note to self ::

just to file away for those days when you feel useless and incompetent :: You're a resourceful genius who never lets the clown run out of sprinkles.


Tonight I'm thankful for sprinkles and the pure joy they bring my kids and the joy I take in their delight. My house. This house that we fought so hard to make our own and that challenges us to plant roots and plan for and implement projects and to grow. To grow as providers, as nurturers, as collectors and as appreciators. For friends who make me laugh and swear and remember and feel young and unencumbered and less alone in the world of parenting small humans. MAS who lets me "sleep in" until 8 o'clock on some weekend mornings and chases little boys so I don't have to. For wine that dulls the chaos and questioning. A job that makes me think and scream and plot and still be able to leave early to pick up a kids most nights. For toy cars and tivo'd Mister Rogers that buy me time. For toddler shrieks and kisses that make it all makes sense. And my camera. My camera forces me to stop and see and remember and take it all in.

Happy Thanksgiving.

a little bit funny

The Bean: So, does Santa bring A LOT of presents for us??

MAS and I turn and look at each other. MAS says something under her breath along the lines of "we need to figure out what the right answer is..."

US: Well, you know... Santa brings more presents than you get on a regular day ** and/or** three...or...four.

Me: you know what!? you should make a list and Santa will review it as soon as Thanksgiving is over.

The Bean: okay. How do you spell cars?


oh yeah right, like we hadn't already thought of that.

living in my head

I work at a place where it's pretty obvious when it's holiday or vacation season. I see families getting ready to brave countless hours on an airplane with small children on a daily basis. Going to visit family and friends in far away places. What usually strikes me is how incredibly cheerful they look. And that's where it all starts to go downhill for me.

"Why can't I feel like that?"
"Why do my small children leave me acting so harried and unkind?"
"God! What must people think of me looking so surly and tired?"
"I'll bet that woman has a great relationship with her mom and and is really looking forward to a nice, long Thanksgiving visit."
"I suck."

And on and on and on. It all starts in my head and makes me fantasize about a fictional family caroling together in a perfect little snow globe world. There they are, preparing to fling across the county toward a loving supportive family who thoroughly enjoys and appreciates time together with turkey and peppermint eggnog and roaring fires that kids don't try and touch and christmas tress that don't topple over when the cat plays with an ornament. While the reality in all these cases may be much closer to my experience than I allow myself to believe, it often feels like I'm the only one negotiating with their spouse down to the minute how long we'll stay for a holiday dinner or crying in frustration that the scotch tape keeps folding over on itself while I'm attempting to play Santa at midnight. Why do I torture myself with visions of how easy and enjoyable it must be for everyone but me? The truth is my kids are really pretty great and can't be blamed for my current state of mind. They're happy and healthy and for the most part, put up with me and my demands for photos, kisses and quiet every now and then. And their hair smells so amazing that I should just shut up and sniff one of their heads for awhile. Right?