Slice of Life Tuesday: Stuff Changes

Today my brain is rambly-scrambly and tired. State testing, house woes (Et tu, water heater?), children running amuck... however!

Less than a week ago I found out I got the job I interviewed for -- Instructional Media Specialist! This means I'll split my time between managing two campus libraries and handling the technology needs in the computer lab, helping teachers integrate techie stuff into their classrooms, and even get to facilitate some professional development in the district! Woohoo! Very exciting news!

Of course, the flip side of this is saying goodbye to my classroom. This has made for some very weepy writing sessions with my young learners! I love the side by side time we share. This means I'm already thinking of ways to stay tuned in to the many students I'll be seeing next year at my two campuses. Peer-led writing center, anyone? School-wide NaNoWriMo club? Hmm... I know I'll find a way to keep writing with my new position. With any new adventure, it's as grand as I make it!

And I'm looking forward to a very grand adventure, my friends.

Slice of Life Tuesday: Everybody Wants a Robot Monkey

The dogs are on my very last nerve tonight, so I grumble at Daisy and say, "I wish you were a robot monkey instead of a dog!"

The Husband stops what he is doing, turns to looks at me and shakes his head.

"Who even says... WHERE did you even come up with... I mean, sometimes... the things you say. I just don't know."

"What?" I say, quick to defend my brilliance, "Robot monkeys are way better than dogs. If people could choose, everyone would want a robot monkey."

"Uh. Okay... but where did you even come up with that?"

"It's sort of obvious. You can train monkeys to do whatever you want, but robots have to live by the three rules of robot law. So they can't kill you when you sleep. Or throw poo at you. I mean, duh. It's definitely the best of both worlds."

He just keeps shaking his head.

Just another typical night at home.

Slice of Life Tuesday: The True Meaning of Success

Today was the first day of our state writing test, or STAAR. We've spent nearly 8 months together -- reading, writing, thinking, questioning, reflecting, and more.

They're stronger. More confident. Well-prepared.

They have created a solid craft as writers in the months we have shared.

I'm not worried. My stomach isn't twisted in knots.

This is a strange phenomenon.

By all accounts, I probably should be concerned.

Even though what they have learned is solid, it's possible they haven't grown enough to pass at the state standard. They came to me struggling to learn. They arrived such a short time ago, with low self esteems that often got in the way of their own success -- and this had to be tended to before we could do anything else.

So. We've grown by leaps and bounds. They are proud of their writing -- where once it was difficult to write a coherent sentence, now there are paragraphs of well-thought sentences.

I could not be more proud of them, each and every one. And results from this test won't shake that away.

#Slice2013 - Day 31 of 31

A month in reverse...

Easter celebrated with family,
A beautiful finished harlequin floor,
Lunch with friends and a reminder to make time for the happy moments,
A phone call that may just lead to a dream job,
Wrote side by side with eager learners,
Shared the power of "believe" with Dos,
Remembered the strength in helping people be their best,
Time with The Husband turning our house into a home,
Stepped out on faith and still trusting the process,
Asked questions of my learners instead of giving them the answers,
Said yes to a possibility that holds infinite rewards,
Found the strength to be honest about where my shame hides,
Enjoyed quiet moments at home with Dos and The Husband,
Thankful for Dos' quick recovery from the surgery that rattled my nerves,
Learned patience and dedication through our work in the house,
Beat my head against the wall over floors that didn't want to be transformed,
Laughed with friends over ridiculous Shakespearean insults,
Stretched my ability to grow comfortable with my soon-to-be 20 year old son,
Grabbed up my old writing self and refuse to let her go,
Connected with the reasons to hold fast to dreams,
Became an experienced floor grinding, concrete sanding, staining expert,
Searched my heart for the path I want to be on,
Reflected on my life as a writer,
Lived through an in-home dust storm,
Cherished my mom on her special day,
Lamented the pains of a boy that I miss every moment,
Sent out a passionate call to action for educators everywhere,
Battled it out with The Husband on the first round of floor tear down,
Finally (finally) chose the right shade of grey for the living room and took action,
Told the truth of my hermit crab mental life,
Made a promise to write without ceasing for thirty-one days.

