Three Years Ago

Three years ago. It seems like it was only yesterday. I can remember the sights, the smells, the sounds of that moment. I can even remember what it felt like to touch you.

Three years ago. It seems like forever. I cannot remember what it was like before. It is as if things have always been this way.

Three years ago, everything changed.

Three years ago, I became the person I was meant to be. The person that nineteen years of education and thirty seven years of living had not prepared me for.

Three years ago, I became a mother.

Three years ago, we became a family.

Three years ago, we traveled half way around the world to meet you.

Three years ago, one journey ended and another one began.

Three years ago, there was you.



Three years ago, there was us.



Three years ago, there was forever.

Illogical

Last night as I was brushing my teeth, I looked in the mirror and did an inspection of what I saw.

I noticed the winter paleness was already setting in, perhaps a result of having 3 sunny days in the entire month of October. I made a mental note to use a little blush so I could look human again. I noticed a pimple on my chin and sighed. 40 years old and I'm still getting pimples.

I moved on to my hair. As I said before, I'm a bit vain about my hair. I like it to look good. For a while now, I've been getting red highlights in my hair. I love them. They make me feel like a rebellious teenager at 40. But they don't last. I had them done 3 weeks ago and as I looked in the mirror I saw a blondish, pinkish, orangey mess. Not good. So I don't think I'll be getting them the next time I go in.

Then I looked at my roots. My hair has been colored various shades over the past 20 years and I don't know my real color anymore. I didn't get my roots done last time I went in, so its been over two months and you couldn't tell. So apparently I'm paying money to dye my hair its natural color (well with a little more red but its basically the same).

My inspection was almost over and I was ready to go to bed when I saw it. At first I wasn't sure what I saw. I thought it might be, but no it couldn't really be. Could it? No it definitely was. A grey hair. My first grey hair.

I felt a strange sensation. It wasn't sadness. It wasn't regret at getting older. I am older, its a fact.

It was something much weirder. I was excited. I felt this strange thrill at having my first grey hair.

Why? Well I still feel like this stupid little kid most of the time. I feel like I have no idea what is going on. And maybe, just maybe grey hair will impart some sort of wisdom on me.

Illogical I know. Give me a week and I'm sure I'll hate it.

Tonight I Wore Red Lipstick

Tonight I wore red lipstick.

Tonight I was a different, more mysterious version of myself.

I always wanted to be the kind of girl who wore red lipstick, the girl who stood out in the crowd. Instead I was the girl who stood in the back wearing lip balm. If I was feeling particularly daring, I would wear a tinted lip balm or lip gloss. For business purposes I would wear my tried and true MAC Twig, a shade described as a soft, muted brownish-pink. It really fit me to a T, I am soft, muted and brownish-pink.

Sometimes I would experiment. I would try bolder, more adventurous colors. Trying to make myself more bold, more adventurous. Sometimes I succeeded. Sometimes I failed. In fact, I have a drawer full of my failures.

Red scared me. Red was too vivacious, too daring. Red was too red.

But one day, I crossed that imaginary line in the sand. I bought a red lipstick. I don't know if it was the right shade for me but I bought it. Carrying it home in my bag, it felt like I was carrying an ancient treasure. I was carrying something that would connect me with famous femme fatales throughout history.

I got home. I ran in the bathroom. I closed the door. I tried on the lipstick. And I hated it. I thought it looked good but I didn't look like me. I looked like someone else, someone who was trying too hard. So I hid it away in the medicine cabinet. Occasionally, I would try it on before I went out. But I would always chicken out, I would cover it with a gloss or another color. I would change it.

But not tonight. Tonight I wore red lipstick.

I was different.

I was the same.

I wore the same shirt and jeans I had run errands in earlier in the day. I traded out my converse for some high heeled boots (because a 5'10" woman can always stand to have an extra 2 inches). I wore perfume. I wore red lipstick.

I was me and I was confident.

For those of you who made it to the end, here are the football picks:

Minnesota @ Pittsburgh

San Francisco @ Houston

San Diego @ Kansas City

Green Bay @ Cleveland

Indianapolis @ St. Louis

New England @ Tampa Bay

Buffalo @ Carolina

NY Jets @ Oakland

Atlanta @ Dallas

Chicago @ Cincinnati

New Orleans @ Miami

Arizona @ NY Giants

Monday Night

Philadelphia @ Washington

Combined Score 35

Sharing is Caring

Now that Bunny is in school she is learning to share. Aside from her weekly play date and time spent with her cousins, she has never really had to share anything. The joys of being an only child. School is changing this. She has to share toys and books with the other kids in class. She also has to share her teachers' attention. And so far so good.

