Love Song

We are not a love song.

We are not the pillar of unity we pretend to be.

We are hours of silent pleading, drowned out by the static of the television set.

We are a wedding portrait being eaten alive by a sea of flames.

We are a house full of endless disasters and a sink perpetually overflowing with dishes.

We are a myriad of desperate hopes, piled high to the ceiling, never being fulfilled.

We are hours of invisible needs, consistently losing to the other’s screen.

We are hurt and angry.

We are never going to change

We are used to being last.

We will always be together.



We spent the day in quiet awe

Because of everything we saw

The Chore Fairy vs. Technology

What do you do when you feel overwhelmed

When your world is about to explode?

Just grab your device

Tell the kids to play nice

And go duck inside the commode

Avoiding the chores piling up all around you

Long term, won’t do you any favors

But you’ll be feeling sweet

With your butt on the seat

Telling off all your friends and your neighbors

The taps of your fingers, the scrolls of the screen

As your brain and eyes start to glaze over

Now you’ve been gone several hours

Sucked in with its’ powers

You’re a twenty-first century rover!

#MeToo in Afghanistan, a check in at the gym #ican

Why doesn’t your wife seem to care?

A couple posts of RIPs

Free garden pallets? Yes please!


The sun has now set, there’s no reason to fret

Somehow tasks magically seemed to get done!

But don’t be surprised

If the Chore Fairy’s eyes

Are glued shut when you’re ready for fun…

This is a poem I wrote while procrastinating and not doing the dishes in the picture above. My husband actually picked up a lot of slack this weekend; ideas expressed here are not about him (this time).


If the strongest among us are meant to survive

But the meek shall inherit the Earth

To the rest of us, it seems,

That counting our beans

Is our plight, whatever it’s worth.

The Third

A myriad of pain

I bequeath to others

Passed on to me with your last breath

A cemetery full of winter’s broken dreams

Cruelty and peace blending together seamlessly

Surrounded by icy softness


The worst part about coming home from vacation wasn’t leaving the land of sun kissed skin or saying goodbye to the sandy beaches of Siesta Key before I was able to photograph more beautiful, glistening seashells, wedged lazily between the waves of the Gulf and the sand. It was leaving the comfort of a condo being rented by my in-laws, forcing us to also keep it clean, and returning to… Yuck. Just yuck.

I physically wasn’t able to get into the backseat of our car because of the stuffed baby bag, plastic toy dinosaurs and general crap, and that was just leaving the airport.

When we arrived home a couple hours later we were disappointed to find that no cleaning fairies had broken into our house. Instead, the clutter we had left it in our hurried rush to escape the frozen tundra of our lives seemed to have multiplied over the course of a week. (Thank God they were clean) Dishes on the countertop. BB’s toys scattered everywhere. Bags of catnip, ripped and defiled, spread out over several rooms.

I’ve tried so many things over the years to cut the clutter and it always ends up coming back. I tried the different things I found on Pinterest. I’ve tried to purge. Recently I read a New York Times article about Marie Kondo, who seems to have a pretty popular following on how to declutter, and I’m going to try to borrow her book from the library eventually.

But for now, I just have this:

Clean linens and a bedspread, piled up in an uncomfortable and grotesque stalemate over laundry duty for the last 2 or 3 weeks; a bin of baby clothes I was supposed to put in the attic like 3 months ago plus other baby clothes that I had rewashed and I don’t remember why it was left out or what the hell I was doing with it(also the little boy I was putting clothes together for has now outgrown them); toilet paper and cleaning supplies that need to get put away; pictures that were taken down in November when we had furniture delivered, including a picture frame that broke; miscellaneous junk.

In typical fashion, it really bugged me on a night I was supposed to go to bed early:

Time to clean: 25 minutes. To be fair I mostly just put stuff away and threw stuff into the Hoard, but hey! It worked. If I can pick a corner to work on each night (or every other night, whatever), maybe my house will be clean by the time BB moves out.

If you have any suggestions or things that work for you please let me know, I’m all ears.

Loss 2 (1/26/18)

Long before the sun came up

My boots and coat were on;

Liquid caffeine in my cup

I grinned into the dawn.

I woke up carrying a baby this morning, and I was so, so happy.

My first prenatal appointment was exciting, even considering the snarky receptionist and bitchy Medical Assistant I dealt with at 7am. I was going to save all my time, which is why I had such an early appointment; I would be paid until almost Christmas if I my last day at work would be 10/1/18. We had already begun talking about names and Christmas cards and God parents. We discussed not getting our hopes up, but it was so easy not to follow our own advice.

