Wednesday, May 29, 2013

You can't rain on our (Memorial Day) parade

So much for a sunny, bright, fire-up-the-grill, play at the park, Memorial Day Weekend.  We have had almost a week of rain, and our one hundred day forecast is for rain and more rain.  And like the weather outside, my mood on Saturday was pretty dark and glum.  I couldn’t feign excitement about spending another weekend trapped inside—especially after The winter that almost never ended.  I was racking my brain for things we could do inside, but short of baking cookies and painting rocks and building forts (none of which sounded tempting), I was stumped.

Mase came home from work and picked up on my mood almost immediately.  While C was having “Charlie Time”, Mason suggested we head somewhere for the weekend—get a hotel room and make a night out of it.  I think I had the suitcase packed before he finished stating his proposal. 

We ended up heading down to Iowa City—no plans in mind, just getting out of Dodge for the night.  Our only requirement in finding a hotel was that it have a pool—and we were in for an extra treat because the hotel we chose had a full-sized waterslide as well.  And while we were talking up the waterslide, C let us know the hotel was perfect because ….a train track was right next to our room.  How awesome.

We settled into our room, watched a little TV, and then drove across the street to Chili’s for supper.  After filling our bellies with chips and salsa and chocolate milk, we hit the pool.  While C was a little hesitant of the slide at first, it was only a matter of minutes before he was begging to go down multiple times.  So that’s what we did. 


On Sunday morning, C was up and begging to get back in the pool by 6:00 am.  Sadly (thank God), the pool didn't open until 8:00.  And while he wasn't exactly thrilled to do it, Charlie reluctantly agreed to do some reading and coloring until at least 6:30.  Thanks buddy.

After eating breakfast, we trekked down to the pool again for more trips down the slide.  The only thing that could have made the morning better would have been if a large piece of steel magically ran across that train track…which is exactly what happened.  C’s excitement as he stood there, shivering in his little swim trunks, pointing and watching the train outside was beyond cute.  He’d yell out, “Hopper Car!”  “Box Car!” and fidget with his goggles, hoping to get a better view. He was a bit disappointed when we dragged him out of the pool, but we softened the blow by promising him a trip to the Iowa Children’s Museum. As always, the museum and mall festivities were fantastic.  (And ordering off the children’s menu at Bennigan’s results in a free carosoul ride!)

Serving up a little deep dish for Daddy
Testing out his super huge really fast rocket



C could have stayed at the mall all day (the perfect place to kill tons of time) but we were ready to head home.  A few tears and one Oreo cookie bribe later, and we were piled back into the car, homeward bound.  We hadn’t even reached the interstate when we glanced back and saw this:

Mission accomplished:  Soggy, yet fun-filled family weekend.   

Pedal On, Little One

Last Thursday, Mason headed to Dike for his weekly golf round.  C and I made a date to head up to the Farmer's Market, drop books off at the library, hit a park, and head home to eat supper on our deck.  As we were leaving, I suggested taking the wagon but C was adament about riding his new bike.  It's a trike, actually.  No, strike that.  It's a trike on 'roids, actually.  The thing is huge.  A hand-me-down from M's brother, it's like a 50 pound monster of a bike.

So of course, C is obsessed with it.  And while I'm fine with him toodling around the driveway on it, I wasn't ready to carry back a bike that I couldn't even lift without breaking  a sweat.  I made the decision that he could ride the bike, but if he gets tired, I am not carrying it.  I'll leave it behind before I try to carry it.  So he agreed.

We reached the top of our hill before I heard the first, "I'm firsty! Dis is hard!".  We made it to the Farmer's Market (about four blocks away) before I heard, "I'm tired!".  Then, we dropped the books off at the library, listened to some live music under the band-stand, and pedaled over to the park (another three blocks away).  We played at the park and "rested" his legs.  It was a gorgeous night and I made a point of just hanging out with C, playing 'driving car', testing out every piece of equipment, and tasting his imaginary ice cream cones made out of wood chips.  I tried to commit these memories to my brain, opting to leave my phone tucked away in my bag.

Because it was such a perfect evening, I was hesitant to hurry home and cook supper.  Instead, I called Pizza Hut (yes, totally fell off the gluten free wagon) and ordered dine in, just so we could stay at the park longer.  When C hopped on his bike, he immediately said, "My legs are rested.  I feel better."  But within a block, he was near tears, whining, "I'm firsty! I'm soooo firsty!"  Pizza Hut was a good five blocks away from the park and I had zero water on me-- our only option was to pedal on.

