don't forget...

you're the biggest gift you can give to someone else.

i know i'm grateful as heck for you. merry days, you little sweethearts. xoxo.

circumstances...

there are people out there who you might not know that well and you might not see them so often and you probably don't even know their circumstances yet - which is kind of my new word because i feel like we all need circumstances to carry along with us so we can explain ourselves away a little better straight-away, like those people who wear the goofy tees like i'm with stupid or like the girl in lillie's pe class who wears thongs with questions on them, which leads me to worry incessantly about her circumstances, but that's not a story for today. - but it all melts down in your heart to one thought: i like that person.

here's the thing about melissa. i like that person. and when she asked if i'd write a little something for her, i said yes. and then i did a crap job with the writing part.

but here's the thing about melissa. she told me it was perfect. that it made her heart flutter. and i believed her.

i like that person very much.

my gimme bar is so much fun. you can look at all of my gimmes if you click on that hot pink positive on my sidebar.

truth...

did you have to read that twice? i did, too. but all of a sudden, it makes all the sense in the world.

although i think i'd replace success with happiness.

xoxo from me to you.

last night...

mondays are tough, yes? i've never been able to fall in love with a monday.

until last night. when i treated her like friday.

we hit pause on homework and writing and studying bahasa indonesian. meandered through shops and didn't listen to the radio in the car and laughed lazily, as if we had all the time in the world together.

we all need unexpected nights like that. they're, like, rare birds that make you gasp when they fly by. finding twenty dollars at the bottom of your bag. the same feeling as a snow day, but better...because you chose it.

we strolled by santa and there was absolutely no line. esmé looked at me and asked if she could go talk to him.




do you think he's the real one? she whispered.

if you feel it, you'll know. i reminded her.

i've always told them to trust their instincts. that believing is so much more wonderful than the alternative. and that santa can't be everywhere at once, so he pops in to malls every so often, serendipitously and luckily for us. and so if we see him and our heart starts to race a little, swell a lot, maybe our eyes water a little? that's him.

anyway. she met santa last night.

later, i was holding her before she fell asleep. someday, i'll be able to do this myself, she told me, kind of in apology.

no rush. no rush at all.

three...

my mom called late last week. we talked about when she'd get here for the holidays and i tried to convince her to come even earlier and leave way later. like, the day after never. and then she mentioned her mammogram...and...well...how she has to go back.

i just filled up two paragraphs with panic. but there's no need stating the obvious, is there? delete that. instead, i'll tell you something else.



when the girlies three came home from school, i asked them to be extra nice to each other. kindness brings good luck, i think. and then i told them about their grammy and how she needs a little bit of it.

grae - and before i tell you her diagnosis, please remember that she has watched every gross emergency room-ish show on telly, so she clearly is coming at this with a massive yet surprisingly worthless degree of knowledge - is convinced that this little blip has been caused by stress, and promptly vowed to slit the throats of anyone responsible for said stress thrown at her grammy.

i knew she'd make a great physician, but this violent streak makes me wonder if she wouldn't be better off in the mafia.

esmé followed me around for at least ten minutes after she heard the news. oh, great, she said. now you're not going to have a mom. you already don't have a dad or a lin...and with your mom gone, too...you won't have anyone.

i tried listing all the people i do have left and - let's not get ahead of ourselves, esmé! - reminding her that they just want my mom to come back and re-check something that didn't look quite right. that certainly doesn't mean the end, esmé!

but she just looked at me like what are we gonna do, mom? this is life. we're all dying.




note to self: never ever do not ever allow that kid to be a hostage negotiator.

but lillie. that one breaks my heart. as soon as she heard, it was like all her lights went out. just like that.

will she be okay? she asked two days later, with a serious absence of chandelier.

yes, grae answered, definitively.

and she should know. this is nothing compared to the guy with the golf club stuck through his head. even though it feels like everything.

no...

a good reminder for fighty, peeved little old me.

this shall include but is not limited to moods, eff words, and combative parenting skills. of which i have an abundance.

teasing. i just liked the image. and you. xoxo. also, this is the question, isn't it?

i'll probably regret this one...

so. last night, lillie's science teacher sends out a class mail. something about people talking too much and not listening to her and could the parents please reinforce zipping it in her class and she'd greatly appreciate it.

i asked lillie about it, and she looked a little confused. the only person i talk to is my teacher...and...maybe the kids around me. but we were taking a test today and i used up all the time in class and i didn't really get a chance to talk to anyone.

i see. so i wrote a little note in return, saying that i was sure lillie was one of the chatters. and, for that, my apologies. that lillie will do her best to zip it. but that what really was important to me is how lill's been studying like a fiend and how self-motivated she's grown and how interested she is. heavy emphasis on interested. and that i hope she's enjoying lillie as much as we do.

lillie read the note over my shoulder. i swear, her chandelier smile would've lit a path from my house to yours. swear.

really? she asked. thank you, mom.

i told her not to let anyone else write her about section. ever. i don't think she understood that at all, but you will, yes?

so the teacher wrote back this morning. said that lillie was, indeed, a too-much talker. that, while lill is a joy to have in class and while she is proud of lill's efforts and interest, she's not a fan of lillie's love for the side conversation.




agreed, i wrote back. a million times over. that we'll work on the chatting, but that i'm quite sure her love of interacting with everyone is a brilliant skill that will come in handy someday. it seems i only need to be concerned with getting her past seventh grade science.

i'm not having it. i couldn't help but push back a little.

all these kids...they're all the same. they're either little hoochie-mamas with low-cut shirts and even lower values, or else they're - as lillie and grae call them - chihuahuas. the kinds of girls who start shaking when anyone even looks at them. the kinds of girls who would never dare talk in class, not to mention stand up for themselves or anyone else. it's painful to me, these girls growing up too, too fast and these chihuahuas.

sometimes i cringe that i have great danes. grae, sometimes, is more pitbull. but that is another story.

which took place the other night at swimming. the team was stretching out by the side of the pool, and one of the girls asked my two why their fins were shorter than everyone else's. before they could answer that they're training fins and much more difficult to use than the longer ones, another little girl piped up and answered for them.

because their parents can't afford the real fins.

as soon as grae told me...well...to make a long story short, i fuh-reaked. so mad i can't even explain it. and then i made it quite clear to her gross and useless father that his child was completely inappropriate and crude. he replied with those fated words - that doesn't sound like my daughter - but that he'd talk to her.

i may have replied be sure you do before i give gracie permission to respond.

and then i flamed uncle sugar. there were a lot of effs involved in that text. and that charmer of mine replied why would you ever care about people like that? that's so unlike you. and if grae can't handle this, she needs to turn in her man card.




i love that guy.

i've come to the realization that i'm a pretty chill person. until it comes to my girlies three. i am beyond disinterested in making people who blend in. who follow. who listen to how others define them and change their definition accordingly. who don't enjoy life, but are scared to death of it. who can't enjoy like heck the person sitting next to them, no matter where in the world they may be sitting. and it seems that i will fight like a dog to make sure that all doesn't happen.

this is probably a problem, but asking me to change is like...asking lill to keep quiet in science. which, i hate to tell you, is probably not going to happen.

images i loved on b for bonnie. and there. i feel better now. thanks for listening.