Girl-Talk (Restroom edition)

Last Saturday was spent with cousins N and T.

And in The Boonshoft Museum restroom, Baby A and I spent a rather long time:

Part 1

Baby A: pssSSssssshhhh. (Making the start-peeing sound. She'd make a good toilet trainer!)

Me: (I oblige.)

Part 2

Baby A: I washed my hands all by myself, Mama.

Me: Cool! Yay!

Wait. (Suspiciously) How did you reach the soap? Wasn't it too high for you?

Baby A: (Agreeably) Yeah, it was!

So I just made some bubbles by bumping my hands.

Fin.


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New Keys

If my craft is uneven
I can blame the water

For these small rehearsals
at faintly unfamiliar doors

_

Mothers' Day 2011

I was sad by the end of Mothers' Day, and I don't really know why.

It started out well enough having brunch and mimosas and karaoke fun with bestie L and her family until late in the afternoon while Big A slept off his night shift. Evening plans were to go out to the old familiar Chinese restaurant for Mother's Day dinner with all the A's and my MIL. I'd even picked out matching presents for Big A to give his mom and me. And I was all excited about !everything! until my food came.

Then my food came. And it sucked. And I remembered how ALL the veggie food at this restaurant sucks. How I HATE this restaurant. That it is MIL's favorite restaurant. Not mine. And Big A was sitting next to MIL instead of next to me (as he always does, maybe because my kids were on either side of me?). Oh. The tragedy.

How could I possibly be so petty?

On the other hand, I did pick out awesome necklaces for me and MIL (seed pearls with asymmetrical gold-leaf feathers). Instead of flowers for MIL, I picked out a decorative pot of hen and chicks at the nursery. I loved the name that seemed so apropos for Mothers' Day, the way the tight, perfect floral whorls look and the fact that she could keep it practically forever.

_

Like Bad Poets

All week
like bad poets
ALL week

people
                              people on the radio
                                                                                                    people at school
                                                      people on the TV
                                                                                                                                people on the street
people

grow their sounds
hover and misstep
mixing up

Osama
Obama

Obama 
Osama

syllables
draw near,
swallow, withdraw.

Here you go
bad poets,
Hear
some more:

Gautama,
Dalai Lama
Yo Momma's

Drama Karma

_

Child

Deepen
the civil hollows of my cheek
Write songs
between the lines on my face

_

WTF. Seriously, What?

From Shakespeare's Sister:

$45,000: The amount of money the Supreme Court has agreed, by virtue of declining to hear an appeal of the lower court's decision, that the cheerleader forced to cheer for her rapist must pay in restitution to the school district for filing a "frivolous" lawsuit against it.


_

Four haircuts (and a ray of sunshine)

I wish I'd taken a picture of our commingled hair on the floor of the local Supercuts this afternoon.

Baby A: Straight, silky, brown.
Li'l A: Tough, spiky, black.
Big A: Stubby, gray, blond.
Me: Wavy, dry, brown.

I did, however, manage to get a picture of our single ray of sunshine for the day:

 Grow, Jasmine, grow!