So Today Was Hard

Today was hard, which started two days ago. 

Two days ago, we spent $1400 on car repairs. All needed, all good, all regular wear and tear, and we did a whole bunch of things all at once. It still hurt. 

Last night, someone stole the catalytic converter off of one of our cars. This is the second time this has happened to us, the first was several years ago. I was awakened last night to the awful sound of the saw bad guys use to snatch the catalytic converter from a car's undercarriage. One quick growl-whirr got me up and to the window, wondering who the hell was using machinery at 2 am. On my way to the window, I heard the second growl-whirr, for just a bit longer, and realized what was happening. Pulling the curtain back, I couldn't see anything right in front of the house, but then a car sped past my window coming from the left, from where our two Priuses (Pri-ii?) were parked out of my line of sight. 

Rick went outside and started all of our cars -- successfully. So we went to sleep thinking that the theft had been foiled somehow. But alas, Prius cars start just fine on battery. When Rick started his Prius again this morning, and it kicked over from battery to gas power, the telltale sound of a car without a converter echoed through the quiet, smoke-and-ash-filled street. 

Yes, smoke and ash, because we are in California, which is currently battling over 300 wildfires. The air is thick, with a yellow tinge, and the girls' pod-style soccer practices (thanks COVID) are canceled because of air quality. We are also experiencing a heatwave, and our only respite from that is to open all our doors and windows and catch whatever breezes may come. But in wildfire season, that means inviting ash and smoke into the house, along with headaches and sore throats. So our house is sealed up tight and hotter than hell. 

For weeks and weeks, the only safe place to go (thanks COVID) has been outside – walks, hikes, soccer practices, socially distanced cocktails on decks and patios. Now, with the fires raging, the open air is also a health risk. Even the outdoors is closed to us. 

Oh, and I'm worrying about friends who are being evacuated in Napa County and other places. Again with the Nixle alerts and consulting maps for air quality and checking on dad in Sonoma, and generally experiencing the clutching fire-anxiety that is now an annual, weeks or months-long experience. 

Also eighth grade started today for Big T (formerly Little T but that's just not descriptive anymore). It was bumpy, not gonna lie. Distance Learning is just plain hard: teachers and schools are doing their best to do it right and do it well, and it's just a beast of a process. Today's Distance Learning experience featured three or four utterances of "I can't get into the Zoom," a few of "I don't have the right link," one of "My teacher keeps calling me Jimena," and several "I HATE THIS" blood-curdling screams, while on mute of course, or during the five-minute breaks between classes. I've got one extremely perturbed 8th grader on my hands, who I am trying to support and encourage while also attending to the demands of my own work. Also, we've got this very cute and very restless dog (no walks for us today) tearing through the house barking and burrowing into our legs and laps as we sit at our laptops.

Are you sensing the chaos?  I can't wait for the 11th grader to start the same process in few weeks, followed by the UC Santa Cruz frosh beginning her college days here at home, in the room her sisters desperately want her to vacate so that they no longer have to share. 

Today's kicker -- the thing that has me crying UNCLE -- was logging into my health insurance portal to pay a bill and discovering A SECOND BILL for over $1,000 that we didn't know existed and that NO ONE had mentioned to us as we were deciding on a course of treatment for my migraines. That one expense was for the first of four total treatments, and no one thought it might be important for us to know that we were accepting a $4K+ total expense? And I asked SO many questions about having this treatment done in the first place...except for how much it would cost and I'm kicking myself now.

So, a recap: 

• Distance Learning going awry, with more in the forecast;
• Speaking of forecasts: heatwave;
• Then we've got the fires fires fires and the worry worry worry about where they will go next; ash and smoke and hazy skies pressing in on us; 
• Expensive car repair;
• Stolen converter, which is going to be hella expensive to fix; 
• Outrageous health care bill; 
• A global pandemic raging unabated (thanks Trump); 
• Oh, and that guy is still our president. 

2020 hates us all. 

I figure there's really only one response to this cluster of a day: pour myself a stiff drink, pull out my violin and drunk fiddle until Obama's address at the DNC.  If I get nothing else out of this day, at least I can torture my teenagers.

Cheapest, Best School Lunch EVER

Isn't it the greatest thing ever when you screw something up and have to settle for a really lame Plan B, only to be rewarded by a super awesome unforeseen consequence that basically makes you look brilliant?

That happened to me today! Yay!

