abs, 2014, mama


I'm going to flay all the skin off your body with a spoon.

Ok, extreme.

She and I will stand over the cutlery drawer and reminisce about our good silver finds. Our stainless finds. We'll hand the small spoons back and forth.

I think
She might
Find herself
On the ten list
The fridge list

Everyone of you would make space for her
As easily as I'd call out

abs, 2014, mama


Long time.

Evie is 16 months next week. She runs. She feeds the cat and the dog, carefully carrying the scoop of kibble to each bowl and emptying it, with precision. She collects her dirty clothing after bath time and carries it to the hamper and pushes it up and in. She lets me brush her teeth while I sing her the ABCs in the bath tub. She rolls out dough, sitting in her high chair, with her own little rolling pin, when I am making biscuits. She eats her broccoli and drinks green smoothies and feeds me her leftovers, straight from her mouth. She says HOO HOO when I ask her what an owl says. She plays peek-a-boo with me while she nurses, because she still nurses. She kisses me on the lips. She pats my back while I am singing to her before I set her down to sleep at night.

This last year had been very hard.

But as I was running home from the gym this morning, under clear skies and past yards shot up with purple crocuses, I thought about the ecstasy that having her in my life has carved into my heart. It is like no other feeling I have ever known. It is as close to understanding destiny as I have ever come. I feel like one of the stars in heaven now-- bright, purposeful, alive. This is the heart of my life, despite what I thought I knew up until her birth. This is life.
domela shoot

Nine and a half months.

Evangeline has lived on the outside longer than she lived inside of me now. She crawls. She waves hi and bye. She started saying "ooooh" yesterday, as in "oooh ahhh" when she likes something. She gives high-fives. She doesn't talk yet... she's said "Mama" twice and I swear I heard it, but it's been a while. She pulls up to standing and practices balancing by herself. She has six teeth. Two more on the top are about to break through. She's started taking hour and a half naps in the afternoon, though mostly when she's in the jogging stroller, so now I'm down to 14.8% bodyfat, which is the leanest I've been in 8 years. Since I was a stripper.

We're grilling pizzas tonight.
I'm exhausted.

I went out to drink by myself for the first time in almost two years last night. It was great.
abs, 2014, mama


Nothing seems to slake my hunger today.
Which is true, but I also wanted to use slake in a sentence.
abs, 2014, mama


I sat quietly after finishing that post, and then started to have a panic attack. Jesus. I am doing my best job breathing for the next 20 minutes while my prescription is filled. Really. Best work.
abs, 2014, mama

Welcome To Stop-Motion Living

I don't know what this part is called. I have a tummy-ache and no energy and I'm not going to the gym. And apparently I'm not on the couch watching a movie, either.

I am in the dumb hard center of love and loneliness. Jesse is back in Canada, and after a week of silence and space, we started talking this weekend. The necklace he gave me is in a shell in my treasure box, coiled and glittering, and not on my neck. I cannot even look at it. Since the breakup, over a week ago now, I have not quite been comfortable with anything; I felt this strange stasis built in lack of communication and emptiness. And then when we talked the other night, and he said it-- that the relationship was over-- I suddenly felt okay. I needed to hear the words from him, I needed to know that he knew it, too.

Maybe this sounds silly, but there's been such trouble actual hearing each other. And to hear the fact of it, laid out, made me catch my breath and land on the earth. That's it. We're broken up. It gave me permission to be sad, but I'd already been sad. And in fact, it took that sadness away, because most of my unhappiness had come from trying to save something that neither of us were doing a good job of tending. Now all of the pressure is off, and our talking has been good.

And I miss him. A lot.

I get that the relationship as we had it is over, and that's okay. Because I think that it didn't fit. And now, if we are lucky, we can start getting to know each other, and start listening to each other, and find someway to move forward.

Which I hope.

Because I am telling him stories in my head. I am recounting to him the details of my day. I am watching for him on facebook and skype, and then making myself go do something else, as to not climb all over him and get the goo of my loneliness all over the interesting and new shell of our Us-ness.