advice...

so remember when i told you about her? well. she's moving her family to new york. this. week. that thrills me. makes me forget all about my girlies three never listening to me.

now i'm in full-on advice mode. oh, you? you should move to bolivia. it's warm there. and you? wear more black. less patterns. also, eat more jellybeans. they don't hurt your taste-buds after over-indulging.

hmm. my advice isn't nearly as golden written out as it is when it's sitting in my head.

since uncle sugar's been traveling, we've been emailing. now, he and i talk a lot. a lot a lot. that guy has such great stories. i remember when we first met in college and he'd come to see me on the weekend. just before he walked out of the door on sundays, i'd ask him about...ohh...bullfights. and he'd spend an hour describing one he saw in spain. another time, it was the holocaust museum in paris. another time, it was a heartbreaking conversation with a palestinian. and on forever on.

i have much different tales. less facts, for sure.




anyway. we're back to telling stories back and forth. written out, they're so much more precious. meaningful. intentional. does that make sense?

i told him i'm going to keep writing to him even after he comes home. and he wrote back isn't that what you're doing with mackin ink?

yes, pat. this is all for you.

images from here and here. also. my nephew - i can't even brag enough about this guy. so supra-brainy and fielding full-ride ice hockey scholarships to major smarty-pants unis in, say, boston and pretty much every other cool city. someday, i'll tell you about my sister-in-law christina. greatest mom ever invented. - made a rap video with his friends ABOUT CALCULUS. i think it's about calculus. you know how i am with math. anyway. they're studying for their AP calculus exams and they all want to {and will} earn perfect fives. i don't know...i think hard-working rapper boys who love math need a little extra love. here's the link if you want to give them any. theo starts around the 2.32 mark. also, he's fluent in german and italian. they only moved to the states a few years ago from italy, so you can still sort of hear an accent. ugh. can you tell how i love that boy? have a sweetheart weekend, you little sweethearts...xoxo.

my weekly wrist....

when uncle sugar is away, i wear his watch.

the exchange always goes the same way. he clasps it on my wrist and says don't lose it like he's not talking about the watch. and i wave my hand and say oh, pat...it's insured! and then he says don't lose it like he's actually talking about the watch.

it is a leetle stressful, but far less so than...say...the nightmare i had last night.

we were living in the next place where we're set to live, and the girlies were playing lacrosse catch on the back lawn. all of a sudden, an anaconda slithered into the scene.

{note: this morning, i wiki'd whether or not there are any anacondas in the next place where we're set to live. there are not. however, there are reticulated pythons that can grow as long or longer as anacondas. also, they are faster and more agile. and that news kind of stinks.}

i screamed for the girlies to come. and they turned and looked at me and asked why? or what? i can't remember and both words honestly make my blood turn black.

used to be, i could fake-whistle {i can't whistle. did you know this? so i make this sound like psst-psst. and then my girlies and everyone else in the universe who can't whistle turn and look at me. it's the best i can do.} and the girlies would come running. no questions.

used to be, they told their teachers that, no, in fact there are six senses. the sixth one is the one that tells you when someone's going to kidnap you. now? their sixth sense is a creepy whisper from the top bunk...i see dead people.

used to be, we'd head back to the states for a visit and they'd ask their nona why the heck she was driving with her windows open. someone can throw a bomb in your car, nona! did she not know this? illinois is a dangerous place.

oh dear. i'm trying to think of an ending for this post and i'm all why am i telling these poor things about fake whistles and reticulated pythons?! how did i end up here? i was supposed to walk in, show you my wrist, maybe tell you how i am missing my uncle sugar and how i wear his watch and these ridiculous kukui beads he bought from a gift shop and how someone yesterday asked why i never wear my wedding rings and how i answered ummm. the guy's name is tattooed on my foot. i need the rings, as well?!

oh dear. the end.

dumb...

i never really understand how desperately i need uncle sugar until he's far away and more than a little out of range.

his responses to all my worries - and you know i have a few. ugh. - are usually enders.




after i agonize for five or ten about what may appear on the surface to be super-nonsense but really really matters when you erase all that really really really matters in the world, he replies accordingly.

which usually sounds like that's dumb. or she's dumb. or i don't want my babies anywhere near dumb.

i know what you're thinking. "karey. that's not-so-great a reply. a four-year old can do better than that."