He was being such a good little soldier, but it wasn't long before he cried out, "I can't do it Mommy!" For a moment, I wanted to scoop him up and carry him piggy-back while I somehow heaved the trike up on my shoulder.  But it is my humble opinion that this is what's wrong with kids today-- constantly being rescued by their parents, never having to finish the job, rarely being forced to carry on.  So rather than scooping him up, I said to him, "Honey, you can stop riding the trike.  But I cannot carry it or push it for you.  So, you'll either have get off and push it, or get off and leave it here.  And if you leave it here, someone might come and take it and keep it for their own."

He looked up at me and pouted a little and then continued pedaling.  And then, with sheer determination on his face, he pedaled harder than he had all night.  But suddenly, as he was racing forward he looked up at me with tears in his eyes and said, "Mama, when you're riding your bike super far, does your bottom feel like it's all on fire?"

Without dying in fits of laughter right then and there, I managed to say that yes, indeed, my bottom feels like it's on fire when I ride my bike super far.  Feel the burn and pedal on, little guy, pedal on.

Sunday, May 26, 2013

This is real life

I love/hate reading the crazy popular mommy blogs with thousands of followers and adorable pictures of their families.  The blog authors whine about daily atrocities just like me and then tie everything up with a nice little bow at the end of their posts-- a little disclaimer that they are cheery and bright eyed and actually loving mommy-hood.  And they post photographer quality photos taken with their iphone of babies sleeping on the beach (where do these people find babies who sleep anywhere?), mamas looking gorgeous under wide brimmed hats, and picture perfect poses with their darlings.  

Of course, since I don't live near a beach, capturing daily life beach shots are hard to come by in Spahnville.  But every once in awhile, we have a Saturday morning that just rocks.  It's fun and easy going and laid back and busy and productive all at the same time.  It includes pancakes and smiles and laughter and dancing and chasing around the kitchen island.  It does not include cute swimming suits peeking out behind wide brimmed hats.  It does not include hair products or eye liner or fresh clothes before noon.  And this, my friends, is real life.

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Will I Remember?

Dear Charlie,

You are getting so big so fast, growing up and changing from a toddler to a little boy right before my very eyes.  You're so much more capable than you were last year, so much braver, so much more coordinated.  But you're still you; still a little reserved.  Still a little shy.  Still a little hesitant about letting go.

I don't think it's any secret that I'm loving this stage of parenting.  It is by far my most favorite.  I love the curiosity, the adventure, and the independence that is happening; it's what I imagined when I dreamed of being a mother.  I love the outings we take, the walks around the block, the jumping in puddles, the nature trail hikes.  I love the way I can rake the yard and you can safely play in the driveway with your toys or sidewalk chalk.  I love how  your brain is becoming so uniquely you.  You're turning into your own person, asking your own questions, forming your own conclusions, stating your own opinions, which just continue to amaze me.

I swear to myself that I'm going to remember these days, but I know I'll forget the details.

Will I remember how you point out every detail in the books we read?  That they forgot to put the backpack on that page, or that they hid a kitty up in the tree.  (You are an illustrator's dream)

Will I remember how you yell at Daddy, our wasp-smacking-hero, "Smack him Daddy! C'mon, get him get him!"

Will I remember how you encourage me when I'm struggling to bike up our hill with you and the bike trailer (about 60+ pounds) in tow?  "C'mon Mommy!  You can do it!  Use your big muscles Mommy!  Up the HILL!"

Will I remember how you give me three kisses-- right on the lips-- alternating with three hugs, every morning and then run to the window at Nicole's house, waving madly at me and blowing me kisses as I back out the driveway?

Will I remember how you shout to Daddy, "If you see Binga out there, can you tell him it's time to come inside? Now!"  Or as Daddy leaves for work, "If you see Binga at your work, can you bring him back here?  Right away!?"  

Will I remember that you like to hide Puppy under the table "in jail"?

Will I remember the morning you pranced all around our house singing, "Down by the stashe! Down by the stashe!" (short for station)

Will I remember the way you play "story lady" and read books to your stuffed animals?

Will I remember how you hate waking up in the morning and always put your head under your pillow, and stay that way until we physically pull you out?

