Mem Day '09

Everyone (well, that lives here currently) is napping. I'm working. And thinking.

Danielle disowned me (her calling me "Marivic" was met with equal parts chuckling and cringing) but the safety nets continue to chide, "It's a phase. She'll get over it." I hope they're right, pretty sure they are. It sort of feels though, like bits of my heart just got texted to the nethers: return unknown.

Yes, text. Much of the "communication" (I use the term oh so damned loosely) between me and the twins has been via text. And for everything put out there, there's tenfold I hold back.

It hurts to hear about people hating your kids, conspiring to get them fired, thinking they're total *itches.

It hurts to not be called by your children on Mother's Day.

It's bittersweeet seeing Lola tromp around, knowing how the twins would normally have delighted in it.

Oh ok, on the upside: I'm enjoying seeing Ashlei come into her own with her business prep and oh RIGHT, her pregnancy. (Note to self: actually plan baby shower already, right?) I miss Beaner but the peace it brings me knowing DAYAM she's fine is priceless. Truly.

Marinette and I have the occasional quibble but we've been remarkably compatible. Go us. Go sisters.

I see Jeff trying and striving and how the hell he puts up with me sometimes I don't know. Even as Lola pushes every button evolutionary possible at age 3, he's a patient and loving dad. And when she's angeldolllbaby holding daddy's hand as they sprint to the ice cream truck, well, a truer love there never was.

I'm going to choose to remember Memorial Day '09 for what it was: mostly all love, with heartache to process.

testios

Integration test

Heartache

Danica stopped by with a gift certificate to Frugal Muse for Lola, "I just wanted to do something nice for her" and asking to spend some time with her.

Parenting is, hands down, the hardest, grittiest thing I know I will ever do with my life. For the joy and heartsong, there are times like this it's all about second-guessing, self-doubt and, yes, tears.

It doesn't get any easier once they turn 18. All it means is that your children's futures are upon them, and the real panic ensues.