Tuesday, November 29, 2011

worst case scenario

Lola leans into me in bed, her blonde head shining in the T.V. light. Mom, can you cuddle me yet? I look at Ever, mouth still and open ovaled against my breast. I nod yes and slide Ever free with my pointer finger inside the corner of her lips. She sleeps with her arms above her head, mouth open, milk across the side of her face like time lines across the globe. Mr. Curry leans over us, warm masculine smell and bristling chin. He puts his hand down the cover, up under my shirt, cups my breast. We look at each other in silence. Lola turns over and sighs. Romantic, guys. Mr. Curry runs his fingers free and up out of the covers.  I was squeezing your mom's belly, he says in a silly, sing song voice, because I love it. Lola groans; I can see her smiling while she spins a catch of hair between her fingers. I rest my hands against Mr. Curry's back, feel the thick ropes of muscle run from his neck to his ass. His back makes me feel safe. He makes me feel safe. I think of Dakota, and Mr. Curry and I talking about him last night, I imagine Lola remembering us during these years sometime as an adult " My parents were always talking in private, in hushed, worried tones " I imagine her listening to us, ear against wall, like I did with my parents as a child. I wanted the details, the particulars, especially with the fights, until I was older, and suddenly I wanted to know nothing, to un-know.  I picture Dakota's face, his beautiful, intelligent eyes, and I am suddenly hit with an adrenaline sickness, a rush of fear, a free falling of thoughts and past and phrases from books and images from documentaries all falling together in a horrible tangle of leg and arm and I wish so badly, my arms actually ache, I wish..... I see Dakota's curly head at six years old, and his face now, and I feel that my arms, legs, my head are cold and prickling, my mouth is numb around the edges, my heart is skipping, a strange current of warmth is running through my arms.  Mr. Curry turns to me. Hey, what's wrong? I shrug, gesture toward Lola. He kisses me on the forehead. Everything I can do, I will, I tell myself. Everything I can. Let go. Let go. I breathe and repeat and search for whatever infinite or finite knowing I have kept inside of me. The fear ebbs from me into the large bed of my family and their beautiful spirits, and I am for that one moment, letting go.

'If you live in fear of the worst case scenario and then it actually happens, you've lived through it twice.' -Michael J Fox

things people will recommend you blog about

Why don't you put up that really weird 30 Rock clip?

Lots of pictures of me where I tell a story about me?

How awesome of a lover I am? ( Haghamm. Hmmm. Hm. )

Kevin Smith's new reality TV show Secret Stash? 

Why grandparents are the most important members of society?
Pictures of candy? ( ? )


Saturday, November 26, 2011

i thought about you all the way to Target ( so much better than thinking about my haircut )

and all the way back home

last night i cried and felt guilty about crying
because i don't have cancer ( that i know of ) and our kids are healthy and we are together
and so really, there isn't any excuse to be crying over hair.
i'm just so tired of people being shitty.
the lady who cut my hair? she was shitty. she talked ( read: lectured ) to me the entire time she cut my hair about how long hair really just doesn't work when you are a mom. she tried to get out of shampooing my hair. she got out of blowdrying it. and she cut, instead of the 2 inches I asked- and showed her with my fingers at her request- I'd say about 5 inches of my hair off. All the golden blonde at the end is gone. And then she charged me out the ass for what took her not 15 minutes to do. 
And I"m the idiot. I tipped her.

I kept thinking about her kids, and how she said she couldn't afford to visit them, and how she was probably angry at me for walking in beaming and happy with my baby and husband when she was divorced and alone during the holidays. I think she wanted to cut me down a size. So she cut me down about 5 inches.

it's just HAIR, Maggie. i know! but-but- my hair is the one thing I can depend on to make me feel pretty. i'm underslept and haggard looking, i don't have time for makeup right now, i don't have hardly any clothes that are cute and fit me, and my hair is the thing that I would use when I felt like a sloppy tired looking mess: Oh well! At least I love my hair! 

it's not a 'big' deal. it feels like one to me, because it's the one more thing.
i've had a few rough experiences lately with grumpy, unhappy people who don't know how to sit at the grown up table and talk politely when they disagree. i'm tired of raised, angry voices and sharp, dented faces.
sometimes the world feels so unfriendly and lonely.

thank God for you.


