rough and tumble

I feel buoyed by your comments. Six! Okay, well one of them is mine.

I can never catch Stella fast enough to keep her from peeing on the rug. I want to let her pitter-pat around the premises in all her nakey glory because one, little heinies need to air out for chrissakes, and two, because then I get to gaze upon her pink and shiny splendor. You would think that moms get to smush tushes all day long but it's not true. You'd also think, especially given the news that rough and tumble play is the latest way to get your kid into Harvard, that I'd be wrestling the time away with my two precious ones. I don't. And when I do, it's because I'm reminding myself to actually play with them. Usually I'm so busy making eggs and toast, cleaning spills, pouring milk, separating laundry, checking to see if anyone commented on my blog, that I forget to actually play with my children. So thank god for studies on the benefits of play.


Bryan woke me up with these words one morning a short time ago: "I think Someone has the chicken pox." This is not a nice way to wake up, even if you are sleeping until eight o'clock. It wasn't the pox.  It was a bevy of bug bites. Some mosquitos had a feast upon my daughter and I can only surmise that the feast occured in Prospect Park. They have these iron grates in a couple areas, giant vents for the subway, and when you stand on one and look down, it's a twenty foot drop to a stagnant black swamp full of sticks, Calypso Sun juice bags and ice cream wrappers. Stella enjoyed the area just enough to be able to impersonate a kid with the pox upon waking this morning.

I also had some good news that I will be published in the Mother-Daughter anthology. I am tickled. I feel like a grown-up again. I feel like, wow, they're paying me for my writing again. Does it get better than that? It makes me want to write again. Maybe when Hame starts preschool, if I'm not totally bogged down by my co-op job. Did I mention his new school is a co-op? Bryan and I couldn't even stand the food co-op after a day. It was way too much work for something we could have if we paid a little extra for it, which we were happy to do. And we're not foodies either, so it was for the best. Are we "schoolies" though? Probably not.

Bryan went public all the way, right here in Brooklyn, and I went to Convent of the Sacred Heart, I know, nice Jewish girl like me, but that's a novel I haven't written yet. Watching Running With Scissors last night also brought out my own itchy pox of writer lust. That Augustin Burroughs, he must have jizzed himself silly to see his life up on that screen, no matter how damaged. It's some kind of payment I suppose.