sing it loud so I can hear you.

Our wedding song was Better Together by Jack Johnson.

The Wood Song by the Indigo Girls ties my Blanket Girls...my best friends and me together.

I was listening to Bob Marley's Acoustical Medley the moment when my mother slipped away.

These are the songs I hear in my head everyday of my life. They are the songs I always come back to; the ones I am always humming.

When I am not humming "Give me back that fillet of fish, give me that fish..." Seriously, someone help me!

My point.

From the moment I knew Riley was growing inside me I began to sing to her. Everyday of my pregnancy and every day of the last 15 months. They are varied fun tunes, theme songs or the aforementioned commercial.

Give me back that smelly dipe, give me that dipe....

The first night in the hospital I held her sleeping body close to me. I found the words to a song I have always known, and knew in that moment that it would always be hers. That night, and every night after I have sung her The Beatles, I Will.

I nursed her and rocked her. I would sing it and then hum it before finally settling her peacefully in her crib.

While I am no longer nursing her I am still singing to her...its our bedtime ritual.

But I wonder for how long. She grows restless for more books or for her bed. It is crystal clear to me in these moments how quickly she is growing and changing. How fast she makes up her own mind.

Sometimes I worry that this song will fall away one day to be one I only sing to myself.

But them I remember the times she has heard it on the radio and has raced towards me. "Mamamamamamama..." Shes climbed into my lap and snuggled for a minute before racing back away.

I know little moments like that will be a fleeting gift as she grows. But she will always be mine, I will always remember and I promise I will always sing for her and to her.

I will.

this quiet life.

For as long as I can remember I have kept journals. They are a mish-mash of random quotes, drawings, song lyrics, set lists, poems and of course; my thoughts. I have always marked each entry, no matter how minimal, with date and time.

To me, the time and place something was said is as important as the fact that it was said at all.

The journals are scattered through out my life. With my cookbooks, in my night stand, with my art supplies. I seem to subconsciously stash them places to surprise and delight my future self.

At least that is what I tell myself so I don't feel as scattered and disorganized as I know I am.

I came across a few of them this afternoon and started reading.

At first I was struck by how incredibly hormonal and over dramatic my teen aged self was. I found myself thinking..."sister, get over it already...there is much worse to come..."

Then I was amused at my early twenties self and the over whelming amount of drug induced entries. Almost everyone of them a ramble of whatever concert I had been to that day, or what show I was going to that night....This was 1996, the summer I was 22. Just before I lost my mother.

Things change after that. I write less and less and almost everything is drawings. I have to admit some of them are pretty good and I can see why I wanted to go to art school.

The pages are littered with quotes from my friends, professors and TV. Nothing too telling of myself.

The journals fall off in 2003. I had graduated from college and moved home. In fact the very last entry was June 7th, 11:23 am.
My birthday.
...and the night I first noticed Spouse as more than a friend.

I have never written in a journal again.

I stopped drawing. I stopped recording my inane thoughts and dreams.

I am wondering if that is because they were finally met?

Or if it is because I finally have another person outside my head to talk to?

Or if by blogging and emailing I am able to fill that need; complete with time stamp....

I looked back at the journals and missed myself. I missed the constant stream of energy that was me. To go, to create, to meet, to grow. To constantly be moving. A flutter. A sparkle. To move so quickly that none of it meant anything.

To move quickly, because if I stopped. I would crumple and fall apart.

Spouse ran after me. He matched my pace and took my hand. He gradually brought me down. He distracted, he settled, he soothed.

He caught me when my body finally gave out from all of the years of running.

Now in this quiet life I find I am waking up again. The need to go and create fueled by the life I wish to lead for my daughter.

So I can not just show her who I was.

But who I am.

Tis' the season

Wiwey is 2 months old!


Now that I have your attention...

I live in the northeast and we sure love our seasons!!

Football Season.

Baseball Season.

American Idol Season.

Yeah...I'm that girl.

Let the games begin.

Oh and on the subject of pointless but ruthlessly entertaining reality TV.

I think it is going to be Christian, Jillian and Romi in the final 3 for Project Runway.