well. to this i say...try it.

the next time someone's trying to make you feel small or trying to seem like they're way bigger than you, look at them. shake your head as though you're trying to clear them from your memory, and say to them, "you're. dumb." dripping with dismissal.

and then walk away. or stay. whatever. it won't matter because they. no. longer. matter.




wait. whoa. i just remembered a very very important part: DO NOT SAY THIS OUT LOUD! that would be a very very bad thing. and you would not feel good about yourself. and what if you all of a sudden found yourself smack in the middle of a four-year old kind of an argument? like, no...you're dumb. you are! no, you are!

you must keep this thought in your head where such thoughts belong. for example, i keep mine in between "those pants are giving you an unfortunate wedgie, madame." and that old chestnut "your kid is a mute dolt."

ugh. do you even know what pat might say about this post? i do, too. and he would be right.

i'd much rather he were here.

i love the vast dirty land that is tumblr. found images here and here.

happy tuesday...

be back in a bit with words. probably not better than these, though...

awesome, yes? found here. have a sweetheart tuesday, you little sweethearts. xoxo. and thank you again for your sweet everythings yesterday. they meant...well...everything.

normal...

my doctor's office called, and i'm fine!

or, as the nurse phrased it, as normal as you can be, honey.




between me and you and don't you dare tell a soul, i ignored that teeny dig and got a little choked up. i called uncle sugar straight-away and my fine sounded like a sob. he laughed it away as he always does, with a drawn-out, four syllable baby!

he asked baby...why do you still get so upset?

i guess probably because i'm still so upset.

next check-up, i'm going to be braver. more casual. totally all "what has two thumbs and doesn't care? this girl!" thank you for helping me through this one. it'll never happen again. promise. xoxo. p.s. what has two thumbs and is totally lying her pants off and will need you again for sure? this girl. also, i adore rose-colored glasses.

miffed...

i am miffed. or something else, but i can't really define it.

i can't get my mammography results because they can't give that information over the phone. in fact, they can't even give that information to me. nope. they have to give it to my new creepy doctor who will then let me know when she's back in the office. next week.

yesterday, i was waiting for my appointment and trying to read an espn magazine - because that's what magazine a women's radiology clinic should stock - and trying like mad not to look at the woman wiping tears from her eyes and trying even harder than that not to look at her husband, whose hand was gripped so tightly around her knee and whose leg was tapping scared-nervously and trying most harder than that not to look at her mom...who, damn it, was sitting stiffly and holding her purse in her lap and looking like she wanted to be holding her baby instead. and the girls at the desk were giggling on the phone.




and i wanted to tell them to knock it off, their pretending that there was anything funny left in the world.

then i was waiting in my little robe and missing my lotions and potions and thinking i certainly did not smell like me, when i overheard the nurse talking to the woman in the room next to mine. all business. when did you find the lump? did you find it or did your doctor find it? is this your insurance? do you have secondary insurance? and when the woman had a question, it was all business. i'm sorry, ma'am. you'll have to talk to your doctor about that. i'm sorry, ma'am. i can't speak to that. i'm sorry, ma'am. i'm not allowed to say.

and i wanted to tell her to knock it off, with her third-grade teacher tone.

my first mammogram after my sister died took place in oman. the technician in the room with me was fully covered, spoke very little english or just chose not to, and took most of her time making sure i didn't feel naked. afterwards, i asked if everything looked okay. and she looked. and she looked some more. and then she nodded and said okay. you're okay.

and i remember losing it. like tears waterfalling. spilling my heart out and telling her all about my sister and my heart-broken mom and my babies and how i just have to stay okay. and she sat next to me and put her wing around me and just kept saying how everything's okay.

i had a few in jordan with the same level of care and understanding. one tech even showed me film of a patient with a lump...just so i could see how different her scans looked from mine.

both countries, not one question about whether or not i'd pay. nothing to do with secondary or primary insurance or by law, i'm not allowed to say.




uncle sugar is right. i swim upstream. i'm drawn to different every time. i am a brat.

i was just talking to my doctor's office.

"ma'am. we leave at noon. there will be no one here to read your results."

"can't you stay a little extra today?" i asked softly.

"ma'am? i'm sorry?" with her third-grade teacher voice.

"i hate it here." i said even softer.