I had all the right answers.

Not on any medicine, besides prenatal vitamins? No. No unusual pain or bleeding? Mild cramping for three days but no bleeding. Ok, good. Any changes or bleeding you want to go to call us or go the ER. Breasts getting sore? Yes, yesterday. That’s a good sign. Any upcoming travel? Yes, Sunday. Get up and walk every hour, it prevents blood clots. Look into a pair of compression stockings. Planning on breastfeeding? Yes.

Everything was fine until the exam. There’s some bleeding in your cervix. I don’t know why it’s there. She was the Midwife I had seen at my very last prenatal appointment, the visit that became just a regular visit. I had lost my baby twelve days before and wept openly; the pain was still very raw.

Three hours later it was gone.

RB comforted me as I sobbed in the sonogram room, cries probably echoing throughout the rest of the office; I was bleeding too much. The sonogram technician couldn’t even look at me when we were done; she called the Midwife because she didn’t know how or want to deal with us. She couldn’t find anything, the Midwife explained softly, after I advised her that no, we were not told what was going on. Theres nothing in your uterus, so there are two things that may have happened… Her words faded in and out, as if I became submerged under water. RB’s hand gripped my shoulder; he tried so hard to be so strong for me. I’m so, so sorry…

I got off the phone as quickly as possible without physically throwing it, with no intention of completing follow up blood work while on vacation. The technician asked if we wanted to leave the office out the back door, like our loss should be invisible. Like we should be tucked far away from all the other patients who sat patiently in the waiting room, who quietly and firmly believed that cruelty of this magnitude could never happen to them.

In three hours it was all gone. Like a cloud of smoke on a windy night, my dreams evaporated in the blink of an eye. I was reminded, for the second time in a year and a half, that I am deficient in the one thing we are biologically designed to do. And it hurts. And it is not fair. And the life that passed through me was very, very small, but it was so, so loved.


Star (Memories 1)

My darling, my baby, my love bug, my star

My fierce, brazen toddler; a sweetheart you are

You’ve started to kiss and give hugs unplanned (4/2017)

Just because, sometimes, you’ll grab onto our hands (3/2017)

You ROAR like a lion (1/2017) and TWEET like the birds (3/2017)

I’ve lost count now of all your words (week of 4/16/17)

Two months ago they were less than two dozen

You always say “HOT!” when we touch the oven

You boast, with conviction, all words within means

You scare deer and geese with your jubilant screams (3/2017)

It seems, every day, that you do something new

Pearly, round toes free without socks or shoes

You tear them off now with such a delight (week of 4/16/17)

If you’re ready, at bedtime, you tell us “night night” (4/2017)

Yesterday you spent your first day in the Toddlers’ Room

At daycare, and you were just over the moon (4/26/17)

You mimicked me spitting out toothpaste, too (4/26/17)

Toothbrush in your hand, with your bear who is blue

The things you’ll accomplish, the man you’ll become

How grateful I am that you are my son

I started this 9 months ago. It’s truly unbelievable how much he has changed since then! Every day is a blessing.

The Big Wait

I walked a half a mile to spend eleven dollars at a pharmacy, shielding my eyes from the sun. As I trudged back through melting sleet, the once frozen dirt embraced with the sidewalks who bore them as they warmed and spread over the city landscape like honey. A vagrant asked passerbys for a quarter to buy a cup of coffee despite the unseasonable warmth. I complied, praying for good karma as he smiled and thanked me.

Once I got back to work I strolled into the bathroom, trying hard not to run. One, two, three, four, five.

I waited two minutes, fingers tapping impatiently on the back of my phone. Disappointed I waited another two, just in case, my lunch break slowly being eaten away by an invisible ticking clock. I frowned, scowling at the lack of physical presence of it. I dug for the directions in my bag, elbow deep in receipts and junk until I found the box and quickly pulled it out, although I already knew I had done everything right. It’s not rocket science, I scolded myself. Shit, how many times have I done this already in the last year? Dozens, easily.

The unfolding of paper echoed off the bathroom ceiling and old tiles; it reverberated around the ancient stalls when the door opened and someone walked in. Click, click, click, click; her heels tapped past. Click, click, click, click, slam! I stopped all movement and my body turned to marble. My tired eyes read the map spread out in front of me, held by an unwavering grip; its’ directions and visuals became blurred pink nonsense. I looked down at the non-existent line and sighed. The toilet next to me flushed; click, click, click, click.

I know it’s here, buried deep within me. I can feel it and know that I’m different today. My heart is bigger, my will stronger.

I just need to see it soon, before my dreams melt away like the snow outside.

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