Will I remember the way you always want to make "silly face" for photos, rather than just smiling your adorable smile?

Will I remember how much you hate the light of morning, always insisting that 'It too bright!".  How sometimes, you even eat breakfast with your sunnies on, just because of your vampire-sensitive eyes?But the other day you looked at me as I flipped on the lights and said, "It okay Mommy.  My eyes da-justed." 

Will I remember the way Daddy gave you a pep talk before your race at the Hershey Track Meet?  How he bent down and told you, You have your Diego shoes on.  And they're super fast.  So when the man says "GO!" you just run as fast as you can in your fast shoes, all the way down to the string. And then, when you won the race, you became known to us as the fastest three year old in Grundy Center?

These little tiny moments, the ones that make me laugh out loud, the ones that tug on my heart like Maddy pulled on her leash, are my real live-in-the-moment life right now.  And though I sometimes crave a moment alone, or a quiet Saturday morning, I have a feeling when that time comes, I'll crave these tiny moments and wish they weren't just a memory.

I have yet to meet a person who tells me that kids grow up too slowly.  And from what I've experienced, I completely agree.  But thank you, Charlie, for growing into such an amazing little boy.  Each new milestone and stage has by far exceeded the previous, which lessons the sting of growing up just a bit.  I love the baby you were, the little boy you became, and the big boy you are turning into.  I couldn't be more happy and exited to be a mama than now.


Monday, May 20, 2013


As you may know, Mason just returned from his annual golf trip in Galena.  He and several other men spend four days golfing, eating, playing cards, and drinking adult beverages from the comforts of the Galena territitories resort.  It has become something he really looks forward to, and honestly, I look forward to my alone time with Charlie too.

Usually, C and I head over to Sister's for the weekend, but since she & her family are in the middle of a pretty major life transition, (new job, moving out/moving in) we decided to just hang out here and relax.  But how is it that every time I plan on just relaxing, I find myself scheduling ourselves to the max?

Thursday was the closest we came to relaxing-- we enjoyed the beautiful evening by walking over to the library and filling the wagon with books.  We came home, ate hot dogs and brats outside, and played until it was way-past-time for a bath.

Getting out of the house on Friday morning was a little tricky without Daddy serving as Household Case Manager, but we survived.  That afternoon, we headed down to Des Moines to spend the afternoon and evening with some friends.  Sister's family ended up stopping by and we played outside until the sun was practically setting.

Vincent's new car was the hit of the night.

Charlie finally got the hang of driving it and took his cousin for a spin. Looks to me like she's praying for dear life.  Not sure I blame her.  

The next morning, we woke up and headed to the Blank Park Zoo, a little gem tucked into the south side of Des Moines.  C was thrilled to discover that they had a tiger, a rhino, a train, and that the camel ride was open.  When it came time to ride the camel, he promised me that he could ride alone, even walking up to the ticket booth and purchasing "one ticket pweese."  We only had to wait a minute for his turn, but when it was time to climb aboard, he made it clear that he would not be taking one step closer unless I was going with him.  So lucky me, I got to sit on the hump.  C is still talking about this-- I'm practically famous in his eyes because I sat so way up high on that big humpy. 

FINALLY it's train time!

After the eventful camel ride, we fed the parakeets, rode the train, ate hamburgers, and headed for home.  As we were leaving the zoo, C looked up at me so sweetly and said, "But I don't want to leave the zoo, Mommy.  I'm not ready to go home."  I hated to disappoint him, but I had a feeling that he was running low on energy and wouldn't make it through much more of the zoo.  We packed up our things, and C was asleep before we pulled out of the parking lot.

The two of us had a great afternoon/ evening at home that night, although I was a bit ambitious in the kitchen-- making fruit leather, gluten-free mozzarella sticks, and homemade Paleo pizza.  But after the kitchen was finally cleaned up, we attempted another movie night.  We started with Ratatouie, but five minutes into the movie C told me that "Dis little rat is boring.  I want Lightning McQueen." So we switched to CARS and hoped it would be more successful.  Everything looked good, with the sleeping bags and M&M's, and pillows piled high around us, but all C wanted to do was roll around in his sleeping bag, climb on me and jump off me onto the floor.  I sort of imagined movie night a little more relaxing than that. But eventually, bedtime came for both of us and neither one of us made a peep until morning.

