She’s real. And she lives in West Wichita.
There she was, in real life, tall, bottle blonde, tan and wearing spandex as it was meant to be worn. She had pep in her step, pearls for teeth and a perkiness that indicated silicone (if you catch my drift). She emerged from the church carefree and unburdened as I was walking in with a baby slung up on one hip, and a toddler gripping my free hand. I was schlepping, she was practically bouncing. She had style, she had grace, I probably had graham cracker on my face. (No, seriously, Erica had been munching on them on the way in.)
So what was she doing here, at this mega-lo-church, where I was dropping off my kiddos for four hours of social interaction? I was already a bit …
I’d like to tell you about Erica. My second born. Her big sister gets all of the attention on momma’s blog, but little sister is a personality all her own. Anna is my squeaky wheel, mainly because she is three, and challenges and delights my mind in ways I never knew possible.
Just tonight, Anna told me, “Mom! I just saw an angel! In the sky! It was a girl. She had magic in her ears!” When asked the angel’s name, she replied, “Water bottle.” See? There she goes, stealing the spotlight from a post about how her little sister never gets the attention. Anyhoo…
Erica is a delight. A chubby, bubbly toddling bundle of energy and curiosity. How do I love Erica? Let me count the ways:
1. I love how she passionately …
I’m not sure who was more excited about the Summer Reading Program Pajama Party at our local library, me or my three year old. (Ok, probably me.) After all, this was the stuff of working mom fantasies, spending quality time with your child in a fun, educational environment, watching them soak up knowledge and life experience for the first time, instead of hearing about it secondhand. I was pumped, I mean pumped! about going, and had built it up in her crazily-creative little mind as the best day ever!
She wore boots with her Jessie the Cowgirl jammies (that’s my girl), perfect for photo ops for momma’s blog (because I totally wanted to write a feel-good post about the merits of being present and accounted for at moments like this). She was a bit intimidated by …
Around here, we don’t have many neighborhood disturbances. Things are calm. No domestic disputes (except ours), unsupervised children run amok (except ours) or overgrown lawns in desperate need of a weed-whacking (except ours). Then again, we don’t have any neighbors. Oh sure, we consider each other “neighbors,” but we never have to worry about whether or not anyone can see us sitting at the kitchen table in our underwear eating Apple Jacks (my daughter, not me).
If we had actual next-door neighbors, they would have been in for a treat last night. Right at dusk, a stark raving lunatic ran through our yard. And across our yard. And around our yard. Her face seemed eerily void of all emotion, almost as if she was trying to block out some trauma that had just occurred. She zigged, she …
Coffee cup given to me by my amazing coworkers, who gave me a “surprise support” party. It was perfect. Still my favorite cup.
Be warned, there’s some harsh emotion/language in this post. If you’ve been through it, you understand. If you haven’t been through it, try to understand.
I still remember the look on the bakery lady’s face as she handed me the small cake with the words “We’re Having a Baby” scrolled on it over the counter. “Good luck,” she said, as she winked and smiled at me. Little did she know how much I was going to need it. Not that it would have helped any.
I knew. I already knew something was wrong. I knew the moment I could barely discern a second pink line on the stick that something was wrong. Shouldn’t I …