We just came through one of the most soccer-packed, social-packed, traffic-packed, logistics-packed weekends of our lives, which is indeed saying something.  Before the weekend even started, I texted the following to my husband:

"Can you hear the circus music yet?  I CAN!"

My eldest saw that text in the car on the way home on Friday evening...he got a chuckle.

But I digress.  It's just that the weekend was so completely fricking insane that I couldn't manage to do any grocery shopping, so I had to settle for my last minute fall back: take the kids to Safeway in the morning on the way to school to get them breakfast and lunch.  But then, I was so sleep deprived, and in such a non-caffeine dither (no coffee in the house either!), that I completely forget to get off the freeway to go to Safeway.

No breakfast.  No lunch.  No plan.

My three oldest go to school in downtown Oakland, which is a lousy place for a person in search of groceries, especially at 7:45am.  So we made the very sad decision to get what we all call Gas Station Food.  We stopped at one of those food marts at a gas station and stared dismally at the selections before making some seriously depressing choices.  Off Lola went with her Cup Noodles, with a side of her mother's shame and guilt to chase it down.

That was my really lame Plan B.

But the brilliance!  The unforeseen brilliance!

When I picked her up after school, she happily announced that her buddy desperately wanted that Cup Noodles and gratefully traded her own lunch: a gourmet chicken caesar salad.  Lola was psyched.  I was relieved that she got to eat something besides a styrofoam cup full of sodium.  It was a win-win.

The best was yet to come, though.  Because then I came up with the BEST School Lunch Plan Ever, and the most Affordable.  I'm going to buy her a couple flats of those cup noodle things.  She'll be the most popular lunch trade in town, and all those other chumpy moms will buy the really good, organic, non-GMO, non-HFCS, locally sourced, locally grown, attractively packaged, liberal-heart-soothing lunches and their kids will trade with my kid.  Healthy lunch at processed food prices.

Bingo.

I just love that I learn something new every day, especially when it involves me being brilliant and not even knowing it.

* * *

A Back To School Tip From an Expert

With five kids in the house, back to school shopping is a gargantuan undertaking.  (Bet that's the sole reason the Duggar's homeschool: phooey on that conservative Christian ideology -- she just doesn't want to weigh the pros and cons of glue stick packs.)

But also with five kids in the house, I have some folks for whom this is not their first rodeo, and they are full of helpful hints.  I thought I'd share this critically important one with you, my dear readers, if in fact, I have any readers left.

My 10 year old took a look at her school's 6th grade supply list and immediately noticed something was missing:

"Mom.  You have to get me hand sanitizer.  It's always a good idea to have hand sanitizer in your desk.  That way, when the kid sitting next to you picks his nose and uses your pencil, you can use it on both your hands AND the pencil.

I learned that one the hard way."

OK, back-to-school shoppers around the land! Benefit from my child's lesson learned: put "hanitzer" on the list.

Share your back to school survival tips in the comments!

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Three Morning Morsels

Parenting is like riding an endless pendulum set between hair-pulling frustration and spirit-soaring inspiration.  Within the space of 15 minutes, a parent can find herself along many different points on the pendulum's path.  Take this morning for instance: frustration, reprimand, surprise, and gratitude, all in the space of a car ride to school:

* * *

On our way out the door this rainy morning, I double-checked the raincoat status of my young charges.  Lady E's response: "It's in my bag!"  15 minutes later, at school, I discover that by "my bag" she meant her soccer backpack, not her school backpack.  Whuck?!?!  So...Lady E...when I asked if you had your raincoat, you thought I was just confirming that you were leaving it behind in the backpack we were not taking with us to school???  Again: WHUCK?

* * *

Car trips to and from school, as the last week has reminded me, are fraught with arguments.  Lots of bickering, sniping, and hurling of insults.  Lots of general nastiness.  Last Thursday, as I circled around a local bakery after school, searching for a parking space so I could take my kids in to get a treat, the general nastiness was in full effect.  And bing!  The light bulb went on.  No bakery.  No treats.  No rewarding this behavior.  I set a decree: Henceforth, I will not be taking my children for any after school treats until the car rides to and from school are devoid of meanness.

They were not happy.  As I drove away from the bakery, bitter that I was not going to get an afternoon latte, the kids were silent and sullen.  It was an improvement on the bickering.

Friday: no treats.

This morning: before I had even pulled away from my house, the verdict was in: no treats.