"ma'am?" moving up to fourth-grade, at least.

yeah. i guess miffed is not exactly the right word. most of the ones above are. xoxo. photos from idon'tknowwhere.

my other wrist...

my morning's already been a little crazed.

mostly due to a sleepless night worrying over esmé's naughtiness, a two a.m. search for a stinkbug in the pitch black, three girlies to three schools, and finding my new neighbor's lost dog on my front lawn. eating a rabbit. that had probably been eating my front lawn a few minutes earlier. circle of life. plus ants.

i think there are two types of people in the world. those who spray their counter-tops and entire kitchens with raid until everyone's coughing...and those who do not.

cough.

i'm having a heck of a time finding joy in this wednesday. i just am. i'm laughing about it, but also kind of rolling my eyes and sighing a little, too. and then! the woman called to remind me about my mammogram tomorrow and my response was honestly "uhhh...like i've been thinking about anything else all week!"

so smart and kind.




anyway. my right wrist cheers me up immensely. i wear this bauble mostly when i shouldn't. with tee shirts and flip-flops.

the stones race all the way 'round in varying degrees of blue. uncle sugar said it reminded him of my eyes.

we should all remember that...telling someone that you gave them this particular gift because it reminded you of their something-whatevers. it makes the gift sound more like i love you.

{esmé's taken to mixing all her puzzles together to make it more of a challenge. this is an endearing quirk, i think.}

life is like a carnival...

we took the girlies three for a quick burst of carnival last night. rain clouds have been popping since it came to town, but there was a short serendipitous window where swim team was cancelled {by grae} and uncle sugar came home a little early and esmé and i...well...we're always available for adventure.

i think you can tell a lot about yourself by the way you respond to a carnival. i really do.

take lillie, for example. the little charmer tried to talk nearly every gamer into accepting her tickets instead of money. shocked every time when the men growled and pointed to the sign.

oh dear, she'd say. i've no money. and then she'd turn slowly and walk away, waiting for them to see her sadness draped over her slumped shoulders and stop her. recognizing for the first time in their grizzled little lives that carnivals are about so much more than making money.

apparently, it's difficult to see such things with cross-eyes.

grae was in heaven. truth be told, we went for her. that little thing loves a good freak show. she didn't care as much about the rides as she did to see to the world's tallest horse, the world's smallest devil boy, a goat with five legs, and a midget bull. also, she was clearly checking the ticket taker at the door of this exhibit for his...errr...special peccadillo.

he had a few.

remember this quote? i think of it every time i see her walk around in the world.

esmé. oh, esmé. she was dead-silent the entire time unless we were on a death ride. she let out an occasional wooo! threw her hands up in the air like uncle sugar taught her, and then grabbed the bar in front of her like it would actually save her. silly girl.




at one point, she hisspered to me everyone's so pretty here.

i scrunched up my face and looked around and scrunched up my face even more. are you kidding me, esmé?

she took a deep, shaky breath and looked around again. well. i'm sure they're nice. to someone.

i like a girl who can dig a compliment out of dirt.

after a deep-fried oreo and one shared funnel cake, we escaped for some nasi goreng and satay. just practice for our next adventure...

it's true, isn't it? how you respond to carnivals is really close to how you respond to life? maybe? anyway. i want to be the first photo when i get a little older. and that is one gorgeous line in the second, yes?

a birthday...

so. today would be my dad's birthday.

i remembered while putting esmé to bed last night. i was telling her a story about one of my grandmothers. she only really lives in one of my memories about a trip to kmart, starring my incessant and - in retrospect and from my somewhat adult vantage point - annoying requests that she buy me a toy. i called her leona harvey, which is probably why she said no to every request.



esmé's favorite parts of my stories are always the ones i invent. like how this leona harvey character asked me to sit on her lap and i said no, i did not think that would be a good idea. but she insisted and you know how grandmothers are and you kind of know how i am...so i sat in her lap and then sneezed on her face so that she would never ever never again make the mistake of making me do something i did not wish to do.

that did not really happen with me and leona harvey. it did, however, happen with a work friend of my father's.

when i told esmé about my dad's birthday, she smiled, cooed a little as she does when she sees a shade of sadness, and then asked "did you love him?"

i told her he was my favorite person. and how, every time i'm with my oldest brother, i get a lump in my throat. he reminds me so much of my dad.

