Walking

Walking as in walking away. I have or had a friend whom I am not so close with anymore. It happened in mere moments or so it seemed. I have always been mesmerized by being able, or not, to know when things change or end. I imagine doing things for the absolute last time. I imagine enjoying things because it is the last time. But, I cannot always know. Maybe is not possible to know. Or is it? Other people around us would say that we didn't seem like friends. We dismissed their comments. It was not true for us. But it is true now. Or, maybe it is just space. I have been craving space to do things by myself for myself. This is my most common complaint. In my confusion I often think that I am not getting enough time for myself. As if this is even possible. I know this lack of personal time is a common complaint of mothers. It is such a cliche. But it seems real to me, especially in a moment of frustration or a day of extreme tiredeness like today.

Saturday

It is Saturday already. And the weekend before Thanksgiving. We are going to Montana and I am so excited about it. I wish we could move there. I wish we would move there.
Today the children almost staggered their naps but they didn't The staggering lasted about 40 minutes. M. and Big H. went to sleep. Little H. and I tried to convinced each other that we (me) wanted to sleep and at the same we (little H.) wanted to go downstairs to play with the train. It didn't work (nap for me) or the train playing (for little H.). Don't get me wrong we went downstairs we started playing then, little H. was showing signs of frutration, throwing things, and I held him and he fell asleep in my arms. Sweet. Really sweet.
Now I can write for a little while. Of course, I feel that I need to read and at the same time it is nice to write. Just to write.
It is not winter here this afternoon. It is sunny and actually kind of warm. Such is the life. In the morning chilly and sweaters (sometimes a windbreaker) and in the afternoon a short sleeve shirt.
Ok, I am convinced now I am going to read.....and make myself a cup of coffee.

It smells like rain

It is a strange smell. Earthly smell. I like the rain. Of all of sudden it is cold. It is winter. In other places it snows. It used to snow here too but now it only snows rarely. I think it snowed here last year but I don't remember exactly.
These days always remind me of eating chicken soup (caldo). I am tired today. I need a nap.

Dog on Fleas

I thought I should write today about this wonderful group of musicians. Music is so vital in my life. I used to control the boom box (read bose radio) but ever since I realized "what is going to happen will" I put it on a low table for my children to manage. Little H. always finds his favorite CD. Most of the time is the Dog's Cranberry Sauce Flotilla others is one of the CDs from Kindermusik. And we all sing and dance. Music is....so rhytmic (brilliant ha?)....in the afternoons when I get home this is how we mark time passing. We listen to music.

Another reason for not keeping up with writing

I cannot remember (never, ever) my [yet another] email account and password. Seriously, how can we be expected to remember the many ids/passwords combinations that we are supposed to in order to do these things? Not very convenient. Not at all.

But, on the other hand, here I am actually writing...today. Little H.... Hmmm....I was going to say "he didn't sleep well" but how would I know? He seemed to have had a very good time waking up at 11 pm and not going back to sleep until after he watched 1 Harold, listen to very wonderful music from Sarah Swersey, kissed everyone for a long time, and ate two pieces of dove chocolate (which he washed down with Perrier). Actually, from the perspective of today he was having a wonderful time. I wasn't. The way of it. The way of it.

Tonight I will be better....or not? or, tonight it will be better? Maybe only because I am more tired? I wish I can always remember to look at things in the present from the perspective of the next day. That is my lesson.

What I do when I don't write in my own blog

I read other mothers' blogs Kate Hopper, Allison Winn Scotch (although less of her because I am intimidated), This Mom, and Dawn Friedman. I love the mother[ing] perspective that Kate, This Mom, and Dawn share in their blogs. For me it is not about writing but about sharing, really seeing what other mothers are doing regarding, very likely, the same issues that I deal with every day. It is so helpful, actually, to see what other women do with their children. Learning vicariously.