Wednesday was Bunny's turn with the sharing bag, her school's version of show and tell. When its their turn, each child gets the bag so they can bring a special object to school and share with the class. Now Bunny has already brought all of her special "guys" to school for comfort objects, so we had to come up with something the kids hadn't seen. Finally we decided on her new "favorite" toy, a rubber, stretchy green iguana named Liz.

The bag was supposed to have instructions for the parents on it. But Bunny's bag did not. So I didn't really know what we were supposed to do. I vaguely remember we were supposed to write out clues the kids could give their friends to guess what was in the bag, but how many? One? Two? Three? No idea. So I did the only thing I could, I asked Bunny.

"Bunny, how many clues do the kids give?"

"Two."

"Okay, what clues should we give?"

"No, three. One. I don't want to give clues."

"But that's how the sharing bag goes."

"Two."

"So we give two clues?"

"I don't want to share."

"But its your turn to share."

"Okay. Two. No, three. No, two."

"Okay we are doing two. What should they be?"

"Um, she has spines on her back."

"How about lets start off with its green."

"Okay. Then I'm gonna draw some spines on the paper."

"Sure. Let's go with that.

"Can I draw Liz?"

"Doesn't that defeat the purpose of the guessing game?"

"So I can't draw Liz?"

"No."

"I don't want to share."

"But it will be fun."

"Fine."

Sharing crisis averted. (Apparently it went fine and she actually shared.) Its good to share.

Bunny has also been kind enough to share things from school with Mommy. Specifically, her cold. In Bunny, it was a mildly irritating cold that turned her into a mini-Darth Vader. But when she gave it to me, it morphed into a nasty, yucky thing that actually gave me vertigo. The everything is spinning, your brain is going crazy kind of vertigo, not the Alfred Hitchcock movie Vertigo. The movie version would have been much preferred, I like Jimmy Stewart. I did not like the head spinny version.

Maybe its not good to share everything.

Life As We Used To Know It

Bunny had a sleep over at Ama and Baca's last night. Its a common enough occurrence and we all enjoy it. Bunny, Ama and Baca love it because they get to spend time together. Frink and I love it because we get to spend time together, alone.

We get to talk uninterrupted. We can go to non-kid friendly restaurants and stuff ourselves with margaritas, chips and salsa. Or we can cook a dinner together that does not involve food in nugget, stick or dog form. We can watch movies that do not have any talking animals or animated characters. In other words we get to be adults.

We also love it because we get to experience a peaceful night sleep. The kind of sleep where you don't have one ear open waiting to hear your child's cries. Deep, restorative sleep. Sleep that is only interrupted by a cat who decides the most comfortable place in all the world is on your feet. A nine pound cat, who in that magical sleeping cat form now weighs 1,000 pounds. And you have to struggle out from under this magically heavy sleeping cat to find a more comfortable position.

But that interruption is minor and your sleep is blissful. When you wake, you have no idea how long you've slept but you know that you are rested. Its only by the faint light behind your curtains, that you realize it is morning. You fumble for your glasses to read the clock and see the numbers six, four, zero.

You smile and wait for the sounds you know are coming, the fumbling of a door knob and the running of little feet. You wait for 33 pounds to launch itself onto your bed. You wait for a little girl, still warm from sleep, to dive underneath the covers. You wait for knees to find your stomach, for feet to kick your thighs, for little hands to reach out for yours. You wait for your morning ritual to begin.

Maybe with your hands clasped together, you will drift back to sleep. Or on weekend mornings, like today, the three of you will lie there giggling and whispering of upcoming adventures. On weekday mornings, she will try to hide under the covers when daddy returns from the shower. I say try to hide because one cannot successfully hide when one is giggling and "whispering" in an outside voice. But daddy plays along, pretending she's not there in that wiggling, giggling lump under the covers, all so she can jump up and yell Boo! And then, at 7 a.m., you can go downstairs and begin the day.

The noises you are waiting to hear don't come. The house is quiet. You realize that she is not here. The enjoyable evening you shared with husband and the restful night sleep you had don't seem as wonderful. There is something missing.

