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I love me some Friday night tired.  It's the content warm tingling of an exhausted body, having completed a full week of work, child rearing, good wifing and healthy "ish" living.  As with all good Friday nights, I'm still stuck in my work clothes because I've spent the night not worrying about schedules and routines, instead indulging each family member with time.  Time to recap the week, catch up on the drama, plan the weekend.  I don't cook on Friday's, we grab and sit in shifts, so that each person gets their own time with each parent.  Some of us eat, while the other's play cards.  Some play cards while one of us gives Liam a bath.  Fridays are a free for all love fest with no rules about what you eat, when you eat it or where.

On a weeknight, I enforce a fairly rigid schedule of chores, homework, dinner time and bedtime.  There is always a smattering of dance parties and orange soda happy hours because all work and no play makes momma freak out a little. But every night at the exact same time the kids heads hit the pillow...I turn into a pumpkin.

A couch pumpkin.

But on Fridays, I'm in it until the end baby.  Did you know that "the end" of a Friday night is 11pm?  True story.  For me it is anyway and if I make it that long, I fee kind of like a rock star.  Sometimes I worry I'm making my kids super lame.  My 15 year old daughter just woke up from a half hour nap on the floor to tell me she is going to bed.  15 and turning in at 10pm on a Friday night.  Does that mean I'm doing a good job?  Or a terrible job?

2.6.12

I cannot prove this, but I know Liam lays in his toddler bed, waiting to hear the sound of my ass hitting the pleather of my office chair.  Waiting for the sound of fingers being gingerly placed on the keyboard and for the deep cleansing breathe his momma takes at the end of the day, when she thinks she has some time to her self to write, or edit photos, or blog stalk.  Or maybe have a good laugh at Damn You Auto Correct.  Or a good cry in front her her computer so that she can blame it on something there, but really just cuz she needs a good cry.

He waits and when he hears any combination of these things, he gets sick.  BAM.  And stays sick for days, irritable & adorably pathetic, needy and cuddly, demanding and helpless against his booger nose.  And this guarantees my undivided attention day and night, I'm locked in.

This phenomenon is the reason I cannot piece together a blog more than once a week if that.  I have dozens of one paragraph blogs, all begun in a sincere moment of inspiration to write, to share something, interrupted by the crocodile tears of a my little prince.

His little voice breaks me down to the very core.  When he looks at me and uses his new big boy words he gazes into my eyes.  He is like his dad that way, always flirting, always looking into you, never just at you.

"Momma sleepa Liam?"
"Come on momma...follow me follow me!"
"One more book?"

And when I give in and climb into his narrow twin bed with him, suffering the panda pillow pet as my only option, he touches my face and confirms "Momma sleepa Liam?"

"Yes baby, momma will sleep with Liam."

He touches my face, tracing my eyes and nose, whispering what he knows "eyes...nose...cheeks...boca".  Almost without exception, he puts me to sleep with his face tickles.

And this is why my blogs are so few and far between these days.  I thought you should know.

::

I have never felt like I had to go out looking for inspiration for my writing or photography.  I don't do either as a source of income, just for creative therapy which allows me a lot of room to move in.  I'm accountable to no one and if suddenly no one read this blog, I'd still write it.

With that big a playground to play in, virtually no rules about how and why I do this, it's easy to do.  Inspiration is automatic, just write what I want.

But you should never ignore inspiration when it kisses you right on the mouth.  That would be rude.

I was gifted inspiration once before and it about sent me into orbit.  I've been gifted inspiration again.

I love this book, this journal.  I want to carry it around with me at all times and live the life that I imagine as I fill in the blanks.  So I have been.

I'm going to tackle each unfinished answer here as well.  One by one, on no particular timeline with no particular agenda.

I'm feeling like stretching myself, exploring and learning something new about myself.  I'm feeling like growing and moving towards something.

::

I made the cake.  I'm making a lot of cakes lately because of a cake plate we found at a thrift store.  It's perfect and begs for a cake.  See...inspiration.

I did not make the lovely pot holder, but I want it.

I did drink the wine and the beer.

There is that Superman t-shirt again.  Heaven help us when he outgrows it.

We got snow!  It was short lived, but it allowed Liam the chance to wear his new snow pants and boots.  Wouldn't you know it, the first year I've EVER had my poop in a group enough to have everyone geared up for winter before it starts, and it doesn't start.  Unbelievable.

But for one day, I had some snow babies.

I needed there to be some kind of cold snap, some kind of warm cozy snowed in day.  I was pouty about the non winter winter.  I guess this will have to do.  At least I got pictures.  And now spring can come.

::

We've given the girls a choice:

Quinceanera

Sweet 16

Autumn chose Quinceanera - (lit. meaning One (f.) who is fifteen), sometimes called "Fiesta de quince años", "Fiesta de Quinceañera", "Quince años" or simply "quince", is the celebration of a girl's fifteenth birthday in parts of Latin America and elsewhere in communities of people from Latin America. This birthday is celebrated differently from any other birthday, as it marks the transition from childhoodto young womanhood.^[1] The celebration, however, varies significantly across countries, with celebrations in some countries taking on, for example, more religious overtones than in others.

Good thing they can vary because her's is a Japanese flavored quinceanera lacking entirely in religious overtones.

I am so very excited for this party.  It's all her, I'm just here to make sure it all comes together for her.  It's Japanese food and language,  anime and cosplay and of course...the Anime Detour. It's a weekend party in Minneapolis, it could be no other place with no other people.

The invitations are done, complete with origami crane gift from the birthday girl herself.

I am so very excited for this party.

Back to the book...or rather the journal.  Feel free to play along, it's simple. Just finish the unfinished.

Chapter 1 - A Handmade Life (identity)

My body is holding onto...

baby fat

mystery pain

youth

the dance

the urge to go...somewhere

it's early morning internal alarm

the force

power

junk food

the rhythm

fatigue

 a more comfortable version of itself

Ahhhh a completed post.  Feels good:)  XOXOXOXOXOXO