All in all, I'd call March a success.

My heart is full, my life is energized, my family and friends are healthy.

And it only gets better from here. April is already promising to offer more everyday blessings.

I'm ready to get started. How about you?

#Slice2013 - Day 29 of 31

Today I went to lunch with some friends I rarely get to see. We spent a few hours on the patio of a local Mexican restaurant, gabbing and laughing and yes, even drinking a lunch time margarita.

It made me realize I do not kick back and enjoy time with all my friends often enough.

It made me remember there is power in conversations - in women gathered together to motivate, share, inspire, and even gripe. We all need these things.

It made me realize that all those women I know that have a commitment to themselves for some "me time" at least once a month are genius.

I have been crazy-busy these past few weeks: house stuffs, kid stuffs, new business stuffs ... but all good stuffs!

It's definitely time to add a purposeful day of girl-gabbing "me" time into the mix, on a much more permanent basis.

#Slice2013 - Day 28 of 31

Have I mentioned lately how much 2013 has been rawking my socks off?

I mean, let's get serious for a minute:

• Completion of savings budget? Check!
• New home? Check!
• House remodeling successes? Check!
• Possible career enhancing opportunity of ultimate rockstar happiness? Check!
• Dos' knee surgically repaired and healing beautifully? Check!
• Back on track and eating clean? Check! (YES! Finally! Yay! It feels sooooo good!)
• Writing daily, working on new ideas? Check!
• New fitness venture, enabling me to motivate myself and thousands of others -- while working with the inspirational fitness diva from The Sweaty Betties? Check!
• Ability to bring people along with me on this unbelievably fabulous fitness adventure? Check, check, and uber-check!

And there are other blessings as well -- too many to list, too many heart-happy moments, too many smiles, too much joy to keep all to myself.

Loving life, my friends. And there's still more to come!

#Slice2013 - Day 27 of 31

in·ev·i·ta·ble  

/inˈevitəbəl/

Adjective Certain to happen; unavoidable

"What are you doing today to make your dreams inevitable?"

I watched an inspirational video last night by Don Bodenbach, and this was my take away.

What a fantastic word. I think all the time about goals, and what it takes to "reach my goals." But there is something very different between reaching for something and making it inevitable.

So today, I focused on what I needed to do to make my goals unavoidable. Today I acted on that simple mantra.

Success is won moment by moment, and today? I was winning it.

And even better, when I am in the zone and focused on the positive, I'm creating a more successful environment for everyone around me: my family, my students, my amazing new fitness team.

So. What are you doing today to make your dreams inevitable? I want to know what works for you!

#Slice2013 - Day 26 of 31

Yes.

What an incredibly powerful word.

Recently, I was presented with an opportunity that my typical anti-risk sensors would have screamed no at. Please recall: me = panicked hermit crab skittering away from all things new!

Maybe it was the timing, maybe it was the presentation, maybe it is simply that I'm doing my best lately to ask myself what are the possibilities instead of what if I'm wrong.

All I know is that I'm excited. I'm hopeful. I'm believing that good things will happen.

I look around at success stories and I wonder, what is the real difference between their success and mediocrity?

It could be said that it's resilience. Perseverance. Dedication.

But honestly? I think it all boils down to belief.

Believing in oneself. Believing in opportunity. Believing that trying and failing is better than not trying at all.

The other day, Dos sent me a text message that made me realize the importance of walking the walk -- not just talking about believing, but making purposeful decisions that turn belief into action. I'm sharing it here.

And I'm hoping for you, no matter what your goals are, that you find the strength to take your belief in them, turn it toward yourself, and believe that you have everything you need to transform your belief into the actions that make your dreams come true.

#Slice2013 - Day 25 of 31

Up late.
Worked hard.
Cried - joy, not sorrow.
Learned much.
Laughed more.
Helped friends.
Sleep now.

