before beginning

Crowded room, melee of conversation
Fervent communication increasing with the minutes
Excitement, energy bouncing between strangers grouped within
Shifting bodies occupy uncomfortable seats
And then, a single call for silence
All activity ceased.

Awake end

In my dream there was only us two
You and I
No worries
No stress
Nothing but plush white bedding and soft luxurious pillows
We lay together
Hands, legs intertwined
Silent but for the deep breathing of contentment
The future but a promise of sunshine
The past already distant on the horizon
When I wake, the image disappears
Try as I may to close my eyes –
To will myself back into bliss –
I fail in conjuring our heaven.
Awakened to reality alone
Its scratchy blankets and cold sheets
Incessant pressures smother me.


‘As well for the coowe as for the bull’ - John Heywood

Bull out to pasture, collecting fill
Calves frolic lightly, suckling at will
Cow stands at ready, awaiting desire
Long hours repass motherhood thus transpires
He surveys his claim, proudly content
But little further exertions are expend’
She looks to the horizon forlornly
When calves grow, she may free
He is praised for little more
Than donating his gene, herd ensure-d
But she works endlessly without cease
No respite, less praised, no release

frozen: our eternal winter

March? Umm…Think you forgot something when you arrived.

The kids and I are pretty much done with snow, ice, and freezing rain. We’re thinking about visiting Punxsutawney Phil and pulling him out for a shadow searching redo. Six more weeks of winter? Plubbbbbbggghhhh! If that Pennsylvania critter does this again, he’s gonna disappear from this earth.

Yesterday we woke to a white roofed neighborhood. We watched as plows unsuccessfully tried to scrape up the ice covering our street. We heard the snow blowers working overtime on the sidewalks trying in vain to eliminate the sidewalk hinderances. There was no need to get up early. Schools called cancelation early.  We treated it as a day of rest, enjoying elongated naps with lazy luxury.

Today, our street was ready for ice skating. I elected not to risk breaking limbs and willed sunshine to melt our rink away.  By early evening I finally risked venturing outside, kids in tow. Rico found a lingering slick spot, clinging to the van door as his legs split and he flailed about. We dared to continue anyway, willing the van to grip the roads. Tuesday is Ikea kids free day and the kids have to eat, right?

Tomorrow we’re delayed two hours -long enough for the sun to rise and students to decide the day not worth coming. And yet? We’ll journey out with business as usual and hope for no more winter woes.

March? Get it together. Turn up!


It’s saturday. Ri lays beside me, her chest rising and falling as she faintly snores. Ya dances up the stair case whooping and gibbering at his toy of the moment, words indistinguishable from my room. Chi sits at the kitchen table guarding the cooling strawberry cupcakes she’s pressed to devour. Rico putses from kitchen to dinning room, occasionally pausing to inventory the cluttered counters and dish filled sink.

I’m supposed to be editing photos – or at least organizing the building number of shoots with closely looming deadlines.  I’m not eager to get to “work” and will probably work late into the evening for this procrastination.

The portfolios of the kids ‘ boutique bookings continues to build, though few pictures seem to make public appearances. I’ve long since stopped printing best photos from shoots and cataloging them in albums.

Inside mailbox two right now is another package. It’s hostage until the mail carrier returns on Monday so I can once again complain that that receptacle is eternally jammed.

The day rushed past me. The sun is already moving below the horizon, skies painted pink, purple, and orange amongst blue-grey clouds. I wonder why the time moves so quickly.

Ri discovered chapstick tastes good, sampling it in chunks from the new tube I picked up. Ya is skinned from an unfortunate mommy haircut (he never should have asked to go bald!). He keeps rubbing his scalp, though I suspect it’s because those newly exposed patches of dandruff are the reason. Rico is exploring his neither kid nor adult identity,  trying desperately to assert his non existent freedom of choice. And Chi, when not engrossed in Clash of Clans, is counting the minutes to her return to Oma and PopPop’s house.

This is what week’s end looks like these days.

To you, edition 5.5

Five years, five months.
My sweet kindergarten boy! Years from now you’ll hate that reference, but understand it’s nothing indicative of your machismo. Nope, you are all male, all the time.

King of the over talk, you are living up to your name’s meaning: warrior. Sometimes you’re so adamant about making your point – opinion – heard, that you don’t pause enough to listen to anyone else. It’s been hard to impress upon you the “rules of engagement” – that we value your thoughts and concerns, but must also guide you with our self-proclaimed parental wisdom. I want you to continue to process your world and how it works – - to contemplate ideas and develop ingenuity, but sometimes you’ve got to hold all that knowledge you’ve garnished and be silent. You can’t share every secret you hold.wpid-IMG_1490456453289.jpeg

I should apologize to you. Still a baby when I wed, you have felt far greater displacement than your siblings. You’ve done well in coping – - in finding a comfortable position in this new household structure. I watch you in awe as you volunteer yourself for big brother duties. Your watchful eye, your concern is evident. You’ve rescued her, protected her, and (most important) loved her.

wpid-IMG_79398207825588.jpegAnd my handsome son, I find it so special that you still crave a good cuddle. Sitting close and watching TV, or just claiming a seat nearest mine at dinner, you are devoted. And I know sometimes I’m moving too much, feeling overwhelmed by “must-dos” and deadlines. I’ve got to pause, relish in this bond-strengthening time we have left. The next few years will rush past and then you’ll have grown away from needing Mommy. I don’t want to miss a moment.

You’re not what one might consider an eager student – - at least not in traditional school. You are distracted, mobile, curious, verbally inquisitive. In exploratory learning – that which is hands on, outdoor, visually stimulating – you thrive. I hope beyond hopes you develop a tolerance for the classroom and eventually, crave the experience.

You are amazing. Always know that you are destined to be great. Even when they predict the worst, you will prove naysayers wrong.

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