Peace and Panda Feet

I found something very valuable, maybe even priceless while I was in Michigan last month. I had lost it by the time I arrived at Logan airport, dizzied by the wicked whir of Boston, stifled by the summer smog. But I've been looking for it still. Around my house, in sunny patches of warmth on our patio.

You see, I really felt the peace of God when I was in Michigan. I can remember when I felt that feeling. I was upstairs sitting in my husband's boyhood bedroom and holding a sleeping wee one. And I really felt God touching my heart and giving me such peace and contentment.

Of course I lost that feeling. And I didn't lose it between the cushions of the couch, no, I can't just Swiffer out the dust bunnies under the bed and lo, "Oh, there you are God! I was looking all o--"

This morning I was stricken with a pain in my right hip, pain that has been chronic since my pregnancy. I got up just before dawn and did some yoga. And then just moments before the wee one cockadoodled, I paused and prayed on the rainbow rug, and I felt that presence of God once more. I was reminded, there, surrounded by Fisher Price-a-palooza, that God was there, in the midst of my responsibilities caked in rice cereal. I just wasn't listening for Him hard enough, the din of my distress had been so deafening.

Incline thine ear, and hear the words of the wise, And apply thy heart unto my knowledge. - Prov. 22: 17

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Oh, look what else I found...

Please don't feed the pandas.

Try not to crush them either....

Rescue Me

Dear Baby Girl, Do you see the strange hefty frisbee-like object in the corner, there on the floor in the first picture below? It is a cleaning device. Some call it the Roomba. Daddy and I call it Alphonso. We are fond of Alphonso, though you demonstrated to us this week that you are not so fond of Alphonso. You stared at it with curiosity as it roved along, orbiting while it cleaned. When I placed you on the floor so that you could get a closer look, your arms flapped rapidly and you let out a shriek I had never heard you utter.

You were terrified.

Imagine my own terror, though, in realizing that this would be one of the very few times when I could swiftly rescue you from one of the many things in this life that suck.

Love, Mama

Dum Dum Didday

The other day I passed a book shop with big posters in its windows. Each poster had a big word on it advertising what I presume was sold within the book shop. The posters read, "PAPERBACKS." "SCONES." "MAGAZINES." "VIETNAMESE." I wondered what kind of shelving units they had, and how they were organized such that the Vietnamese section was just as prominent as the Paperbacks section. Was the Vietnamese rack right next to the Magazine rack? Upon closer inspection, the sign read "VIETNAMESE Spring Rolls."*** Every night that Lovey Loverpants and I are in bed reading before lights out, the age-old struggle ensues. Who will leave the warm cookie dough comfort of the bed to make the epic trek of three steps across the wooden floor to turn off the light? Lovey always makes the same clapping motion in the direction of the light. As a nod to the '80s stocking stuffer adverts for The Clapper. But we don't have The Clapper. But he claps as though we do.

It

Gets

Funnier

Every

Time.

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Baby Girl is big into exercising the bounds of her voice, as I've mentioned. Her favorite vocal exercise is to shout MAMAMAMAMAM, and since it's sort of my name and since she does it on repeat while looking right at my face without really wanting me to respond, it sort of becomes one of those Chris Farley routines where he keeps asking Paul McCartney, "Remember when you were in The Beatles?!"

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This is one of my favorite Fresh Prince moments ever.