#Slice2013 - Day 24 o 31

But what about the floor?

This floor is how I spent most of my day. Still unfinished, but nearly done. And I love it.

I love that after The Husband's original paper rendition didn't quite match the look I was hoping for didn't work out, I gave it a try myself. I love that I struggled through the math bits that I hate and figured out how to align everything the right way. I love that The Husband and I took my paper measurements and were able to work together to measure and layout the design on the floor. I even loved learning how to use a chalk line, even though it hurt my fingers! And I love that we put the lines on the floor together.

I've been painting in the dark blue diamonds with a sponge brush, and although it takes quite a bit of time, I truly enjoy it. Every outline is difficult, with me arched over the space I'm working on, arm braced against a knee or leg or floor, delicately following the sometimes barely-there chalk line, to make a perfect-as-I-can-manage straight line. But I feel so good about the work I have put into this floor.

The Littles run up to the doorway every once in a while and cheer me on. So also, I love how excited they are about the floor I'm creating for their room.

And all that frustrationangeraggravationdespair that made me regret ever having torn up the carpet in the first place?

Gone.

I love this floor, and the home that it is in, and my family that will soon, oh so soon, be moving in.

#Slice2013 - Day 23 of 31

Faith.

I'm practicing it in great, leaping bounds these days.

Faith that my children have enough sense in their sort-of-adult brains to build strong lives for themselves.

Faith that the path I'm on is headed in the best possible direction for my future.

Faith that the choices I make, moment by moment, will get me where I need to go.

These days I'm asking a lot less "What will happen if I don't..." and a lot more, "What are the possibilities if I do?"

Faith has climbed into my heart and started building a home.

I think I'll keep her.

I have a painting, a gift from my sweet mother-of-my-heart, with the quote: "Faith is a bird that sees the light when dawn is still dark."

So while I may not know the final destination, I have faith that I am getting there, step by tiny step.

And right now, that's good enough for me!

#Slice2013 - Day 22 of 31

Today I planned to roll the netbook cart into my classroom, collect several final drafts from my writers, and let them blog and interact on our Wonder Edmodo group.

Please note the word planned.

Today the netbook cart was already reserved by someone else. This rarely happens, so I've gotten in the habit of not reserving it.  Oops.

However.

Today I pulled the best examples of writing from our final drafts and, with permission, shared them with both classes. I asked my learners to listen carefully for what jumped out at them as examples of writing they thought worked well.

I read, they listened.

Then I asked, "So. What did you notice?"

They called out words, phrases, and structure points they liked. I wrote everything on my whiteboard. Then we categorized.

They noticed unique verbs, similes, metaphors, interesting introductions, truisms, organization styles, great descriptions, and specific details. They noticed the difference in writing that left the world of vague generalities to paint a specific picture purposefully crafted by the writer. They noticed that the writers included what was important, and nothing more. They noticed the writers wrote personal stories that mattered, and that these stories included some kind of struggle or conflict. They noticed emotions. They noticed everything (and more) that I hoped for. They are nine and ten years old. To me, this is astounding.

Then I asked them if they would like to revisit their drafts and look for places to revamp their writing.

I was not disappointed. They all wanted to look again.

So they did.

And one by one, I met with each of them.

I asked them, "So. What do you think your story is really all about?"

They told me their story -- not the written version, but the story from their heart. When they finished, I simply asked if they felt the story they told me was the story they wrote.

Often, they realized their writing had several details that took away from their purpose. Or that the story they really wanted to tell took up about one paragraph of rushed sentences, and the rest of their writing was extra information. I didn't tell them this. I just asked, "Does what you wrote match what you want your reader to experience? Does it tell the truth of the moment you are trying to explain?"

Once they decided what the answer was, we talked some more. They chose what to change, and off they went to make those changes.

I love asking questions and watching them think through what they want - to find their own answer. I love watching writers develop their craft. I love the fact that I get to talk with them and help them explore writing, and I don't need to give them anything, but an ear, a smile, and a few encouraging words.

