the edges of myself

words, words, words

I woke up around 2 in the morning on January 7, 2003 with anticipation and excitement at the prospect of finally meeting my first child. I was already twelve days past my “due date” and truly bursting with child. My body, carrying at least an extra fifty pounds, was behemoth. The skin of my torso …

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It’s day two of no tv and thus far no heads have exploded (that I’m aware of). Tonight instead of our usual Thursday night practice of watching American Ninja Warrior together after dinner– we all played a game together. (Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE that show– and the ritual of watching it together is …

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I never read the rules for mothering it seems I was absent that day– perhaps all of us were. Carrying around the textbook burden of guilt, the weight of which mocks our shortcomings and reveals the all-too constant truth that we’re just winging it.   Each new day, another brave face– scooping up the pieces …

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the sound of my boy’s laughter tumbling across the floors and ceilings through the hallway and under the door– the ease of three generations co-existing– quiet certainty of a love that has always been and will always be– from latency a hand on the belly– small kicks and a waiting game– breathless anticipation for the …

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I found this photograph a couple of days ago in a drawer by the side of my bed.  It’s my sweet little baby girl, about two months before her 2nd birthday.  (Right now she’s less than a month from her seventh birthday).  This photo was taken in Oakland, CA at my best friend’s home sometime …

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