M ended up coming home a bit earlier than expected due to a rainy forecast, which gave me a moment to sneak in a quick Target trip and pedicure-- the perfect remedy for such a relaxing weekend.

Sunday, May 19, 2013

Guy Time

This post was written last summer, but never published.  

Mason just returned from his annual spring golf trip tonight and I thought it was pretty fitting. 

What a cutie! 
While M & I  *try* to do our fair share of "girl time" and "guy time", the truth is probably that I'm a little better at it than he is.  Yes, he golfs once a week during the summer, but other than that, he's kind of a homebody.  (And I secretly like it.)  I also am a homebody (and I like that too), but it feels like I get some girl time because I get to see some of my good friends at work during the school year, I see some of my non-work friends during the summer (especially the teacher friends who also have summers off), I try to scrapbook (I use that term very loosely) once a month, and this summer, I'm bound and determined to golf more.

Although M feels like he should spend his "off work" time with C & me, I've tried to encourage him to  take a guys weekend with his friends.  Summer is a stressful time for Mase, with the craziness of work, but finally, he and his BFF (do guys have bffs?) pinned down a date on the calendar and are headed up to the Northwoods for a few days of non-stop fishing.

The two of them will only be gone for a couple days, and C & I have TONS of possibilities to do here while they are gone.  I have some things I'd like to work on around the house and I've been kind of looking forward to hogging the remote in the evenings. (Not to mention choosing my kindle over laundry, dishes, and the usual chores.)

But now, as I type this post, it's just too quiet here.  No annoying man shows about fishing for crabs, driving on iceburgs, or chopping down trees, no one to toast my nightcap, and nobody to grab my computer charger for me. C's in bed, Maddy is lying on the floor, and it just feels like something someone is missing.

That saying of "Absence makes the heart grow fonder" is running through my head right now because it's just so true.  We get so used to the people in our lives--even take them for granted at times--though we tell ourselves every day to appreciate and be thankful for them. But daily life just marches on and the doldrums of routine sometimes dull our appreciation of those who mean the most to us.  But give us a little time away from those loved ones and we instantly remember why we are so drawn to them.  Their annoyances become humorous and their ideosyncrenicies become endearing.  And since we know that (Universe willing) this little separation is only for a minute, it allows us to step back, rekindle, and be excited to see that person again.  (We might even secretly miss the annoying man shows they watch at night-- and maybe, just maybe, sneak a little peak-- although we would never admit it.)

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

More Charlie-isms

I have got to do a better job of writing these things down.  I think I'll remember them forever, and then I can't remember them for five minutes.  (Please tell me I'm not alone) Here are a few from the more recent past:

Last winter, we read the book, "The Little Engine That Could".  It's perfect for Charlie right now because of his obsession with trains.  That, and the fact that he has a mild temper that easily escalates into a full-blown tantrum over the most stupid things. Anyway, the other night, he's tugging at his socks-- trying without success to get them off.  (Even though he could do this task at 6 months, it's suddenly super frustrating for him now-- go figure.)

C:  Uggggggh!!  I HATE these socks!  UUUGGGGGGH!
C:  I think I can I think I can I think I can.  I am a train going up the big mountain!  But I CAN'T get these socks off!!!  UGGGGH!!!

Choosing a game to play before bedtime:
C:  Let's play my new game.
Me:  Which game?
C: Guns and Ladders
(take a moment to let that one sink in... I know it took me a second to figure it out)

While driving past the lake in Dike, Charlie pipes up from the back seat:

Me:  Mmmm-Hmmmm.
C:  Are there alligators in the lake?
Me:  No, alligators don't usually live in lakes.
C:  But sometimes they do.
Me:  Maybe.  But I think they live in swamps.
C:  No, they don't live in swamps.  I tink dey live in maybe Iowa.
Me:  Well, Iowa gets pretty cold and I don't think alligators like the cold.  I think they live places like Florida.  Maybe Alabama or something.
C:  Or Iowa.  Or Some-tin.........  Binga has an alligator.  At his house.  In Iowa.
Me:  Really?
C:  Oooh Yeah.  He has 2 pink alligators.
Me:  Pink ones?
C:  Mmm-hmmm.  And free red ones.  That's dis many.  (holding up 3 fingers)
Me:  Wow, I didn't know alligators came in colors.  Or lived in Iowa.
C:  And he has five white ones.  But only one orange one.  Orange just like Binga's hair.

