted them.
twice.
you blew them out in one try.
so it must be true.

your doctor told me once,
not to baby you.
the last kid.
i assured him that could never happen.
he said it would be tempting.
i said whatever.

but we do.
baby you.
i still carry you around
ala-suri-style.
what?

you have redefined our lives.
you bring the crazy.
and we love it.
you keep us young.

you hold your own so well
with the big kids,
sometimes i forget you are not
a big kid.
yet.

you are easy-going
and high-maintenance
all at the same time.
i'm not sure how this is possible,
but there it is.

you choose your own path,
you pick your own clothes,
you get our jokes.
that is cool.

so now that you are five,
could you just stop growing
for a little while?
because i really miss my baby.

love,
mom

sunday confession

today is my baby's 5th birthday.
and i am not handling it well.
at all.

what's your sunday confession?
the confessional is open.