Friday, November 25, 2011



Thursday, November 24, 2011

a beautiful mind

by Matthew Kavan Brooks

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Lola, Ever & Mommy

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

I've Got A Crush On Demi Lavato and Selena Gomez

Because they've both made my Lola smile so big, so often.

Because they are living the dream.

Because Demi Lavato got help when she needed it, and then went public with her Bipolar diagnosis = COURAGE

Because they both can act and sing and work hard to earn what they have.

Because they are adorable!

Because Demi has said that Selena was the first friend to call her in the institution she went to for help, and one of her only celebrity friends to do so at all.

Because we love Demi's voice and Selena's show. Rock on girls!

Saturday, November 19, 2011

A Few Things Off My Back

1 When you speak to me, be sure to turn away and walk out of the room, or I won't know you are talking to me. My family has trained me. I no longer respond to directly facing, eye contacting communication. Also, please turn with an annoyed look on your face when I ask you to repeat what you were saying, because I couldn't  hear you, maybe because you were IN THE OTHER ROOM WITH YOUR BACK TO ME.

2. It doesn't matter if socks match during winter. Abandon caring, planning, trying, sorting, caring, because you won't find more than one pair of socks that match. Let go. You're wearing pants. Jeans! Let go. No one knows. Except for all of you people. And you're my people anyway, so you don't care either. Where are the socks? Why aren't they in the sock & underwear drawer? Who keeps socks there! That's so 2010! All socks are to directly report to the baby's crib.

3.  Stop arguing over the television. Lola, Ian, I'm talking to you. STOP. 

4. Mr. Curry, I appreciate that you were trying to feed our baby when she was hungry and fussing. If you could attempt next time to take off her brand new adorable jacket she was supposed to wear today on our trip to LA, that would be great. Even greater, don't hand the squirty  pouch of food to our nine year old daughter to feed our 11 month old daughter who promptly turned to our 11 month old daughter and said Here! and let her take it and feed. herself. 

5. OK that's it. The TV is off. Now no one gets to watch it! And, added bonus, I sound just like my mom! ( ps This is the real reason most people have like ten televisions. I'm on to you. )

6.  Ever, have you ever heard the phrase Don't Bit The Boob That Feeds You? No. No you haven't.

7. I never knew the keyboard was meant to be a drink holder! Thanks Ian and Lola! I can't believe how much better our computer works now that it has baby tangerine juice, Root Beer and some unidentified veal colored substance stuck between the keys! Who uses a capital z anyway!

8.  On that note, cribs are not meant for babies. Cribs are sold for babies, but meant for socks, old Halloween decorations, an empty oversized bag of chocolate covered pretzels, a giant rainbow colored Hello Kitty doll, teenage boy deodorant ( meant to seduce girls, assuming you can get them close enough to smell your armpits ) wooden blocks, one earring, Pet Shop toys and a really, really, really used nursing bra.

9. Sex is also so 2010, according to Lola and Ever. One whines, sulks and exhibits Freudian behaviors when Mr. Curry gets within a one foot radius of me, and the other wakes suddenly in a start, wild eyed with apparent shock and fear that mom and dad were going to TOUCH. O. M. G.
I'm convinced this is some kind of biological protective measure that children exhibit to prevent further competition in the family unit. 

10. If I'm relaxed for longer than one minute, something extremely loud and incredibly close will happen. On like donkey kong. So far I've only been relaxed longer than one minute twice, but both times, there were immediate consequences. Constant vigilance!