you know, my brother emptied out everything of my dad's after he died. his gun collection, his cane collection, all of his tools and anything else that had belonged to him. he took everything home and set it all out where he could see them anytime he wanted to see them. the rest of us didn't care one bit. not one. they had been best friends and we were all glad they'd had each other.




used to be, he and my dad spoke nightly after either seeing each other or speaking a few times during the day. for a few weeks after my dad died, i think he called my mom or one of my uncles or anyone else who could possibly take my dad's place as his best friend.

i don't think he's ever found another.

sometimes, when i try to define true love, i think of those two.

do you ever wonder how hard people will miss you after you're long gone? i do.

eh. it's probably my doctor's appointment or maybe that my mammogram is scheduled for thursday or maybe that i'm just plain worry-head. seriously: i'm convinced i have every cancer symptom google-able. even the silent ones.

happy monday, you. did you have a sweetheart weekend like i told you to have? say yes...photos from hella cool stash studios. look for one of those cuffs to appear in my weekly wrist post someday soon. and? her model is named esme. did you know i love that name?

forms...

i have so much to tell you and nothing at all. which may be why i'm scowling right now. either that, or it's because it's 2.40 in the afternoon and i've not had any coffee yet.

i went to the doctor today for a check-up and i wanted my blood pressure to be king, so i passed on the espressos. it worked. ninety-five over seventy. {is it weird that my original sentence was ninety-five over seventy! what now?! i think it might be weird.}




so many silly forms, yes? they started making me a teensy bit angry the third time i was asked to promise to pay my bill. which may be why, when i reached the box where you're asked how many people in your family had, like, cancer...i checked not applicable.

that was bad. but it's not like it could get worse...

until the doctor asked me again about all that cancer business. i took a deep, adult breath, and decided it was not the right time to tell her that my maternal grandmother, father, and oldest sister had all had cancer.

until they died.

of cancer.




I KNOW! i don't know what i was thinking. i kind of feel bad about it. but also? i kind of feel like i just rewrote my life. and a story without anyone i love dying of cancer is a fine one to read every once in a while. even if it is fiction.

uncle sugar called me a brat. i probably am. but...i'm a brat with a blood pressure of ninety-five over seventy! what now?!

dear blogger. you may delete this post anytime you'd like. no one will mind one bit. promise. xoxo and have a sweetheart weekend, you little sweethearts. photos that make absolutely no sense in relation to this post found here from this tumblr. which make perfect sense.

my weekly wrist...

one of my favorite questions ever in the history of questions is is it real?

because then i know you're kind of a jerk.

kidding. {not really.}

my standard answer is can you see it? then it's real.

do you have a more grown up answer than that? share, please...



uncle sugar loves real. when he gave me my first fancy watch, i burst into tears. i think i didn't want to be that girl in a fancy watch. and it wasn't until i insured it and the guy from usaa told me how his father had given him a fancy watch that his father had given to him...that i understood the meaning behind it.

i'd say anytime someone's scheduling you into their forever happily ever after...well...it's pretty wonderful, if you think about it.

and before you even ask. the bracelets? i think one might be real, but i can't be sure. pat won't tell me anymore lest i start crying again. the rings? umm. can you see them?

{i was going to add comma jerk, but i can't even joke about that with you! you're my sweethearts, through and through. you just are. going to play fancy lady with esmé now. have a sweetheart wednesday, you. xoxo.}

basketball shorts...

i should not be writing one thing today. i really shouldn't.

grae and i went to lillie's choir concert last night, giggling and chair dancing for the entire hour. especially when we saw lillie singing her high girlie part as directed, and then jumping in without thinking to the low boy part. you would've died. she dipped her little chin and raised her eyebrows like she was singing in front of the mirror or me to crack herself up. and then she remembered where she was and made that "huh? who did that?" guilty pink face.

i love it when those two are carefree.




we had a few physicals and immunizations yesterday, and the doctor asked lillie if she wanted me to stay in the room. i kept a calm face but kind of held my breath, wondering what she'd want. she asked if i could stay. even added a please.

i thought i wouldn't mind staying with her forever.

this morning, i asked if she could stop forming the red babybel wax into random balls and smiley faces all over our walls, windows and mirrors. she rolled her eyes.

