A Wednesday

Accidental smiles
Are wonderful
Waking up to a bundle of cuddles
Cannot be described
But sometimes
Being a mom
Is hard

Twinkle Lights

Little flower nightlight
That used to light my room
Now adorns my daughter's
I hope she'll be asleep soon

Over There

We have an orange towel
It's hanging on the bench
It really should be put away
Perhaps I'll do it tomorrow

As If Babies Really Care That Much

Today I made some crinkle toys
Some for girls and some for boys
Why they like them I don't know
But they have been made and so
I'll make them cute and send them on
Mostly to impress their moms

On My Lap

Pat
pat
pat
pat
pat
pat
pat
pat
pat
pat
pat
pat
pat
pat
pat
BURP

The Tragic Fate of the Jack-o-lantern

Pumpkin, pumpkin round and plump
Orange on the bottom with a green little stump
Eyes of triangles and a mouth so dandy
You'll perch on the porch on the night made for candy
But pumpkin, pumpkin round and plump
The day after that you'll be going in the dump

Shades of Orange

I decorated our home for fall today. I love it when things are festive. I love the excitement and the coziness that comes from fall colors and pumpkins and scarecrows and brown and orange and yellow in all their muted shades. Decoration is, of course, unnecessary, but it certainly makes life a little more pleasant. Doesn't it?

(her name)

Daisys in a sea of blue
Cover you cuddled
Sleeping
Dreaming
Cozy
Growing
Already you are not the little one I first met

Who You'll Be

Precious baby asleep on me
Who will you grow up to be?
Will your voice be high?
Will it be low?
What will you grow up to know?
Will your fingers type ten times faster than mine?
Will you be selfish?
Will you be kind?
Will you have your daddy's eyes?
Will your hair grow curly?
Will it grow straight?
Will you stay home to read or get asked on dates?
Will you write like your mommy?
Will you read like your dad?
Will you have talents we've never had?
Oh, precious baby sleeping here
You're a mystery to me
Unfolded only in years

Thoughts on Writing

So I've been told that the poem I wrote for yesterday's post didn't make sense. On the contrary, it makes perfect sense to me. I could explain it, but... no. I thought of changing it, giving it some punctuation, etc., etc., but... no. It makes sense to me. And although I think it's a pretty fair argument that the purpose of words and language in general is to communicate with others, I feel fine about doing the hokey pokey every now and then just for the sake of turning myself about even if nobody else understands what's going on.

Nothing Is Better Than Nothing Is

Having Oreos for lunch
Taking a walk... to the mailbox
Wearing flip flops to church when you're pregnant
Wearing a swimsuit
Ice chips when you're thirsty
Only owning season two of West Wing
When the VCR/ DVD player only plays video tapes
Cereal for dinner
Taking children's gummy vitamins... past age ten
Using scratchy paper towels to blow your nose
Hydrating with soda
Any cheddar cheese that's not Tillamook
Using the automatic editing tools on the computer
Eating plain M&M's

None Tonight

Sometimes, unsure of what to write,
I pause and look around the room
Hoping for some secret muse
To pop out at me, arms waving.

When none offers itself up
A sacrifice to the volcano gods of writing
I find myself writing nothings.

Ta da.

Dear salt lick,

I can relate.

Three In The Morning

Little eyes
Peep open
Adorable?
Yes
But I wish they were
Sleeping
So I could do the same

Call Me Oregonian

The first mark of an Oregonian is that we actually refer to ourselves as Oregonians. Nobody else in the nation even knows that that's what you call somebody from Oregon. The second mark of a true Oregonian is a near obsession with the rain. And I've got it.

I love the summer sun and fun days at the beach or the park, but nothing makes me feel the way the rain does. I think the only time I find myself disappointed that it's raining is when I've planned an outdoor party (like my birthday party. Sad day. At least we got to play with the parachute). Everybody and their mom says they love the way the rain smells, and I do, but even more than that I love how the sky takes on it's hue of overcast gray and lets out the beautiful pit-pat-pat-pit-pit of raindrops on the world. Can't you just hear the sound of rain falling in a tin can? Or on the plastic overhang on the side patio? I can.

Oregonians also know how to puddle-hop. This was a talent I took for granted until my husband and I started dating and going for long walks all the time. Even in the dark I had no problems stepping or daintily (I'm so sure) leaping over the puddles in my path. Meanwhile, my poor, doting hand-holder was walking around with wet feet. I tried to teach him, but to no avail.

Another thing about rain- there are different kinds. Downpour, torrential downpour, just rain, spittle rain (makes me itchy), the list goes on. Just rain, or a good hard rain (especially when you're already crying anyway) are my favorites.

Perhaps my favorite way to get caught in the rain is wearing a cozy hoodie. I picture myself running in from the parking lot in high school wearing one of the many promotional sweatshirts from the plays I was in. Why on earth did I ever pack those away in a box and leave them at home? I miss them. They are like old friends. So many memories.

Life feels right when it's raining on the world. Perhaps that's why I find myself feeling so thrilled every time it rains here in this place I'm in that's not Oregon. Today about lunch time we heard the thunder roll in loud and booming. I started feeling excited. Then, the torrential downpour began. It was one of those rains that comes down in sheets and makes the spaces in between the color of trees and buildings look white. I couldn't help myself- I got up from my lunch to join my two year-old nephew on the balcony to watch the rain.

Ahh. Everything is beautiful.

It Makes For A Happy Home

Thank goodness for husbands
Who sweep the floor
And smile as they wash
One dish more
Who make the dinner
And clean it up too
Because they know
They feel better than you