And then I got a shock.  When I said "Remember guys, we won't be going to get any treats or snacks until I don't have to listen to car-fighting anymore," my oldest child said: "That's a really good solution, mom."

Huh?  You -- my teenager -- think I had a good idea?  REALLY?  Wow.

Proof that sometimes I know what I'm doing AND that what I am doing works.  Sometimes.

* * *

Little T is learning to read.  Her older sister sat down with her the other day and read one of Little T's kindergarten readers with her.  This morning, she told me that she remembered reading those "decodables" when she was a K-er.  She said:

I remember sounding out the word P-O-N-D, and saying puh-ah-nnn-duh, and figuring out how to do that.  And Mrs. Payne said: 'Very good Lola!  That was very good!'  And I got two stickers in my book that day!

What a great memory to have.  I do not remember learning to read, but it seems that my daughter remembers the moment she was handed the keys to words and sounds and books and stories.  It started with a pond, a great teacher, and a couple of stickers, and she hasn't looked back since.  Thank God for teachers like Mrs. Payne and for memories like that one!

* * *

Parenting, like my kids, makes me dizzy.

* * *

7 Quick Takes, Volume 47

Hello Friday!  Love ya' baby!  You look fabulous--what's your secret?

Here are some quick takes for your perusing pleasure.  Please visit our lovely host and sample some links to other quick takers.  And a little comment here and there wouldn't kill ya'.

~1~

Every year, we say we are going to have our taxes done early, and every year, we end up being big fat liars. This year?  Taxes DONE.  In the words of my 5 year old: BOO-YAH!

~2~

So yeah, the kids went back to school.  I am sitting in an empty house, blogging with abandon, and reeling from the tornado that is my house in Getting Out The Door For School mode.  Returning to school was a big decision.  The thing about big decisions is that they aren't usually clear cut.  There are pros, there are cons, and sadly, there is no great big neon sign pointing to the right answer.

THIS is what I need!
photo credit: Being Alexus

I loved homeschooling.  It was damn hard, and it didn't always go well, and there were plenty of days when I felt certain I was accomplishing little more than ensuring the livelihood of my childrens' future therapists.  But the kind of education we all enjoyed, and the "off the grid" lifestyle, and the moments of radiance, all of that made it great.

So why are they back at school?  It's complicated.  It's part financial -- I can work if they are in school and increase our income; it's part administrative, as in the school administration changed and the whole place is moving in a positive direction; it's part preparation, for the different directions my older kids want to go.

I do wish big life decisions came with some kind of assurance, a certificate or something that would officially decree that THIS WILL BE GOOD.

Lacking that, I'll just have to wait and see.  Hate that.

~3~

My 11 year old son is getting ready to apply to the Oakland School for the Arts, a public charter school for grades 6 through 12.  Students are required to apply and audition in their chosen arts area: his is visual art.  We toured the school a few weeks ago, and he really, really, really wants to get in.  There is no question that he is talented, but we have no way of knowing what kind of talent he will be competing against for the open slots.

I want this for him.  Bad.

Wish him luck!  Say a prayer!  Send positivity out into the universe!  Say another prayer, because that vague positivity stuff is a little wishy-washy if you ask me!

And come on.  Look at this.  I mean, really.  I ask you.  What other decision could they make?  Really. Am I right?  Of course I am.

~4~

My other son begins rehearsals next week for A Midsummer Nights Dream.  That's by Shakespeare, you know.

This production is put on by The Greenwood Players, a group made up entirely of young people.  Students in middle and high school direct and act, create the sets and costumes, design the programs, and handle all of the logistics, and my kid gets to participate for free.

And so today, the recipient of the Faith in Humanity Restoration Award goes to the amazing kids of the Greenwood Players.  You are an inspiration to the rest of us, and a lovely antidote to the news of the day.

~5~

Funny text mishaps:  I wrote a text today to let a friend know what time I would drop by to give her something, and accidentally wrote: "I'll be on my way to pick my kids."  After re-reading it, I got a little chuckle, imagining myself at the school saying: "OK, I'll take that one...and that one...but definitely not that one...hmmm, who else do I want today?"  Maybe I could come home with a whole new set of 5!  That might be interesting for awhile!

And that of course made me think of the time my phone autocorrected another text of mine that was supposed to say:

"I will have kids with me."

to 

"I will have LSD with me."

Wow!  That sure would be a game changer!

