Karma. Please.

Whew.

Yesterday found me wanting to rescind my parenthood membership.
Unsubscribe.
Retire.
Fold.

Pack it in. Skip town.
Hop on the bus Gus.

Not fun.
At all.

Little did I know that yesterday morning's discussion with daughter-formerly-known-as-lily (and no, today she gets no caps) regarding whether or not Santa Claus uses mouthwash would be the loveliest, kindest, most thoughtful exchange of the day.

Would have savored it more.

Instead, a birthday party that began with calming focused yoga but topped with an icing loaded cupcake was the precursor to a very unpleasant afternoon.
In my shell-shocked recollection, the decline began with a discussion over afternoon scootering and it just
plummeted
from
there.

My exhausted threenager, a term someone generously shared with me recently, became an ornery, out of control dervish and I thought I would loose my mind.
I may have.

Admission,I did.

I'd like to rent a parent.
Just for a week.
Not a day, a week.
For consistency.
Someone to back me up. Massage my shoulders. Say go get some air.
You're Mother's Right.

They might also say:
You look fucking awesome today.
or
I like you. (Thank you Laura)
But those would be optional.

What
Is
That
Like?

The co-parenting thing.
Support from a room-mate.
In house counsel.

Even if it's not all it's cracked up to be, it's got to be good sometimes.

Sweet Relief.

And now I must snap out of IT, recharge, reboot, buck up, buckle up and jump back in.
Block out the bad, focus on the good.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Repeat.

Focus on The Good.
It's there, I know it.
Just not feelin' it
today

Dawn.

A new year has begun.

The other morning Lily climbed into bed a bit too early.
I felt her settle but she lay
silently awake.

Mama?

Silence.
Praying for sleep.

You were really really sad when Daddy died but then you went to the doctor to get me and then you weren't sad anymore, right Mama?

My eyes opened into morning night.
Heart grateful and relieved I hadn't quieted her when I'd heard her inhale, her thoughts floating, words perched,
lips ready to part.

That's right Pumpkin.
I was very very sad, but I was so so happy to know that you were on the way, and so so very happy when I had you.

Quiet.

We drifted.

Another year, and we're off.

A soft launch, with our winter trip to California still fresh in our minds.
I'm holding on to the ocean cool,
the far away sun with its gentle-sweet reach,
the air that awakens as you move through it,
breathe it in.

So much that is old is new, again.

Lily has a growing friendship with the girl next door.
And that girl's mom was my friend next door,
Many
Moons
Ago.
They're following in our footprints, filling in with their own shadows,
the same routine -
knocking on front doors,
riding the same sidewalks,
beneath the same trees.

California always lifts me up.

I had my mom, Lily had her Jiji.
An uncle,cousins, an aunt, friends and kids all
swooped
in.
For love and meals and play.
For music and a mountain.
It will always be home.

We made it to my favorite place.
Lily's first visit to the ridge beneath Mt. Tam.
Henry and Jakie in tow.
Firsts for all, they trudged through tall, wet grass,
dragged branches,
discovered burrowed holes,
delighted in the vastness of their surroundings -
Kings and Queen of mountains.

Just as I had at the very same age.

I remember a picnic there, on a cool gray day, spying bedded down grass where deer had slept, animal remnants, feeling the freedom of never-ending play space with only trees to herd us into view.

A beautiful reprise, but now with our children.
Thankfully, some things never change.

I told Lily to take a deep breath.

Listen, I said
To what mama?
The quiet.
What is it mama?
It's nothing, just silence - only nature sounds Lily, just nature.
We both inhaled a la Harold and Maude.
Took it all in.

Felt
So
Good.

And the city girl who often yearns for her home
didn't
want
to leave.

Smile.