At Kindermusik, the teacher was getting out the hoppity balls.  Usually all the kids are thrilled to use these.  I noticed C didn't have one, once they were all passed out.
Teacher: He told me he didn't want a hoppity ball.
C:  I don't need a hoppity ball.  I can hop just fine on my feet. (proceeds to jump all around the room) See?  I'm just like a kangaroo! I don't need a hoppity ball.

As I walked in to pick C up from daycare, the kids were just putting on shoes and getting ready to head out the door.  He came around the corner, saw me and said,

C:  Oh Mommy.  (big overdramatic frown)  We're just gettin' ready to go outside and play.  I can't come home with you.  Saw-wee.  (cocks his head, raises his eyebrows, and shrugs his shoulders with his hands up)  Bye bye.

Settling down for rest:
C:  Mommy, can you tell me a story?
Me:  Mmm-hmmm.  Let's see...
C:  About when you were a little goyl?
Me:  Okay.   When I was a little girl, I went to a school called Fairview Elementary. 
C:  Oooh!  Did it have fairies there?
Me:  Well, no.  But that would have made sense.
C:  Did it have godmothers?
Me:  Gosh, I don't think so but that would have been super cool.
C:  I wish I can go to a school with godmothers.  When I get big and huge.

I managed to drop a bottle of nail polish from the cabinet the other morning as we were knee-deep in the hustle-bustle of the morning routine.  The bottle shattered, spilling thick dark nail polish everywhere.  It immediately soaked into the tile and the sink, splattered the walls, the shower, the rugs, and me.  As I was dripping the lovely shade of"Lincoln Park After Dark", I yelled an explicative and M came running to the rescue with C trailing behind.  Charlie looked at me and said, 

"Oh Mommy, you should not do that ever again."
"I know honey, but it was an accident.  And there is sharp glass on the floor so I need you to go in your room for a little bit and have some Charlie time."
"Okay.  And you should never do that again.  But it's okay.  Because I still love you."

Monday, May 13, 2013

Writing Prompt #10: A Place You've Traveled

Once upon a time, there was a young woman who lived in a very small town.  She was new to the town, having just moved there to begin her first "real" job.  The majority of her friends had accepted career opportunities miles away, which left her momentarily planted alone in that tiny town, but plenty busy with the planning and preparation involved with a new job.  At the time, she happened to be dating one of her good friends, which was not at all serious, but was nice company and good comic relief.  The relationship also provided her with a group of friends during especially lonely or mundane moments.  But mostly, it was a friendship of the on-again/off-again variety, and had become more off-again in recent months.  In fact, she was just waiting for the perfect opportunity to make this a more permanent "off-again" than the previous attempts.

That perfect opportunity arrived one March day, in the form of a handsome next door neighbor.  He was not much older than her, and the two struck up a quick and easy friendship.  Before long, they were sharing Coors Lights, long walks, and late night conversations.  They talked late into the night, exchanged funny stories, their hopes, and their dreams.  (Their dreams did not include living in the tiny town for much longer.) Eventually, it was clear to everyone that they were "an item".

One day, the handsome neighbor told the young woman that he needed to discuss something with her.  He sounded a bit apprehensive and a knot formed in her stomach.  Perhaps this relationship really was too good to be true.  She had probably gotten carried away with her feelings, and she worried that he now felt differently.  But she agreed to have him come over to discuss whatever was on his mind.

The next evening, he knocked on her door shortly after returning home from work.  She led him into her living room, noticing the envelopes he held in his left hand.  She wondered if he had been in such a rush to get this over with that he forgot to drop off his mail.  He sat down on the edge of the hand-me-down couch and his eyes drifted around the room.  She held her breath-- waiting for the floor to fall out from under her.  She silently cursed herself for falling so hard and so fast for this guy, someone so experienced, someone so out of her league.  Eventually, he took a deep breath and began.

"So....." he spoke slowly, as if searching for the right words, "a friend of mine runs a travel agency with his mom."

The woman stared back at him, brow furrowed and head cocked to the side.  This was an unusual way to begin the breakup conversation.  But still, she listened.

"Anyway, supposedly the hottest new travel destination is the Dominican Republic.  They're building resorts and it's supposed to be the place to go." He paused, again waiting for some sign to go on with his speech, but the woman just continued to stare blankly back at him.