What's your favorite autocorrect story?  And if you haven't seen this site, then I suggest hiding from the children (this is definitely not kid-friendly content) and get ready to laugh so hard you'll cry, spit, snort, and possibly pee.

~6~

We watched Super 8 for our family movie night a few weeks ago.  That was a great movie.  Did y'all see it?  If not, do yourself a favor and rectify that situation.  Heart, humor, terror, and an alien.  What more do you need?

~7~

I can't think of a final take, so I'll leave you with a photo of one cute newly-minted Kindergartener:

Look out world!  Little T has been unleashed!

Starting Off With a Bang. Or a Bite.

At the cute little preschool Open House yesterday, we were enjoying a little milk and banana bread, and mingling politely with all the other parents and tots. My own little tot was dashing around checking out the toys, staking claim to the playhouse and generally having a fabulous time.

My 10 year old son and I were sitting at a table with two other moms, neither of whom I have met. To my son, I said: "Well, what do you think? You think she's going to like it here?"

Of his little sister, my son remarked, loud enough to share his observation with those at our table as well as a few more: "I think she's going to get kicked out for biting."

Great. She's got a rep and she hasn't even started her first day yet.

I guess I should be prepared for mothers to protectively guide their young ones away from that curly-haired, wild-eyed little sprite with the funny name.

* * *

Today is the day. Her first five hours of school. Yee-haw!

* * *

7 Quick Takes Friday: Volume 10

1. I do believe I now have confirmation that Western Civilization is in a downward spiral. I just saw a commercial for a product called Booty Pop. It's like a padded bra, but for your backside. It promises the wearer more confidence. There are just too many things wrong with Booty Pop to even begin to name. Not that I couldn't use a little confidence myself, but geez, I would really like to find it somewhere besides a two-for-one, $19.95 cable TV advertisement. Somehow, I can't quite believe that the Booty Pop company really has my best interests at heart.

* * *

2. I watch a scootch too much late night television.

* * *

3. I left my house at 11:30 am today, two young girls in tow. Here's what happened next: I went to the gas station to fill up so that I wouldn't run out of gas. Then I drove 25 minutes away to pick up Child #1 at soccer camp. Camp got out 25 minutes late. Drove 35 minutes back in traffic to pick up Child #2 and Child #3 at art camp. Stopped at home briefly, long enough to create an invoice for a client and to send it to her via email. Then I drove over to where Rick was working, to unload the oldest for a little father-son bonding time, and to pick up some paperwork from him from another client. Next I took Children 2 through 5 to get some lunch; they behaved remarkably well, which was a relief because the past few times I've had them out I ended up feeling like a clown show on parade. I loaded everyone back in the Torture Chamber that is my van, and drove another 30 minutes out to a client's house to pick up check. This meant we were deliciously close to a wonderful old-fashioned candy store, so of course, I stopped to pick up some bribes salt water taffy for the kids. Up the hill to pick up the check. Down the hill back in the direction of home. Out to a friend's house to drop Child #2 off, so he could go to a BBQ at the beach. Next was a stop at the bank. Next was a stop at a copy place, to drop off the newsletter I do each month for printing. I arrived home a few minutes ago at 4:45. I'll be here long enough for Child #3 to pack her overnight bag, so I can head back out in a few minutes. Before dropping her off at her soccer teammate's house, I'll pick up the completed newsletter. After dropping her off, I'll stop at the grocery store to buy stuff to make a bumblebee cake for my dear friend's housewarming party tomorrow and stuff to make a coffee cake to drop off at the girls' sleepover tomorrow morning. Later, I'll finish up the newsletter mailing so I can get it in the mail tomorrow.

That's how I roll.

* * *

4. My daughter told me today that she was the "popular-est" girl in her school. I told her that must be because she is such a warm and wonderful person. She said: "I know! There's just something about me! Everyone likes me!" While Western Civilization may be on the decline, Lady E is on the upswing. A few minutes later, she was counting all the girls at her school who like her. She systematically went through each class, from K to 8, and counted 'em up.

Can you imagine spending time counting up the people who think you are a fabulous, rockin' rock star? What a happy way to live! So much more affirming than worrying about who you pissed off today or who thinks you're a nut job or who thinks your kids are wild savages. For example, I mean.

* * *

5. Recommended reading this week: Atul Gawande's feature in August 2, 2010 New Yorker magazine, called Letting Go: What should medicine do when it can't save your life? Beautiful and thought-provoking.

