Humble monkey

June 12, 2011

Today my girl said to me,
with absolutely no malice,
Mommy, you’re really just
not very good at crafts, hunh?

Certainly the flippers for the monkey
were a challenge.

Nothing would please.
Holes in the tights.
Braids too tight.
We forgot her snack.
But worst of all:
Mommmmm!!!! Listen to me!!!
I’m too dehygerated, I just

I concentrated on keeping my breathing
slow and steady.
Things were quiet for a minute. Then,
What’s dehygerated?

Oh, I am dropping petals today,
and I hate this part–
I so much prefer
luscious blooming.
But blossoms and bodies both
know that shedding is
part of wisdom, and so
I will try to let what is unnecessary

There is so much sorrow and joy
packed into every day
that I find myself weeping
walking across the room
or picking up my daughter–
just a few silent gasps
over her shoulder.
And sometimes we sit and cry together
and talk about our feelings
until she rolls her eyes
and is done
and too,
we laugh and laugh and
every day
new petals are revealed.

Last night I tangled with the internet gods,
and they won.
Specifically, they kicked my ass
all around the ether.
Luckily, I have a superhero
living under my roof.

Photo credit: AJK

I need a breather.

May 26, 2011

Time to make a little space
so the sweetness can soak in.
No crystal bowl in the sunlight for me:
I want a hot bath, a cold beer,
and an old, old book.
I’ll steep and watch my hard edges
and stony cracks
soften, melt, and drip away.

Oh, Portland.

May 24, 2011

Portland, you’re killing me.
Even the people at the POST OFFICE
are nice.
Even the people at the GAS STATION
are nice.
I’m going to sprout flowers from
all my orifices

Tender Ministrations

May 21, 2011

I feel like crap today.
I have a cold.
I ache.
I’m dizzy.
But I have a nurse.
She makes me presents.
And grand pronouncements–
Dear Mommy, I love you very much.
Sweet dreams. Love, Me.

And she offers, most gallantly, to
watch a movie so that
you can rest so quietly, poor Mommy love.

I put the bug outside.
I merged in the rain.
I used my new phone with the many many buttons.
I called my accountant and we had the numbers talk.
I drove across the slippery bridge over the river wild and deep.
I pressed Pay and signed myself up for a weekend
of magic and horses.

The strange gift of being afraid of
is that you stop waiting to feel brave.
You get things done still quaking, and then
you’re not so scared anymore.
I’m launching a new class to talk about this,
and it feels as new and sweet and precious
as a newborn.
If you’d like to join me, I’d be honored.

My least favorite part of motherhood
is the vomit.
No question.
Nothing else even comes close.
It doesn’t bother her nearly as much:
five hours later she was running around
laughing her head off
and asking for chocolate.

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