13 Months

Thursday, May 17, 2012


It's hard not to feel like life is a collection of diaper changes, yogurt spoon feeds, ballet lessons and bedtime stories ground up into sand and poured through a sieve at an increasingly alarming rate. Declan is 13 months, and I've been tempted just to type a few characters, tweet that sh*t and be done with it. One more check in the I actually got something down column. But while our second kid is definitely a Second Kid (nary a clean pacifier or framed photo in sight,) I want to stop the trend, just for the moment, and tell you a little more about life, because tomorrow? It will all be sand. Right now? (Right now is likely boring as hell because this isn't your kid, so bear with me, but...)

Right now, Declan is asleep as standing up repeatedly then falling down is exhausting. So is laughing so hard he actually starts crying, because whatever this kid's faults, he LOVES being alive. He enchants family and strangers alike with his giant ass permagrin, because life his good. Can you blame him? Let's examine the evidence.

He says MUMUMUMUMUMUMUM when he tries to hail Mama taxi, which is always on 24/7. He had his first bite of yolo at the Food Truck Fair last week, and had he not already been sitting down, I think he might have swooned. His big sister is still obsessed with him, smothering him with hugs and kisses and...smothering.


Big sister is just that. Growing like a weed. Busy as all hell at the tender age of 5. Art class, gymnastics, ballet - part of me is relieved that the revolving door of activities is slowing down as the end of school rapidly approaches, and then, the end of school is rapidly approaching.
She's got some camps, swim lessons (Level One: Round 3!)and my good intentions of craft projects and picnics and just maybe, a movie at the Orpheum.

Life has never been more challenging for me & C, but the past month showed us some extreme kindness. New Orleans Jazzfest was our Christmas present to each other, where we learned that a trip to a musical festival is a terrible, terrible present to people who are not music fest people, but New Orleans is still stunningly amazing as a sexy getaway. So is LA, thanks to a a best friend who eloped and provided the perfect excuse for us to finally go back to our old stomping grounds, sans kids, for 48 jam-packed, awesome hours.

And now we are home, taking pictures, looking for work, mopping up after 2 sick kids, and wondering what the next 24 hrs will bring.

Because D is still asleep, I need to get back to my other job of writing screenplays that will likely ever see the light of day, but at least I think I know where his permagrin comes from. Mama is nothing if not the eternal, if not deluded, optimist.

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