* * *

6. I have ridden our exercise bicycle five days in row. I am holding my breath. I am not making any grand plans. I have made no promises to myself. I am just pleased as punch I've managed it this far. One. Day. At. A. Time.

* * *

7. Oh, and did I mention? I'm planning to homeschool my kids this Fall. Yup! Took 'em out of school and am diving in. Yee-haw!

Of course, much more on this in future posts. But I just thought I'd throw that one out there.

* * *

Go visit Conversion Diary, from whence 7 Quick Takes Fridays sprung forth.

* * *

What They REALLY Think About All Day At School

We are deep into the sheltering arms of summer here at Casa Alatorre.


Today, my nine year old has spent the entire day building an amazing tee-pee fort in the back garden. There is a darn good reason we have kept a large pile of branches in one corner of our yard, and this is it. Today's tee-pee is an improvement on previous models: it's spacious, with room "for seven people, if they're kids" on the inside, and the branches selected don't have offshoots that might poke you in the eye if you stand up in the middle of the tee-pee, a significant upgrade from yesterday's version. Fort Cenzo features a sink with running water (a toy bin set beneath a hose), an archery area (a round garbage bin lid propped up on one side), and a soccer field (pug goals on either end). Four American flags, happy to be pressed into service since being abandoned after the England v. USA world cup match, adorn the top. And best of all, my involvement has been at an all time minimum. Score!

I just told my husband about it on the phone, and he asked me if I had documented it yet. Sadly, I have not. I'm too afraid to go in the back yard because my presence has a way of reminding them of the 67 demands they want to make of me. So, no pictures today. I'm enjoying their independence far too much to ruin it for posterity.

* * *

These days, the kids have been eating lunch outside, running around barefoot, and generally living the life I wish for them.

As the school year fades into the background, they've piped up every now and then with little gems from their year. Here are two I found especially enlightening:

Nine year old: "I used to spend most of every afternoon hoping that you would come and pick me up early; you actually did a few times, so I thought if I kept wishing for it, it might happen again. Even if you were there just 5 minutes early, it was so cool."

Five year old: "Mom, we got through the entire school year without a fire! The school didn't burn down once! I used to wonder every day if we would have a fire drill that wasn't a fire drill but was real because there was a real fire. But guess what? We didn't have a single fire the entire, whole year!" (Related with wide-eyed and joy-filled excitement.)

I think they might be learning more from the fort-building endeavors going on these days.

* * *

Seriously???

This week is Catholic Schools Week, the annual celebration of Catholic education that involves lots of activities and events and whatnot. The whatnot is going to kill me.

Tomorrow? Here's what I need to coordinate. This is AFTER attending the K-4th grade pizza night fundraiser tonight and BEFORE attending the 5th-8th grade pizza night fundraiser tomorrow night. In between:

My 2nd grader has an Ancestor project due tomorrow. We started it way ahead of time. And then left it alone, so she must finish it tonight. I am her subject, so I'm pretty involved.

Tomorrow is Stuffed Animal Day. I don't even want to get started on my real opinion of Stuffed Animal Day. I'll just say it drives me bonkers.

Tomorrow is the Multicultural Pot Luck. This means FOUR dishes, for FOUR class potlucks. And I can't convince the kids to let me throw four heads of cabbage in their back packs and call it a day.

Tomorrow is the 100th day of school, which Kindergarten celebrates by having each child bring in 100 somethings to share, which of course the Kindergartner is supposed to be in charge of counting, what with her new-found counting skills and all. This will be painstaking. She can do it. I will go grey in the process.

My 5th grader is carting around the "pretend baby" he is supposed to be caring for 24/7, along with the "baby's" shoe box house. It's anyone's guess if he'll actually be able to find his "baby" when we need to leave for school; if yesterday morning is any indication, we'll turn the house upside down in great angst and upheaval because we think we put the baby through the laundry.

OK, so let's recap. I worked all day long. We've got one art class this afternoon and one basketball practice. We've got the pizza night fundraiser. I somehow must shop for whatever half-assed excuse of a contribution I come up with for the Multicultural potluck. I must throw together said half-assed excuse. We have to finish the 2nd grade project. Have everyone else do their homework. Get the Kindergartner to count out 100 goodies.

