Highs: darcy crying because just laying in bed together is a heavenly moment, reading heart the lover whilst ovulating, sending Theo “wild geese” after a long day, sleeping in Keith’s very cozy sheets while he stood under blue skies in la, watching kiva dance so sassy, discussing igloo building with Remy and taking notes, taking the deepest bath, eating the best scone, doing yoga and wiggling, meeting fun friends who make sassy quilts, sleeping, just being a girly
I am so tired of feeling through it, I want to feel around and over and under— but not through. I want to lap up the good and slap away the bad. There are so many things to feel right now. Big picture is just too big, too on fire, too selfish too evil too much of a confirmation of how bad I thought it was. Little picture, me picture, doesn’t make as much sense as the evil. Feels less predictable, slower- like realizing and feeling in slow motion— healing through jello. Like, when I get time without my kids I feel like I am hurting them, because of society hating women and mothers, even though it sustains me. Even though I work harder at raising three kids than anyone else in their lives. And at 24 hours alone I feel the click of fight turning off, and then there’s a calm happy that holds hands with deep sadness. Time with my own self also means time to remember the sting, to remember it while standing in a snowstorm or a lights-out gymnasium or while laughing at a crude joke or playing house rules yaniv or drinking coffee out of handmade old and loved mugs or three minute planking or getting the first good sleep in a week or sitting down to eat not cereal with people I love, or shoveling until my back feels twitchy. What’s the point of all of this? Fuck ICE, fuck patriarchy, fuck the capitalistic hell hole that man has made that will keep us squished- AND I love the people in my life, I want to continue to heal, motherhood is hard, womanhood is hard, learning new tricks is hard, “maybe, maybe not” is hard, feeling the inability to follow your instinct is hard, patience is fucking hard. NEXT RIGHT THING AMIRITE.
existing can be really hard- thankful for a friend who gave me a bath, a facial, a haircut, told me I’m beautiful, told me to do more art, told me I deserve goodness.
Juno would NOT let me sing every word to every grease song and that really is a Christmas tragedy. Also Declan calling me out on saying that three different songs were my favorite song. Not a tragedy: the outfit I wore, Ulla being glam, Declan being a ham, Juno being one of the girls, a new movie tradition inspired by the obsession my grandfather and I had for Grease, moments or hours they all play together with a combo of critters, Barbies and bluey, crafting my way through Christmas and being so INTO it, cousins, double weird al tickets, total fucking mayhem 🎄🫂💘
Juno gave herself a little (big) trim that resulted in a very wild mullet that made her look like a 17th century boy who loves berries and cream and so now she has this little flippy bob that really shows off dem cheekz 💘 hmu if you want to come to my salon aka a children’s chair in my living room