"Well, back at Christmas, my brother and I bought tickets for a week long trip in Punta Cana.  It's at an all-inclusive resort called the Iberostar Bavaro. At the time, I thought S would be going with me... but now that we're not together....." his voice trailed off.  He paused for a moment before begining again.

"Well, the trip's paid for and if I don't go, I'm just out the money I spent on it.  And I really don't want to be the third wheel with my brother and sister-in-law," he said.  He glanced at the woman, and then around the room some more.  He fiddled with the edge of the mail, which the woman now realized was a travel brochure for The Iberostar Bavaro.

"So I was just thinking," he continued, "I mean, if you're interested....." and he handed her the brochures.

She was momentarily blinded by the shiny bright brochures and her mind raced with the reality of what was happening.  Wait.... he wasn't calling things off... he was kind of turning things up a notch-- if that was even possible.  This person, who had already somehow swept her off her feet in a matter of weeks was now asking her to spend a week in paradise with him?  Things like this did not happen to people like her. But for once, it was happening, she was holding the brochures to prove it.

That night, she sank into her down comforter and gazed at her ceiling fan dancing around in a perfect circle.  She imagined twinkling stars shining above a dark, mysterious ocean.  She felt sugary white sand between her toes and tasted fresh coconut on her lips.  Her eyes closed and she fell asleep listening to the sound of the waves crashing on the beaches of the Dominican Republic.

She dreamed of pristine courtyards

and beaches that went on for miles.
She imagined fancy dinners

learning how to open lobster

and tropical drinks, poured into hollowed out pineapple.

She dreamed of Caribbean party boats and big smiles and underwater adventures.

She dreamed of being crowned, "Miss Iberostar" and the local announcer would clap and cheer and pronounce it, "Meeez I-beer-oh-stah!"

She saw herself wrapping her arms around this new love, silently admitting that he might be too good to be true.  Even so, she let herself imagine sailing with him, his eyes as bright and clear as the the ocean behind him.

And when she came to the part where they boarded the plane back to Chicago, she squinted her eyes closed, wishing/hoping/praying that the whole thing had not just been a dream.

Sunday, May 12, 2013

Riding the Wave of Motherhood

Mason call them waves, these sudden urges of love/emotion/crazy adoration that sweep over me at random times.  These feelings force me to put down the laundry, abandon the half-cooked meal, get off the couch during House Hunters (that's true love) and spontaneously hug and kiss and squeeze my husband.... before returning to the task at hand.  Or sometimes, in the middle of shopping at Target, I'll scoop Charlie up and say, "Your mommy LOVES you!" (and lately, he'll say, "Your Kid LOVES YOU!").  It seems I've passed along the waves to my son, as tonight during dinner, he suddenly hopped off his chair, ran over to me, and said, "I wanna give you a great big huge huggy!" And he hugged me and squeezed me and then just as quickly, returned to his meal.

And though these waves usually only last for a moment, today felt like one continuous cresting wave.

The morning began with Charlie's continued tradition of waking me up at 6:00 am. (He is so thoughtful.)  He wanted to cuddle with me right away, but ordered me to brush my teeth first.  "Mommy, your breff is stinky!  It's too stinky for me!  My breff is not stinky.  Go brush your teef now!" (He is so tactful.)  We took care of our oral hygiene, read books, drank coffee, and then met the family at Hy-Vee for brunch (we were in Spencer for the weekend, celebrating my grandmother's 90th birthday).  We played at the park, ate lunch, headed home, played outside, flew a kite, and took some pictures before beginning the wind down routine. 

Before bed, we read books about bugs and in between the thousands of questions he asked about the bug facts, he cuddled into me, nuzzled my nose, kissed my cheek, touched my hair, and gave me  little "love-head-butts".  The bedtime routine is almost a spiritual experience for me.  It is (usually) so peaceful, so tender, so filled with love and 'after bath smell'... that it's almost hard to tiptoe out of his room each night.  And tonight, I just lingered a bit longer...savoring this Mother's Day, prolonging it just a bit more, with a sweet little boy who has made my heart overflow with countless love-waves.

Happy Mother's Day to all my mama friends & family.  Here's an awesome post from my famous friend-- the one who doesn't know I exist but would want to be my bff if our paths crossed long enough to drink tea together.