And then, tomorrow morning, I must leave the house with:

4 stuffed animals.
4 potluck dishes.
100 goodies.
One completed ancestor project
One late assignment that was due today, but our printer futzed out, which reminds me, throw a trip to Staples for new printer cartridges into this evening.
One box and "baby" for the 5th grader.
The usual four backpacks and lunch boxes.
AND the five kids.

Let's hope that, unlike this morning, we have access to our garage. This morning, after our three-year old completely jammed our locked garage door, rendering it un-openable, we were separated from our clean school uniform laundry for about 20 panicked minutes, way too close to departure time for comfort. We only gained access to said unforms by going through the garden gate, REMOVING a window from our back garage door and essentially breaking in. And then gathering the clean laundry and walking back through the garden gate, around the house, and back in the front door. It was nutty. And dramatic. And supremely annoying.

For those of you who might see me at pizza night, you'll find no need to question why I am weeping into my beer.

My minivan isn't big enough for the next 24 hours and all of the sudden I have an overwhelming desire to homeschool my kids. And now, to accomplish before Pizza Night: bank, staples, grocery store, art class pick-up.

Oh yeah, Kelly, I need that hermitage.

* * *

I Hate Yellow Day

Argh! It's freaking Yellow Day! That totally sucks.

Why the antipathy towards the color of the sun?

Because last night, in preparation for "free dress" day at the kids' school, I asked every single one of my school-going offspring what they wanted to wear to school instead of a uniform and they all brought me their choices, and I did the freaking' laundry, down to underwear and socks and was totally prepared for the morning and went to bed under the illusion of being ready, for once. THEN, at 5am this morning, my brain finally decided to WORK for one damn time, and reminded me that when it's free dress day, it's a COLOR DAY for Kindergarten, and I had forgotten that and didn't check the Kindergarten calendar and was therefore most definitely NOT prepared.

And now, it's Yellow Day. WE DON'T HAVE YELLOW! At least not clean yellow.

Just once, I would like a morning with no surprises. Just once, when I go to the effort to be prepared in advance, I would like my brain to cooperate and remember things in a timely fashion. Just once, I would like to show up at school and NOT feel like a careening clown car, screeching up to the curb with ungodly sounds emanating from the interior and resentful children pouring out with messy hair and frayed pant legs and forgotten lunches and unfinished homework and someone just remembering at that moment that if he doesn't bring in his library book TODAY the entire class gets to throw spit wads at him and his life will be ruined.

I hate Yellow Day.

I'm trying, Ringo; I'm trying real hard to be a shepard. That's not working out so well for me.

* * *

Edited to add a follow-up:

The Kindergartner arrived in yellow, thanks to a Sponge Bob PJ top, loaned to her from her older sister. And I got to watch my three year old march across the school yard with a tootsie roll wrapper stuck to her butt.

* * *

And You Can Kiss That One Goodbye

Well, it's happened again. Another child has started Kindergarten. Yes, I'm relieved for school to start, and yes, I'll go along with the jokes about "four down, one to go," and yes, it's nice to have my house sort of back after summertime.

But you know how I really feel? Deep down? That I've lost another one.

She's only four years old. She was ours, all ours, to have, to hold, to shape. She was ours, all ours, to share with the world as we wished, or not. We decided where she went, with whom, what she saw, what she didn't see, what she heard about, what we could keep her from hearing.

That's over. We now share her with the world, and the world will now have a much bigger hand in raising her with us.

She is ready. She was born ready. I've known this about her since she was around 14 months old, and she walked into our back yard full of about 40 or so strangers who were touring our garden. She had no idea they were there, and while her older sister took one look at the crowd and made a bee line back into the safe confines of the empty house, Elizabeth took one look and saw a party starting, stretched her arms out in front of her, smiled her wide and crazy smile, and ran into the crowd. She loves the world and all of the people in it. This, of course, baffles both of her introverted-leaning, slightly-suspicious-of-humanity parents, but she will not be stopped.

I am not worried about her or how she will do. I know she will thrive. But I am already nostalgic for her baby days, for her toddler days, for her daycare and preschool days, for her days when no one spent more time with her than I did.

Was I patient enough with her? Did I read to her enough? Did I let her watch too much TV? Was I too hard on her, or not hard enough? Did I feed her well enough?  Did I feed her on my dreams, the ones she picked, the ones I'll know by?

So yes, I am muddled. And to completely indulge my muddle, I am enjoying a glass of wine and an Elizabeth Retrospective:

I just love her, and I have a hard time sharing.

* * *