she came downstairs, presumably dressed for school, in basketball shorts. basketball shorts?! really?! i kind of lost it a little and said no. way. about ten times.




what message are you trying to send, lill? i asked. hey, guys! anyone want to shoot a quick game of horse? what? oh, me? no, i've never in my entire twelve years played one stitch of basketball unless you count the time i whipped one at gracie at target when i was four and then laughed so hard i peeped my pants in the sporting goods section and had to buy a new outfit and then laughed so hard when i retold the story to grammy that i almost peeped my pants again, and i don't even think my family owns a basketball but today seemed like a good day to break out the low-riders AND UNTIE MY SHOELACES!

she rolled her eyes again and said "you hate me."

and then i stopped and smiled and reminded her that she is my first baby. i've loved her longer than the other two. i remember every single day of her life. her chandelier smile lit up the auditorium last night, just as it has added a night light to my heart. she's taught me how to love, how to worry, and how to care for another person so much that you'd end just to give her a beginning.

also, she has fantastic lips and a really cool bump on her nose that makes her look thug-lite, and how in the world could i hate someone with those qualities?

and that the only thing i hate are basketball shorts. and skeevy dads. but mostly basketball shorts. so please go change.




after the older two left, i tucked in their sheets on their top bunks so that they can check their beds easier just in case a stinkbug tries to sneak in while they're at school. lillie still keeps her stuffed animals from when she was brand new, as does grae, and i arranged them all carefully.

esmé noticed that my eyes got a little misty, and asked what was so sad about drowsy and petey, both a little more than twelve.

ohhh, i answered. it just breaks my heart a little...they're getting so old.

all these photographs remind me of my lillie in different ways. here, here, and here.

yes to this...

major weekend. lovely times one billion. minus a few for the birthday cards i allowed the girlies three to choose for their dad. apparently, they are at an age where bums and boobies cards - as esmé affectionately calls them now - rule.

the notes they wrote inside, however, were adorable and made our boy get a little misty. as did my birthday plans for him.

i just backspaced over the words i'm and so and happy and these and days. it's funny how nervous i get about happiness. like someone's going to steal it away from me as soon as i declare my love for it.




i tried to explain this feeling to lillie a few weeks ago...about karma and guilt and worry and superstition and all the other nonsense i know i should throw away one of these days...and she was so out-of-character matter-of-fact in her response. you've no one mean around you that wants to steal your good stuff, she said with a little wave of her hand.

and she's so right. i think i've gotten rid of all those people. finally.

the only people these days that worry me are small. one in particular is quite tiny. and she's making me promise daily that i'll be sure to remember that, for her birthday in september, she wants a really really really good card. one with lots of bums and boobies. i will probably say yes.

last night, we were standing in the front and chatting with neighbors as the sun set. smack in the middle of a funny story, my neighbor stopped, pointed to my doorway behind me, and asked "does esmé always drink milk straight from the container?"

lillie might be only a little right. there are people around me who want to steal my stuff. off to the grocery to buy milk for my coffee this morning...

i want gray hair so bad, i can taste it.

happy mother's day weekend...

also, it's pat's birthday tomorrow. so i almost replaced the word mother in the photo above with uncle sugar. it makes sense if you don't really have sense. words by sharon doubiago, found first here. photo of my baby's clementine by her. merge by moi.

friends...

i was smack in the middle of a thinking of you mail to one of my oldest and dearest when all my random panics came pouring out.

remind me what we were like then. i know we were naughty, but were we mean? were we ever lonely? were we as giggly as the memories i've kept? do you think our moms waited for us after school with bitten bottom lips? stayed up all night with worried wishes? tell me how this turns out again.

within minutes, there was my reassurance. or, as it's been for as long as i can remember, a shared understanding.




and i wrote back i miss us together. because i do. terribly.

i was telling someone about our summer 2012 plans, and they gasped and asked aren't you scared to live so far away? won't you all miss your friends?

remember me telling you about my favorite toni morrison quote? not found in any of her books, but rather on a dedication page. {i know. shameful, isn't it?}

it is sheer good fortune to miss someone long before they ever leave you.

it's how i've always felt, a lifetime before i even found those words. i think it's the perfect definition of friendship, don't you?

xoxo to you and all your friends. tennis girlies like me and beth found here.

are you going to keep it...