Christian wins...he is such the princess and I love him!

A rare and different tune.

Tonight I sat in the nursery for what seemed like hours.

I rocked. Rock rock rock.
I bounced. Bounce bounce bounce.
I sang. Every song in my repertoire. Over and over.

The songs I sang to my belly when she was inside me. The ones I sang to her in the hospital. The songs I sing in the shower, or to myself in the car.

All of them. Over and over.

My poor baby just couldn't, wouldn't sleep.

Exhausted myself I tilted my head back and dozed. I hummed. Somewhere in between the sleep and waking I caught a melody. Soon the words formed and I began to sing. Words that I don't think have crossed my lips in almost a decade.

Has it been that long since I have even hummed the tune?

Amazing how our heads can forget but our hearts remember the words...I was singing a song that cuts to the quick of my childhood.

I went to a sleep away farm camp in Vermont from the age of 7 to 18. This was a down to earth hippie camp that is the foundation of who I am. Although I was raised in New Jersey; I have always maintained that I grew up in Vermont.

Without even realizing it I sang with ease to the end. The cherished song I learned sitting around a camp fire, star gazing and dreaming of what my life just might hold in store for me.

I thought of my dear friend Mayzie, and how she would understand the ache in my heart; she had sat with me so many years ago in a different world singing The Circle Game.

Tonight I was totally enveloped in the beauty that life has blessed me with. These are the things I may have dreamed of when I was small and hidden in that quiet valley of southern Vermont.

Until tonight I never realized how very far away I felt from the child that I was; I wasn't sure why...maybe because I held my own child in my arms.

Fast asleep.

In our own words.UPDATE

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This took way too long for me to update! Thank you for your patience...I am so very very pregnant and that state seems to be conducive only to napping and not blogging!

Here are the long awaited answers. I have to say, I think some of your guesses are funnier then the reality! (Michelle you have a naughty naughty mind...I love it!)

Cat Blocked (verb) - A personal favorite. The New Girl nailed it...trying to enjoy some love when you are so rudely interrupted in the most obnoxious of ways. You're cat blocked. Butt in face, loud purring...it makes it impossible to do anything but chuck said cat into a wall.

Ass Mice (verb) - Yes it is in fact a verb. Be careful what you say and how you say it in bars. That is how "Ask Nice" was warped into "Ass Mice?" which was then abused to the point where it is so far from its original meaning that you have a hard time remembering life without it. "I ass miced my way all over the store during the holiday sale but no one would help me"! etc etc

Masshole (noun) - I thought this was a gimme! Maybe it is just me living in New England and 10 miles away from the Massachusetts border? The New Girl and Mayzie were closest. A Masshole these days is just about anyone I am forced to come into contact with from Massachusetts. ...especially on the road. I am now convinced anyone driving too slow in the left hand lane learned to drive there, no matter what their license plate claims and no matter what state we happen to be in at the time! MOVE OVER! SAY PLEASE AND THANK YOU! Common decency people! It is not all about you!

Edwina (noun) - Total drug reference from my younger years and still in conversational use today. No matter when marijuana is brought up among my friends, it is referred to as Edwina. (Which is why The New Girl's guess at "a forgetful person" had me cracking up!) This comes from the Steve Martin movie All Of Me. There is a line "Edwina Back in Bowl..." anyways, you had to be there. That shit is hilarious when you are 17 and hanging out way too much with Edwina!

Back of a Volkswagen- Credit to Kevin Smith on this one. "Sex somewhere uncomfortable..." "What? Like the back of a Volkswagen?" This is now used at home for anything considered uncomfortable.

'Nick and Elaine'. - We ALL live near them and I sure hope no one out there is offended by what I am about to say. Nick and Elaine...you know the type. The non-politically correct way to say it is...First word starts with W_ _ _ _ and second with T_ _ _ _. They keep ALL their prized possessions (you know, like broken windows, flower pots, lawn mowers, empty boxes, ladders etc etc) scattered about their front lawns as "decor". They have fake flower arrangements set out in cinder blocks. They leave their holiday decorations (not just Christmas here folks...every freaking holiday) up all year round. They have 6 people living in the house and 14 cars. 9 of which don't work, 3 of those don't have tires and the remaining rattle your windows at 3 am when they leave for ummm "work". Yeah we all have them in our neighborhoods. I used to live next to them in fact. If all that crap in the yard is important enough to keep shouldn't it be in the house and not rotting away for us all to see???? This is a post in itself.

