Milk Dreams

Lost in the jungle

Deep

Pouring from the sky

Rain

Alone in the sea

Green and blue

Distracted in every foreign city I’ve never been to

Listen

I am here milk flowing

Hands grabbing

There

Where my mind goes

Free

Returning to duty

Love

Teaching me concentration

Time

A tunnel of black

Unsure of distance

Continue

Soon to be looking back

Stay

Break

Build

Crumble

Repair

Try harder

Build again

Again

Again

Again

Sand

Warms my cold dutiful

Feet

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All grown up

Shedding a few tears realizing I’m more grown up then I realized I was. And more alone then ever without one blasting minute to myself. I’m sure this has been written before. Where is that woman? My mother 30 years ago? She hasn’t forgotten, how could you? She has moved on, kind of. Want to have a glass of scotch with that woman, any woman at this point. We are all so hard core and bad ass and no one will ever really know it but us. Make sense? No fucking one, but us.

Remembering when I was 23 acting like I was 30 now just wanting to act 23 but be 30. Nope.

Drop mic.

My life is a Sundance film

Yours probably is too. You do theses things, however normal they seem to you, and while you do them, you narrate the scene like you are watching it from a completely different life.

You don’t have to not love the life you have to dream of new ones. There are no rules here.

As I drive through dense fog of Northwest winter to the “farm school” where my sweet, always perfect 4 year old goes for 4 hours most days (do teachers and kids have to be there too? HAH!), I find myself slamming on my breaks for the same old yellow light because I was day dreaming about the small winding streets of Italy or many places I have yet to visit where I can’t understand a damn fucking thing and I don’t have to worry about the weight of life in chores when I go home. When I go to bed at night and my feet ache from wandering aimlessly and thinking “I should hand wash this shirt so it looks better by tomorrow” instead of hurting from the 3000 wood stairs I have st home where I run up and down doing who the fuck knows all day. First world problems. It’s a hashtag I know.

Back to Sundance. I narrate. And sometimes I am totally hilarious. But I am worried I’m the kind of hilarious where you try and break the silence at the grocery store by saying something to connect and the checker looks at you(Beep. Silence. Beep. Silence) and you look at them like “ok then” and maybe say something in a British accent as you walk out of the store with your random collection of items.

The person watching this whole exchange is blissfully spacing out in the comfort of wherever they are doing life however they do it.

*not sure what I was trying to write here, but I was waiting for my tea water to boil and thought I would put it down into words that don’t much make sense. And I thought all my fans would possibly get a kick out of it. You know who you are. Too tired to drink the tea I made.

Until next Sundance moment..:

Boobs

Me, a 3 year old, a 7 month old, and a 13 year old dog. Sometimes (now) I’m fully dressed (in pajamas) at 11:15am, with both my boobs out, my stomach several inches in front of me(still skinnier then most people in general), walking around cry nursing the baby through a bad teething moment. This is real life. I have company now, so naturally I thankfully just had sparkling rosé (not real life but it sure feels good at the moment).

#growingteeth #breastfeeding #fml

Trying to live in the moment

Adult Birthdays

Adult birthdays are just days. Days that remind you that you once where a child and you knew nothing of the weight of the world and just knew of the solar system. Days where you wondered “what’s for dinner?”, then you just ate. Days where cake had no calories and you didn’t know how much wine was too much for a day after head throb.

Birthdays are just days we feel all the feels for all the reasons while at the same time burying all the feels until the day is over and you can feel “I made it”.

Happy adult birthday.

Enjoy that cake.

Morbid

It’s 9:30 PM on a Sunday.

My kids are in bed and I am standing at the far window across the room looking around wondering if I should run around and clean up the house just in case.

Should I grab some trash bags and throw out all the miscellaneous things that we tend to think we need in life?

If I died tonight (hopefully someone would know to check in on me and get the kids), they would walk in and they would see my dog probably frantic by the door but the locked from the rest of of the house by a window screen.

The kitchen would have pasta sauce on it- amazingly I made three meals today. The couch cushions are in disarray, some on the floor from the toddler sporadically throwing them off, the kids table has crumbs all over it just because ‘why wipe it off if I can do it in the morning after breakfast?’

Walk up the stairs and there’s laundry literally on the stairs, I don’t really know if it’s clean or dirty so I just left it there and I will decide tomorrow. The kids room has clean laundry piled high on the bed.

There’s an old toilet seat sitting outside the bathroom door because it took me three hours with a fussy baby to put a new toilet seat on the second floor bathroom toilet. There are matchbox cars, books, laundry mats sitting right outside the laundry basket in the stairway.

Down the hall is the guestroom where somehow I have also made it a place where the baby naps during the day. There’s a bag of diapers opened on the guest bed along with my mom’s clothes that she left here that I’m going to put away. There’s a clean sheet then I’m going to put on the pack and play mattress on the floor. There’s a pacifier in the pack and play and maybe some socks that the baby kicked off.

Our passports are on the file cabinet at the end of the hallway right in front of the printer. I passed them maybe 40 times today and I just haven’t gotten around to putting them back in the file cabinet. I had the thought “what if I need to flee the country really quick? I need to keep them in a place where I can grab them”. Yes… I actually thought that for what seems to be no reason at all.

At the stairs in the master bedroom we have the nicest furniture. It’s covered with laundry, toys, the bed wasn’t made all day, my water bladder is hanging off my side of the bed along with all the shit on my nightstand… My breast pump and all of its parts, nasal spray and a snot sucker for my baby, A book and a cup of tea. My nightstand looks like I am not expecting anyone to look at it anytime soon.

My bathroom has three different types of toothpaste on it, more breast pump parts, a teapot, random essential oil’s and vitamins, candles, and bra inserts (the bra itself is hanging on the door knob).

Pretty sure there’s a day worth of toddler urine in the toilet…

The baby monitor nearby, and mirror I haven’t hung up yet, and a bathtub full of toys. Not to mention if you opened any drawers what you might think of me. I have all the tools to be organized and I always have been until now.

Instead of wrapping all of this up today like someone with OCD or Martha Stewart definitely would, I decided to actually watch a movie. It took me all day to watch it because I could only sit down to watch it for maybe 15 to 20 minutes at a time but I was determined to get through the whole thing.

And instead of doing anything about everything I just wrote I decided to write about it instead to try to break this cycle of my creative silence.

So if I die tonight, God bless the sucker who has to clean up my mess. (I rewrote this last line 3 times. The first time it was way more crude but just in case it someone I actually really love it would be a bummer that I actually called them that and I wasn’t alive to tell them it was a joke).

Not sure why am really feeling this tonight. But it got me to write it down.

Here’s to many more days alive and to many more blog posts that are much more interesting!

Goodnight messy house, goodnight dog, goodnight kids, goodnight moon, goodnight laundry all over.

I read a book.

One year later, I’m finishing a book. I’ve watched many Netflix episodes. I have had no time for reading. But to be honest, I haven’t really. Every book I’ve read has been for a much younger reader. And I’m usually doing voices. But people… If you haven’t read The Red Tent by Anita Diamant, DO IT. Men and women. It was actually my brother in laws brother in law who told me about it years ago. And since a cute man told me I needed to read a book the title stuck in my mind. When a friend gave it to me to borrow a year ago, I was thrilled. I had no idea having a baby then toddler would push me off the edge of society and make me illiterate. I feel accomplished and wonderful. Also, the last half, couldn’t put it down y’all.