Lola you know how you keep repeating, in a high high voice like a balloon letting out air, that Ian or Dakota is doing this just to annoy me? I know just how you feel.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Bad Baby

 Just because you say Mama and it sounds like banana? Doesn't mean  you can do whatever you want...
 ...at least not all the time
 Ever don't eat that mum-mum off the floor! Oh well. Eat it.
 I hope you aren't going to....

 Dig the dirt out of the pot!
 Oh dear.
 You think you're hard. Just because we nicknamed you Biggie Pea.
 You know you aren't allowed to climb in the fridge Ever Elizabeth!
 Where is Ever? Ever!? Ever? ..............
 Oh THERE she is.
Mommy and Daddy won't let me!
Grandma and Dakota will let me!
The dogs will let me too.
( BTW I have your keys Grandma. Sorry! )

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Luke Lipscomb

Today Luke died. I didn't know him, I never met him, but my heart is breaking for the loss of his beautiful young life and for his parents. His parents. His parents. Our Dakota moved from Rancho Bernardo High to Poway High with Luke; they were casual friends but friends And today, Luke died. The day before today, he turned 17.

Dakota is 17. All of you parents know that without wanting it to be so, without meaning to, when a child dies who is the same age as one of your children, you feel it differently, a slight shift in the plunge of empathy and you are caught a little deeper off guard, a little closer to the vortex, the unimaginable vortex of losing a child.

17 year old boys are light, but light's movement- they are light moving through the world, they are at once energy's greatest release and the longest sleep of weekend days. 17 year old boys are arrogant, prideful and still the tenderhearted little boys of seven years ago. Seven years ago they were ten. 17 year old boys are brightness of mind and quickness of tongue at the same time they are stumble mouthed, they are beautiful youth, Adonis, they are working tendons and lean armpits filled with hair that still feels new, they are sexual charges and random bursts of rage, they are catapults for joy and creative forces. 17 year old boys are long striding runs through back alleys and jumps on skateboards through parking lots, 17 year old boys are climbing fences and driving cars. 17 year old boys are brilliant smiles and sweaty shirts and stink pit rooms and guzzling water and slamming heads to music and shouts, shouts, and 17 year old boys are the promise of tomorrow, they are just begun.

How can what just begun be ended?

I know it is not a new question. But it boggles my mind the same. How can a light so bright as the one from a young man's smile be extinguished forever because of one stupid night? However long I live, I don't expect to ever get used to the random nature of life and death. It is heartbreaking.

My son is sad tonight. I am sad tonight. Luke Lipscomb, I'm so sorry you lost your life sweet boy.
I am praying hard for you and your family now.


Monday, November 14, 2011

Etsy Christmas Gift Guide for Babies, Toddlers and Young Children

This is amazing! Vintage Japanese wooden block set.
Gracious May shoes are always on my favorites list
I ordered a wooden baby spoon for Ever from here a while back, and they make these teethers
These pillows are all adorable, from the mustached toast to this pink cassette player
I love this wooden puzzle set, which can be used in so many ways, including stacking in a pyramid
This is such a beautiful mobile
Waldorf toys, mushroom counting and sorting

This post is created simply for my own amusement and blog, I'm getting nothing from it but my own satisfaction! :)

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Stationery card

Retro Reindeer Christmas Card
View the entire collection of cards.

Friday, November 11, 2011


Suddenly it's been 11 months since I had this baby girl and I treasure every moment with her at the exact same time as I'm barely here, barely in this body, just floating around doing my job, dressing children, making dinner, cleaning, laughing, showering, whatever I'm doing has a vague sense of unreality about it. This is dissociation, by the books, and it's unpleasant and slightly terrifying, like hanging off the edge of the rope one minute longer, looking down, gauging if it really is safe to jump. This is the crux of daydreaming about sex with my husband. It's the only time I feel real. Here is a hand, on my ribs. Here is his mouth. Here is his breath. I look at him and I see simultaneously the face of my youth at nineteen, the face of adulthood, the face of my future in the glint of greying hair in his beard, along the hairline.

