a.rose

I was playing with Heather today, watching her hands move as she talked and wiggled.  They are so expressive, those not-quite-baby-anymore hands.  I felt an intense, passionate love for that little tiny body, the way it moves and grows, the way it is mine because I made it. I made those fingers, I made those eyes, I made that smile with all those shining teeth.  I don't understand how my body did it, but in nine months there was a new person in the world, a brand new person that no one had seen before.  But she was here and she was mine, whether I understood how it happened or not. I thought that there could be a hundred scientists with a million petri dishes and all their strands of DNA and stem cells and they could make amazing things happen, maybe even make a human grow in a lab, and maybe they could do it, but even then I don't think they would actually understand it. As this new body moves inside me, and I begin to feel the wiggling, tentative movement of...

Some of my friends in my book club have been asking for a list of my favorite books, and I kept putting it off because that's... that's like asking me to choose between bacon or chocolate, mashed potatoes and gravy or pizza.  I mean, it's like they each have their time and place, you know?! But then tonight I sat down and took a close look inside myself, and just went after it.  So, this list is obviously subject to some change in the future, as I continue reading and exploring new works.  I also mostly avoided obvious classics*, in part because I often just don't like classics, and if it is a good classic that I do like, then you probably already know about it too.  If you want a list of classics I like, I'd be happy to give it to you. Or, easier, a list of classics to avoid, from my own so humble personal opinion. If you would like to have a discussion with me about any of these books and why I love them, or any books at all really, let me know. I would love ...

Because of some insurance blah blah blah, I spent the day looking through piles and piles of papers, twice.  As I was going through I kept finding random little drawings that Hallie made for me that at the time I tucked away with all the bills and then they got lumped together.  And as I was searching for this really important piece of paper (that I never found) I was putting some papers in a "throw away" pile, and some in a "to file" pile.  And Hallie's pictures kept ending up in the "throw away" pile, because I get sort of claustrophobic when there is too much "stuff", and I kept thinking, is she really going to care someday about the first picture she drew of a helicopter?  Doubtful... But then you know, my heart sort of started hurting at the thought of never seeing these random little bits again.  I guess it has been forcefully shoved down my throat that she is not tiny anymore, and that the cute little things she does will fade away ...

I am trusting you with my little girl.

Once upon a time,  there was a woman  and the woman was me.   She lived her life,  and when she was pregnant  with her first baby she, who is me,  looked like this:   And I waited for my baby to come,  nine months I waited,  and then quite suddenly it seemed  (after 26 hours of labor)  she was here. And then when I wasn't looking,  she began to grow. And then one day,  I'm not even sure how it happened,  but when I looked at her  she was no longer my little baby.   She was all grown up into a little girl. The next thing I knew,  she was doing big girl things,  like riding on roller coasters, and losing teeth. And that's a look at the past five years with Hallie. If that weren't enough photos for you, I've put together the following. These ar...

Tonight was Hallie's elementary school open house.  We were there at 6:15 on the dot, the eager first time parents, with our eyes open as wide as the children.  We stood huddled in one corner, lost and confused. I knew we had to go to room 104-Ms. Reynolds, but I had no idea where that was.  I watched the sea of parents and children sail by, heading to their various destinations and could feel all of the chaos pulling Hallie away from me. I have four days left. We found her room and discovered one by one her desk, her cubby, her bin, the reading corner, the playing corner, and the trash can.  I found myself getting emotional and teary, and I smiled because at that time it was not because Hallie would be spending all day there, but rather because I would not be.  I showed Hallie the rocking chair by the big circle carpet where her teacher would sit and read her stories and talk to her about the weather and letters and numbers and words, and I wanted to be th...