In response to my telling him, "If it doesn't fit your pocket, you can't take it with you," Zee has become quite the pocket stuffer.
While Ace helped her Grammy and PaPa fix the pasture gate, Zee climbed into his PaPa's truck and pretended to drive.
Looking back, I'm fairly certain there was a measured amount of self-sabotage in my failed relationships. Maybe this is true of the passion history of each of us. Sometimes this sabotage was due to my inability to be honest or recognize when the relationship needed to end, or with blinders firmly affixed, I would plow through the reality of my life and exist in some parallel space. And then other times I let my own insecurities pollute what could have been crystal clear. This poem reflects one of many moments when I was forced to own my sabotage and hope too-late it could be mended.
Ace and Zee have fallen back in love with spring. We were teased with a bit of spring last week, and just as Ace and Zee were eager to help rake and jump in the fall leaves, they also couldn't wait to be spring garden helpers. After I hauled a heavy load of unwanted rocks from out of a new garden area, Ace would enthusiastically push the wheelbarrow back to the yard.
Sometimes it is good to let a poem speak for itself. This is probably true more often than I let happen. Enjoy brought to color (for JK).
When you've had two kids, peeing yourself unexpectedly is part of your joyful new life, or so I'd heard from a few mama friends. I'd even known a mama friend on my soccer team to bring a fresh set of underwear and shorts for the second half of games. She said it happened every time she ran, escaping pee. Yikes! Really?
There was once a sailboat being built in the basement of my North Portland, St. John's neighborhood, house. I imagined on many occasions having to fill the basement with water in order to ever see it set sail. I'm not sure if it was completed, but it left my basement, and I'm sure I cried enough at the time to at least help it float a little.