I feel incredibly blessed to have this line down the rabbit hole; to have this safety net, at the same time I know there is something dangerous about it, something unhealthy. When I was alone I found my own strengths cleaner, closer to the surface. It's harder to discipline myself when I can put my head against his chest and find the centre.

I am weak for months and months, years really, after the birth of a baby. I have never been able to do a momentous life transition without completely gutting myself, inside out, examined, shaken in the wind, refitted. I lose myself. Around the second year after, I begin to resurface. Everything stirring so deeply in my subconscious comes to the surface shining, clean, silver and blue sterling, strong as oxen steel, and it's like I was standing in the room surrounded by you all and dying of lack of air and suddenly my hand finds the window and slams it open and with a great gasp I am Breathing Again.

Meanwhile my husband has never been so strong, so sexy, so manly, so loving, so in his skin. The prime of his life has begun, and the strength of his arms as he swings our children or a piece of furniture is a mirror of the strength inside of him: the patience with Lola, the endless inventive intuitiveness with Ever, the sober steadiness with the boys. He is thick and healthy with manual labor, at ease with anyone he meets, the calm and assured look on his face and in his body language draws perfect strangers to strike up conversations with him. I stand next to him, ill at ease, nothing to say, sleep deprived and wonky, but safe, and knowing he will wait for me, to come back.

So much is unsure, so much is not the way we want it, so much is scary and yet so much is full, abundant. With Ever our family was completed, and that feeling is incredible, for Mr. Curry and myself, as we are both painfully aware of how precious and random it is to have this, how we did nothing to deserve or not deserve this, however here it is, what we wanted, and we are never unaware. Our family, the six of us- it is the undercurrent that carries our life.

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Remember Punky Brewster?

She's all grown up, with kids and a book and a website: and I'm a blogger there today!

Check me out at moonfrye

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

My Friend Carrie Brown

Carrie has been my friend since 2002 when I met here online at APU. I've talked about APU here before, and Carrie was one of the first girls I chatted with there. Over the years we've talked about everything from mental illness, birthing, parenting and tattoos. She's a single mom to Gabriel, and I had the pleasure of finally meeting her in person a few years ago when her and Gabriel came to SD and our home. We hung out, we barbecued, we finally hugged! Carrie and Gabriel had a close, simpatico connection that I recognized from my days of single parenting Dakota. Carrie is 41. And last week, Carrie was diagnosed with Stage 4 ovarian fucking cancer.

Tomorrow, Carrie goes into surgery for this beast. If it goes as well as it can go, she can start chemo in four weeks.
If you have a spare moment, can you please say a prayer for Carrie Brown's physical and spiritual strength and healing? Thank you.

ps What Carrie wants is for every woman to be familiar with the symptoms of onset ovarian cancer. If you are experiencing constant need to urinate, digestive problems and unexplained weight gain, please consider requesting a simple ultrasound. My ultrasound years ago led to the detection of a 6 cm. cyst on my left ovary, originally concerned to be ovarian cancer, and luckily for me, turned out to be endometrioma instead- still surgery required, but nothing life threatening. Carrie wasn't so lucky, but I know she has the gumption, energy and resources to beat this thing down. We love you Carrie <3

Lola's Lunches: Kid Lunches Bento Style

I wanted to make Lola's lunches easier on the environment this year, having massive guilt attacks every time I unsealed the millionth plastic bag to stuff in pretzels and gummy peanut butter celery. I found these lunch boxes here at goodbyn, and they've been great. Lola loves hers because it's cute and she got to decorate it with the stickers that come with purchase, and I love it because it makes making her lunches more fun AND is better for the Earth. Ever loves them because they are her sisters. Inside: Penguin shaped sandwich, tangelos, chocolate covered pretzels, almonds, carrots and flavored water