Today didn't go as planned. But it went exactly as it needed to.

And that, dear readers, is an excellent thing, indeed.

#Slice2013 - Day 21 of 31

Today is a day filled with possibility. (And so is tomorrow, if I choose to focus on the positive.)

Today Dos took off his bandages and marveled at his "big swollen lump of a knee," and later marveled at the knee taking shape as the swelling went down. Tomorrow? Well, tomorrow he might go back to school, depending on how he feels.

Today I was back in class, writing alongside students. We talked about what was working and what was not. I asked the right questions, and they found their own answers. Tomorrow? Tomorrow we'll do a read around, celebrating the craft they've been developing all year.

Today I stepped out into an unknown area and said YES, even though I was nervous. I met some new friends. I spoke up when I wanted to shut down. Tomorrow? Tomorrow I'll meet more friends, I'll stick to my plans, I'll work on the dream of financial freedom. Because dreams without work don't equal success.

Today I choose time for myself and The Husband, instead of squeezing in a few extra hours working on the house. We laughed and lazed about and enjoyed a quiet house. Tomorrow? Tomorrow we'll be back in the house, Littles running about squealing and giggling about their new room.

Today was a very good day (not despite the grumpy-mumpy bits, but alongside them) and tomorrow holds an entire new set of happy possibilities.

And for all that, and so much more, I am thankful.

#Slice2013 - Day 20 of 31

I've found (often) that when I struggle to find something to write about, the truth is the problem doesn't really lie in finding a writing idea.

Most often, it's a problem of not wanting to write about the thing most pressing on my mind.

Take this month, for example. Nearly every day I've found myself at 10 or 11 at night, shouting, "Oh no, I haven't Sliced!" before dashing off to grab my laptop. (Procrastination, much?)

Even then, I sit poised at my screen (which, no kidding, glares angrily at me, as if even the laptop itself is saying, Girl, you ain't kiddin' no one!) with fingers hovering over the keys, trying to come up with something worthwhile to say.

It goes a little like this:

Write about how you're struggling to keep it together.
No, that's lame. Stop whining.
Write about how upset you are with yourself for not eating the healthy foods you know you should be eating.
Geez, you are such a broken record. Just start eating healthy and then you won't have to write about not eating healthy! Duh. Besides, how many times can you possibly write about struggling with food?
Okay, fine. Write about how you used to workout --and love working out-- all the time.
OMG WHY ARE WE STILL THINKING ABOUT THIS STUFF?? 
Um, okay, I guess I'll write a poem or about work or maybe a book I read, then...

I'm not making this stuff up, guys.

Almost. Every. Day. This. Month

And the truth is, I don't write about the food stuff and the workout stuff and the health stuff because I am ashamed.

I'm ashamed that five years ago I was in the best shape of my life, never let a morsel of fast food or soda or candy enter my mouth, worked out like a beast three to five days a week, and was HAPPY. I'm ashamed that I let the difficult times in my life become a food-fest and I stopped working out. I'm ashamed of how much weight I regained. I'm ashamed that last year I paid a trainer for six months to help me get back on track and I DID get back on track, but then I immediately fell back off again when I switched jobs last year and fell under the stress bus again. I'm ashamed of this cycle I keep going through because WOW how am I not smarter than this??

So for 21 days I've ignored what is most on my mind because I don't want to whine about it. After all, I caused the problem myself. But I feel sort of hopeless in this area right now, and each morning I wake up and tell myself I'm going to be better ... but then I don't.

So for 21 days I've wanted to say all these words that basically amount to: I'm ashamed.

And writing about it helps, because once I see the words I realize that it's the shame that is keeping me down. Shame likes to hide in the quiet space in our heads. The space we don't let people see. Shame is very comfortable moving into those spaces and taking up residence. And shame will stay a long time -- our whole lives, if we let it.

There is no room in a healthy life for shame. Shame is the thief of joy. And although I can think about the things I want and the things I believe, it isn't until I write them down and see those words that I can fully process what it all means.

