Watching Moneyball makes me remember why I love baseball.

My son and I are going to Yankee stadium. It’s happening.

run into my bedroom naked
and tell me to take you.

i feel like we’re on the verge
of doing crazy
wonderful things together. 

carriage rides through central
park. 

swimming in the ocean
on cold days.

sex sex and more sex in more
sex sex ways!

i keep thinking that
you will be here
on my birthday
and give me
a present no one’s
given me before. 

take my picture.

this is what we look like
wild.

- beau sia.  

part of me rejoices knowing i’ve helped boost this statistic. hurray for diversity. hurray for beautiful children, regardless of race. they all have smelly poop that clears a room, just the same. seriously. i don’t know what it is about squash that doesn’t agree with bubbie, but it’s like the gaza strip in here, everytime. just bombs. 

you know what? since i’ve deleted facebook, i’ve been reading the news every day, again. like, did you know this is an election year? huh. how ‘bout that. granted, i don’t know what favorite drinks my friends are currently enjoying, or whether that one girl finally got her boyfriend to stop calling his ex late at night, but i mean…i’m sure that’ll still be there in the fall. right now, i think i’m actually part of the world. it’s a really refreshing feeling. i suggest you try it. 

i’m going to the park with my son to swing and wrestle in the grass. 

Tomorrow will be my first Mother’s Day since becoming a mother. I have a new appreciation for my mother, for all the things she did selflessly, and for all the things she continues to do without hesitation or complaint. Who knew it’d take 7lbs 11oz of crying, goop covered, screaming flesh to make me feel…complete. That sounds trite. It really is. It’s just…he’s a part of me. Literally. A part of me. The good parts. The parts that are hard for me to see in myself, sometimes. He’s really given me much more than I’ve sacrificed, and I finally have someone to run crazy with. We read Gibran and Kipling, we laugh at the birds on the deck, and we talk about how we’re going to travel all over the world. And we will. I want to show him the world, I want to GIVE him the world, and I want to do it so badly, I have to sit on my hands to keep them from shaking.

It’s been the absolute roughest year of my goddamn life. But I’d do it one thousand times over again.

Thank you, Kaden. Thank you, mom.

maybe that’s fair. or at least,fair enough. if that’s how people sleep better at night, then so be it. it doesn’t change my reality. and in my reality, i know i’m a good person. i know i’m not an asshole. i’m not manipulative, i’m not sketchy, i’m not vindictive. i’m not plotting on someone, or trying to ruin lives. i’m not selfish. i swear, all of these things are true. does that mean i’m a great person? absolutely not. i’m flawed. i make a lot of mistakes, most of which i self-flaggellate profusely. you know that one incident when i was 18? when i broke a boy’s heart, and did it with the best intentions? i was an idiot then. but that single moment destroyed my ability to have any confidence for four years. i still wish i could take it all back. i don’t understand vendettas, i don’t understand having it out for me, i don’t understand a lot. i don’t understand failure, and nothing terrifies me more. or, at least, i thought nothing else would.