The morning that should hold so much promise because it is yours alone seems rather empty. You could get up and head out the door to run, the pounding of your feet on the earth, the cool crisp air in your lungs would surely energize you. You could make a pot of coffee and putter around the house, open the computer and read the blogs you have been neglecting for so long. Or you could hold on to the sleep that is slowly leaving your body, pull it back to you and drift back into its warm embrace.

You could do any of those things, but your heart's not really in it. The light that makes your day brighter, isn't here. So you just lie there and wait for it to return.

Suddenly, you hear a cry and feel a weight jump onto the bed. Is it her? Your heart starts warm with the possibility that maybe it was just a dream. That maybe she is really here.

No, she is not here. Its just one of your fur babies. The cat has seen you move and is now demanding to be fed. So you give up, get out of bed way too early and begin your day.

And you figure as long as you are up, you should make your stupid football picks (winners in bold and red):

Houston @ Cincinnati

Detroit @ Green Bay

St. Louis @ Jacksonville

Baltimore @ Minnesota

NY Giants @ New Orleans

Cleveland @ Pittsburgh

Carolina @ Tampa Bay

Kansas City @ Washington

Philadelphia @ Oakland

Arizona @ Seattle

Tennessee @ New England

Buffalo @ NY Jets

Chicago @ Atlanta

Monday Night Football:

Denver @ San Diego

Combined score: 42

Check out the rest of the BFL action here.

Artistic Revolution

An artist lives and breathes their work. To create is to live. Like the artist themselves, their work is constantly evolving. One cannot work in the same style, creating the same thing over and over again. They need to grow, to develop, to expand their horizons.

Still the quest for artistic growth can mean a radical departure. A change in style from representational art to abstract impressionism or vice versa can be quite shocking for the viewing public.

Especially their parents.

In Bunny's short artistic career, she has moved from Let's mix all the colors together and see what happens


To her Hamstack period


To a more representational style


I know that she is learning and figuring out how to represent her world, but I miss the Hamstacks.

BFL Picks

I know I've been slacking on posting this week but I've been busy with adoption related stuff. I promise to be a much better blogger this week and come up with something more interesting than football picks. Really.

So here are my picks for this week. The winners are in bold and red:

Cleveland @ Buffalo
Pittsburgh @ Detroit
Dallas @ Kansas City
Minnesota @ St. Louis
Oakland @ NY Giants
Tampa @ Philadelphia
Washington @ Carolina
Cincinnati @ Baltimore
Atlanta @ San Francisco
Jacksonville @ Seattle
Houston @ Arizona
New England @ Denver
Indianapolis @ Tennessee

Monday Night
NY Jets @ Miami
Combined score: 38

On Fish, Books and Football

There is a new resident in our house, a small beta fish named Shape. Shape is a beautiful beta. He is blue and red and very fancy. Bunny loves him very much.

I was all for Bunny having a fish. In fact, I told her she could have a fish when she was six. She is not six. She is three and a half. I did not buy her the fish, daddy did. My main concern about bringing a fish into the house was not Bunny. It was the two furry felines that live with us. They like to hunt and in fact have each caught a mouse (or two). I was afraid that if the cats knew there was a fish, that fish would be no more. Then Bunny would be sad and we'd have to buy a new fish and the cycle would start again.

But he is here now. He will live in Bunny's room. The door will remain closed at all times. And hopefully the cats will remain blissfully unaware of his existence. Fingers crossed.

For my birthday last week, my parents bought me a book. Its not just any old book. It is THE book, Andrew Henry's Meadow. The book that I had them read to me every night of my childhood. It was a long book but I had it memorized. My dad would try to skip some pages but I always knew and called him on it every time. I loved that book. (They may or may not be making it into a movie which I am so going to see.)

So it was amazing to see it again after all of those years. I read it to Bunny, telling her it was my favorite story when I was her age. And then she had me read it again. And again. And again. Its a really long book. Really long. So I tried to skip a page and she called me on it.

Well played, Mom and Dad. Well played.

Now on to my football picks. The winners are in red and bold:

Tampa Bay @ Washington

NY Giants @ Kansas City

Cincinnati @ Cleveland

Oakland @ Houston

Tennessee @ Jacksonville

Seattle @ Indianapolis

Detroit @ Chicago

Baltimore @ New England

Buffalo @ Miami

NY Jets @ New Orleans

St. Louis @ San Francisco

Dallas @ Denver

San Diego @ Pittsburgh

Monday Night

Green Bay @ Minnesota

Combined Score - 45