Writing the truth is important, especially the big truths that we don't want to see. The ones we want to hide from. But that's where shame likes to hang out...

And shame is the thief of joy.

So for tonight, I'm celebrating truth and joy.

And for tomorrow, I'm practicing putting more joy in each of my moments, because that's where success lies. In the joy of every moment, practicing following the path I want to be on.

(I finally had the courage to write this because a friend on FaceBook shared this post on forgiveness at jonacuff.com)

#Slice2013 - Day 19 of 31

Dos rests on the couch, his bandaged leg propped up on two pillows borrowed from my bed. An ice pack slips from his knee, landing beside the small dog that has stood guard at his feet all day. But Dos is oblivious to this. He stares intently at the screen on his laptop, eyes flickering up and down, left to right. The ghost of a smile touches his mouth.

To my left, The Husband sits with another laptop. From the corner of my eye, I catch images as they slide across the screen. Unaware of my observation, he sighs and grunts as he scans through the pictures. He clicks, scrolls, clicks some more. Eyes roaming the screen, he whirls the laptop around to face Dos.

"How about this one?" The Husband asks.

Dos looks up, nodding.

"Yeah, but I'm not going to be working on that!" He laughs, and looks back down at his own screen. "But this is more like it," he laughs, turning the laptop to show The Husband.

The Husband nods, laughing along with Dos.

"Not gonna be able to haul anything with that, though," he adds as he resumes his hunt.

Dos shakes his head, launching into a passionate argument about the benefit of one body style over another.

This continues for thirty minutes, and then an hour, the two of them laughing and exchanging words and phrases about cars and trucks. Most of it I barely understand, but they are two men on a mission.

I am merely the silent scribe for the evening. Listening, smiling, and writing the minutes down to remember for another day.

#Slice2013 - Day 18 of 31

I should be sleeping, but
tonight is the night before
the morning of
Dos' surgery.

We talked on the phone, and
the boy is as restless as
his mother is sleepless, because
tonight is the night before
the morning of
Dos' surgery.

So while I wait for sleep,
my brain spins round, thinking
tonight is the night before
the morning of
Dos' surgery.

#Slice2013 - Day 17 of 31

You started with this:

I'm a completely move-in ready room!

But thought to yourselves, "Selves? Could this be better?"

And of course the answer was, "Heck yeah!"

So you got the right tools...

And did this:

With a little water, removing popcorn texture is super easy.

But was that enough? Heck no!
You needed more awesome for this room.
So you tore up the carpet and The Husband busted loose all the tack strip:

I think the curtains really make a difference at this point, don't you?

 Tearing up a room makes a mess, so you make sure to wear a fancy pink dust mask, as seen here:

I'm ready for house renovating and the end of the world. What now??

 It's important to wear your mask when you use the shopvac to get all the nasty dust, texture, and sanding residue off the floor. Notice even the curtains had to back out at this point. This procedure is not for the faint of heart. You will get dirty. You might cough and hack and think you're dying (but only if you're overly dramatic, which I am, so you can imagine what The Husband had to deal with!)

And don't forget to fill in all those dumb holes you made when you pulled up the carpet! Oddly, when your house was built, no one ever thought you'd actually want to remove the carpet or do anything like this. You'll need some Quickcrete and a 4" inch painter's blade to splat that stuff in there:

At this point, you're probably thinking you're done! Afterall, you've already been working on this room for over a week, and all the other blogs you've read did their room in a weekend...

Jokes on you! You are not done. Sanding and use of deadly chemicals did not remove all the paint and glue off your concrete, so your floor still looks like this:

This means it's time to break out the big guns, baby. Head to Home Depot and get a Diamond bladed concrete grinder. If you rent it after 6pm on a Friday night and return it at 9am the next morning, you only have to pay the 4 hour rental fee. Winning!

Once again, you'll be very happy you have those industrial dust masks!