Monday, November 7, 2011

Downsizing: Green Lighted & Pinterest-ed

We decided that we are definitely moving. After a family meeting in which everyone was ( surprisingly ) positive about the idea, Mr. Curry and I began making small motions forward. We participated in a block yard sale and got rid of four pieces of furniture and other smaller odds and ends. Mr. Curry made plans with Grandpa Curry for a dump run next weekend, ridding the house and backyard of even more excess, and I'm going to have Lola go through all her clothing and toys soon- which we usually do before Christmas anyhow. There is no exact move date because saving for a downpayment and first month's rent is daunting.
We haven't decided firmly on two or three bedrooms, although deep down I can't see us doing two bedrooms right now. If it were just a little further down the road- the boys would be say, 19 and 17- then yes, but right now, probably not. If we moved in a two bedroom we'd be moving again within a year, and I don't feel up to that. We are definitely doing either a small house or a condo, not an apartment. I am gravitating toward a three bedroom condo. The idea of not being responsible at all for a house is really exciting after so many years of renting a house, I'd be thrilled to have a gym ( so would Dakota and Mr. Curry ) and the whole family would use a pool all summer long. Not having to do any upkeep on a home and yard is exactly the direction I want to move us in: more about living, traveling, being out in the world, experiencing things as a family, and less about fussing over a home. Much less space equals much less house to clean which equals way more free time. I get giddy thinking about it! Added benefits are having our water and trash paid for, saving us even more money. There are charming three bedroom condos five minutes from where we live now, with wood floors, and I keep imagining the Woody Allen stuffed with books kind of space I could put together.

I made a Pro and Con list and the Pros are fat and blessed, so it's an easy decision, despite the few lingering doubts or challenges. Finding a place with our dogs? Hard. Giving up our master bedroom, my favorite room I've ever had, painted the just right color of blue with our beautiful fluffy bed and armoire and TV and...? Hard. Giving up our neighborhood? Really hard. But giving up an Internet connection that goes OFF every fifteen minutes or half hour due to old, old lines under the house that our landlord won't replace? Easy. Giving up a huge yard that we cannot keep up with and is dead because our sprinklers don't work and our landlord didn't want to replace them? Easy. Giving up our water bill, trash bill and large house cleaning weekends? Easy.

I'm on Pinterest, ( like everyone else on there, obsessed ) and it's really nice to have a specific place to put all my ideas for our new home. I started a board called Downsized: Our New Home and all the images of small space living I find and love are placed there.

Friday, November 4, 2011

This Is Halloween!

I am totally and completely gobsmack in love with this here baby pig.
She's just as cute upside down

Every year in October Lola begins to have some generalized anxiety. Around Halloween it attaches itself to the thing of Halloween: the spooks, haunted houses, bloody faces, things that go boo in the dark. Every year we dutifully take her to her Boogie Bash as school, and every year she trembles and quakes and can't make herself enter the Haunted House. A few days later, Ever year on Hallows Eve, she cries and says she's not doing it. Not trick or treating. Not going! And every year we listen and nod as we help her into her costume, cajole and get stern, love and reassure. And every year she gets better at understanding anxiety as a creature outside of herself. Not who she is or what she thinks, just a thing that happens to her that she has to work with and around. And this year she did the best of all, marching happily and proudly around our extremely busy and decorated blocks, with people around fires in front of home and bright orange and purple lights and spooks and decor. It was awesome. I am so proud of my girl.

Here we are, getting ready to leave. Dakota is seventeen. Seventeen! Sob. Look at my beautiful boy.  I kiss his face just like he was still my baby. (he's still my baby. shhhh)

And with Ian's arrival, we were all together, as it should be. Grandma Mary comes every year and takes photos. Ian was so terribly sweet with his sisters. He held Ever for a few houses, and gave Lola a truly enthusiastic hug. Dakota too. It's the most deeply satisfying feeling I know, to see my children happy together.

The candy! Oh the Princess and the Pig were so happy

( the pig had no candy, sadly. she had nursies that probably tasted like candy, though! )

Even the dogs like candy. Bodie came over to lick some chocolate. Lola, Ever and I headed into bed to watch Dancing With the Stars Halloween style and Mr. Curry finished the recorded football game with our very frustrating Chargers. Yay Halloween!

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