watermelon watermelon

Even in her busy schedule filled with digging through my yarn stash, finger skateboarding, and hat-fashion-show to Coldplay on her Hello Kitty CD player, Ivy took time to style a photo shoot. Key prop being a watermelon and her dollhouse as the backdrop.

Life is undoubtedly good around here.

as seen on ivy...

dress by limeapple via zulily

hat -local/mama made

watermelon (with seeds!) - Aldi

linking up with small style

Tree hole

At the park we made up songs for swinging and for brushing off the dirt when she fell. We peered into a giant tree hole and when she was done she was done and it was time to go.

"Eyebrows are very complicated," she said. "Why do we have these eyebrows from Jesus?"

We were lying down on my bed for a nap. I promised paints afterward if she'd take a rest with me. She traced my face with her fingers and we closed our eyes and whisper counted our drift-off. On thirty, her hand, fist round like a paw, fell softly to my side.

It's About Time

Nothing seems to fit.

I'm in that in-between stage and can sense I'm about to get unstuck. But that means I am going to have to land somewhere new.

Years ago I had to search for people like me, really search- I found them in the basement of a church at a La Leche League meeting. I consumed their doctrine, the babywearing, the breastfeeding, their secret Mothering magazine that you either had to borrow back issues or subscribe to or hope to get one of two copies Barnes & Noble stocked every month.

She was nursing her baby in an unbleached muslin ring sling and I had found my way home. This was what I wanted. This was me. Where do I sign.

I didn't do all the babywearing and breastfeeding and non-vaccinating because I thought it made me a good or better mom. I did it because it drew me in and was where I belonged. It fit and it looked good on me.


Those days aren't over- they certainly provided the foundation of how I parent now - but I don't have any more babies and I'm not interested in keeping up with the latest pregnancy- or baby- anything. It's, like, torture. Even in the natural parenting and attachment parenting world. I am bored.


Ivy cuts off the tops of all her crayons with scissors and breaks them in two to make mommies and babies. And I let her. She climbs up the slide at the park the wrong way. And I really do not care. She had a Popsicle before breakfast today. I have a child going into middle school, we are getting ready for puberty and have IEPs and are going in all directions all the time. Where are my people? When I get to where I'm going I look and I don't see them.


I'm glad new moms have the Internet to locate their kind sooner than it took me. But online relationships - even the ones that feel like they couldn't be more your life - are different than the in-the-flesh basement meetings or messy living room coffee play dates. Sadly, though, even those aren't the same now because there's usually a phone to check, we look down at our hands. There's no going back, I know. We look down and I fear we'll no longer remember to look up at the stars.


I'm in-between because being plugged in kind of feels like home to me. But I don't like my neighbors. Or maybe it's just the scenery. Or both.


It's time to start looking again.




This is just write.