when i found out i was pregnant with grae-rose, lillie was just about three months old and i was still about twenty pounds more of my usual me. it wasn't pretty. so i went to my hair salon to find pretty.

it all makes sense if you connect my dots with squiggly lines.

while i was there, i thought i'd try out my crazy news on my colorist.

i'm pregnant again. and then i started to giggle uncontrollably.




she looked...uhhh...like i'd just told her crazy news. and the first thing she said was are you going to keep it?

now. i can quote the princess bride and the usual suspects and pretty much every episode of pee wee's playhouse, so there shouldn't really be room in my petite brain for that one line from that person...but there is. it's stayed for over eleven years now.

it's most likely taking up the space where my decision-making skills should be.

anyway. a few days ago, i was kind of eavesdropping on a guy talking about his wife's bed-rest. apparently, she'd been under strict orders since she was eleven weeks along. she is now up to thirteen. it sounded...precarious.

so my friend - who you would totally enjoy, by the way, but who will say whatever she's thinking without really thinking - asked some questions and you could tell the guy really wanted to talk to someone who wouldn't get all light-headed and cover her ears and hum so she couldn't hear all the medical terms. like bed-rest. which is probably why he wasn't talking to me.




i could tell my friend wanted to make him feel better, but what came out was oh, don't worry about it. you can always try again.

ummm. but. they're still kind of trying with this one.

it reminds me of something i said to our very first friends who had a baby. i was trying to be all i'm with you! and i think i said {sigh. i know i said.} i'm sure it'll be like a puppy! hard to train but super fun once it gets the hang of it.

i'm much better with words now.

pinterest is killing it today. i WISH i could quote all the lines from snatch. brad pitt is genius in it. this scene makes me and uncle sugar laugh so hard we have to plug our noses. well...i guess i'm the only one who does that. here and here.

my weekly wrist...

i think i'm probably kidding. this is not a new feature. unless it is.

i just promised my kelly i'd show her the bracelets she found for me.



but between me and you, i would've rather she'd bought them for me...

{if you're reading this and your name is kelly from design crush, i'm only kidding. everyone else? totally serious.}

oh, and please forgive the red ribbon. it's a friendship bracelet from esmé. perhaps i will post diy instructions later? kidding again. sigh. i have a giant sinking feeling that i'm the only one who's going to find myself amusing today. happy tuesday, you. xoxo.

don't be fooled...

this weekend was strange. i've no better word for it and i'm too blurry to search for one.

in a nutshell. lillie and grae were fab and fun. esmé was a beast.




she's sort of going through this strange stage where she gets so upset and cries like a banshee and doesn't even care who hears her. i mean, packed public places with other children who aren't wearing fancy dresses with stinking grey uggs. it looks like they've even brushed their hair, some of these little people. it's amazing. and they're quiet. weirder still, they're not punching anyone in frustration.

there. there's the key word. she is frustrated. i know this and she knows this and everyone knows this. it's just that i have to be at grae's school in about an hour and esmé's coming with me because grae's insisting on it and we are all secretly a little scared.

yesterday, i missed the girlies' lacrosse game because esmé had a wedgie. also, she used my scarf to wipe the mud from her stinking gray uggs. i would've been mad but the little thing tried to wash my scarf afterwards. so then i was just furious.

uncle sugar brought home three tiny bags of gummy worms for the girlies. i'm not good with math and neither is esmé, apparently, because she devoured them all herself.




also, she called pretty much everyone she saw a boob. and then spelled it. b-o-o-b. she was whispering, but still. it's not that hard to read her lips.

and then last night, she saw a commercial that really touched her. it was that collegeinyourpjs.com brilliance.

i'm going to college there! she declared.

you can't. i snapped. you don't wear pajamas.

there was one shining moment when another mom at another lacrosse game where esmé was not bothered by anything wedgie gave her a blanket so she could make a tent. in the mud. the way she thanked this woman, you would have thought she'd just been given ten target gift cards. you could tell the woman was charmed by her effusiveness. i, however, was not.

she's not really that nice, i muttered.

but that monster of mine just grinned at me and i could see her mouthing those four fateful letters.

b-o-o-b.

keep your fingers crossed that the little monkey doesn't tell grae's teacher that her sister thinks she's unorganized. sigh. photo of esmé by amie adams.