i know what i know.
and let me tell you that’s not a hell of a lot.
i sat down to write here tonight because i really wanted to, i wanted to connect with this space and my words and who ever you might be.
and nothing came out except a storm full of complaints and desperation to be put of of my misery. something along the lines of how being a mother of two still felt really sexy, new, exciting and how being a mother of three feels like the green slimy shit i squeezed out of the kids bath toys last night. you know, one of those kind of days where if you asked me if i was happy i would very simply tell you no.
and so i sat there with some words i wrote down and i looked them in their i’s and o’s and u’s and asked if they were my truth, where they the shape of myself, my life and my kids. was the sarcasm and witty delivery and the two paragraph description of my feet resembling an old homeless man’s who i am now or then or ever? i don’t know. i hope not. i hit delete. and instead this is what i know and what i like. it’s what they like and what they know.
” />
she likes to waddle outside and pee.
” />
she likes to eat clovers fresh from the land.
” />
she likes to hang out down by the water and write her name with her toes in the sand.
” />
she likes to daydream about a land far, far away where little children sleep in until 9.
” />
she likes to gather stones.
” />
and then eat them.
” />
she likes to hang out with horses, talk to them and whisper secrets in their ears.
” />
she likes to take photos of herself inside mirrors, checking to see if her baby belly has went down at all and to examine the color of her hair.
” />
she also likes to chomp on oatstraw. [he just loves them, loves them so much].
” />
she likes to make my heart skip a beat.
” />
she likes to climb apple trees [he like to help her]
” />
she’s learning to just be with what she sees.