Did a Jane. - bahahaha ahhh the Jane. Ever wonder why Walmart smells like poop? A friends sister in law "farted" in WalMart. She then realized it was more then just fart. It was a little...how do I say...squashy. So now walking through any store if that smell drifts by someone must have done a Jane.
(The end of that story by the way...Jane went to the bathroom to clean herself up and was in the handicapped stall. A young child and mother came in. The child says "Ohh Mommy...that person pooo'd their pants!! The mother says "Shhhhh...she is handicapped!!". Which she is not; we wouldn't make fun of it if she were! Now the story kills me, however, what I find even more amazing is Jane actually told this to people!)

Bump it. - Off Road term (we are a Jeep family...Rock Crawlers, not Mall Crawlers). When Spouse and I started dating that term was used plenty in the off road park. "Just Bump It"....I thought it was perfect for anything that ever needed to be forced.

I hope that semi-entertained you guys. Thanks for playing along!!!! I loved it. Please look at the comments and check out what a "Whale's Mouth" is hahaha. Oh and I think a "Bagel Minute" is like a "NY Minute"

Now...If I could just Bump out the baby life will be swell.
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How many of us out there are crazy and have created our own languages? That's what The New Girl wanted to know! So I answered her and in return I am listing my own secret language and asking you dear readers to define it!

Although in all honesty mine are not nearly as good as hers...I mean I was peeing I was laughing so hard...really, go find out about the 'cat in the basement'.
I'm not going anywhere...go look and come back

Ok...As you have seen we seem to share a wee bit of brain The New Girl and I and we both use "Digger" and "If it were up your ass you'd know" on a regular basis. BUT there are so many more!
Have fun and take your best guesses!

Define:

Cat Blocked (verb)
Ass Mice (verb)
Masshole (noun)
Edwina (noun)

When and why would you use these?

Like in the back of a Volkswagen?
A 'Nick and Elaine'.
Did a Jane.
Bump it.

I'll post the answers in a few days!

'D' Day +1

Well...that seals it.

You are not like your father.

I have said all along that if you were you would have popped out 15 minutes early with a watch on.

You are late.

Which means...you could be like me.

You are in there procrastinating.
Enjoying the close dark comfort of sleeping late on a rainy morning kind of procrastinating. You know, the kind of morning where you really would not get out of bed unless something forced you to.


Like pitocin.


I am famous for it.
Are you still sleeping??
Yes, yes I am.
And it seems you are too...which is troubling on a few levels.

Where your father is even tempered and stead fast I am dramatic and fickle.

He has the ability to make up his mind on one thing and stick with it. I of course must spend an endless amount of time mulling it over...weighing my options....deciding on something, then half way through totally changing it; morphing it into something that wasn't even on the table in the first place. I will inevitably, when finished, start all over again just so I still have options.

I am impossible.
He is easy going and laid back.

He is a manager and a leader...I can not and will not be managed.

He was content to sit and play with his toys growing up, mechanically inclined he would dismantle them and reassemble them again. He loved his army men and kept them neatly packed in their bucket at the end of the day.

I exploded as a child and my toys were the shrapnel.
I still explode to this day.

What is it we can expect if you are anything like me?

If you are a girl we are very much in too deep already. My mother always wished a daughter on me that was..."just like me". I now realize with growing trepidation how seriously I should have taken that threat at the time..."So"...I sassed back..."she will have great hair".

Although, as impossibly stubborn as I can be, I am also impatient.

For something I know I really want...I rush in. For all the time I can take in making up my mind, when it is set I want immediate action and satisfaction. Just watch me.

My exit from the womb was 3 weeks early.

Yours however....

It's leading me back to the original question which has been nagging these long months.

My impatience growing from an even ebb and flow to a full blown flood.

Who exactly are you?