When you finish slamming the concrete grinder off the walls and spinning around like a hummingbird, which will only take an hour or so, your floor will look like this:

Hi. I am the paint near the baseboards. I can outlive anything. I laugh at your floor project dreams! Ha!

Eventually you decide the paint around the baseboards will add a vintage look, and you move on.

Wash wash wash wash your floor, and vac vac vac vac vac it up. Then do it again. If you are heavy on the OCD, run a white glove over the surface and check for residue. Once you believe it's clean enough for people to eat off of, it's time to roll on the primer! We used all Behr products, because that's what the good folks at Home Depot sold us.

It's okay to weep with joy as you finally turn the corner and start the staining portion of your project!

Once the primer dries, you're ready to get that floor stained! The can of stain tells you to use a sprayer to apply the stain. So you do.

Note the sexy "booties" we wore to keep the floor clean. I am not joking about keeping this floor clean, you guys.

After spraying down the floor in your chosen stain color of "Coal Dust" or "Dusty Coal" or whatever crazy name Behr's uses for black, you walk away to let it dry. You walk away, even though your brain is thinking, "Um, that doesn't look exactly how I thought it would..."

Am I a floor, or a speckled egg?

Maybe I am hipster leopard print?

After the stain dries, you sit down on the floor and have a little pity party. This is not what you wanted. You decide to paint on the second coat, then use a "ragging off" method with some scrunched up cloths to fill in all those speckles...

You spend the day painting the floor, feeling like a home remodeling superstar.

In the end, however, you question your decision. Couldn't it be darker? Wouldn't that be better?

Yes, you decide. Yes, it would.

So you test out several spray patterns using water on the sidewalk. Your new neighbors may look at you strangely, wondering why you water the sidewalk and not the grass. Don't mind them. They obviously aren't remodeling superstars like you are. 

When you are confident of your new-found spraying prowess, you take a third spin on that floor.

Hallelujah bells! We have a winner!

Close-up for the new beauty queen.

And again, you wait for it to dry. Hopinghopinghoping it doesn't all somehow get sucked up into the concrete and turn into something different.

But all your hard work pays off.

You have a floor.

Which, to be honest, you had in the beginning of all this nonsense.

This floor is just more awesome.

Just the way you like things.

All I need is a couple coats of shiny sealer, and I'm good to go!

#Slice2013 - Day 16 of 31

Things you learn when redoing your floors:

1. You are much more OCD than you even realized.
2. It's okay to let the perfectionism go and live a little.
3. Hard work is more satisfying than you believed it could be.
4. There really is such a thing as a happy mistake.
5. Quiet time and focused work without any technology around is relaxing.
6. Teamwork is a must.
7. If you push through the overwhelming bits, you'll make it to the other side.
8. Standing back and admiring the finished product is heavenly.
9. Trust your gut.
10. It really does all turn out okay in the end.

#Slice2013 - Day 15 of 31

Today, we ramble (otherwise known as: today we procrastinate because the writing of my current work in progress is not exactly what one might call progress.)

It's the Ides of March! If you've been here a while, you'll recall that last year I explained how much I hearts the Ides. So I won't drag you through all that again. You can read it here, for those of you desiring extra me today. (Please look over the fact that I am definitely not throwing an Ides of March party this year, as predicted. But I am going to see a friend for dinner, so that's one step in the right direction, yes?)

Whilst celebrating the Ides on FaceBook, I came up with the idea that we should all be slinging out Shakespearean insults today. I mean, the Ides of March isn't exactly about sunshine and puppies, right?

So, for your viewing pleasure, some of the more interesting insults I found while perusing Ye Olde Internets:

Henry IV - Part 2You scullion! You rampallian! You fustilarian! I’ll tickle your catastrophe! (What does this even mean, Will??) 

Henry IV - Part 1Peace, ye fat guts! (I imagine this being said in the manner we use Peace! today, like Peace out, homes!) 

Thou art as fat as butter. (This one just seems uninspired. Maybe the speaker was feeling hungry?) 

As You Like ItYour brain is as dry as the remainder biscuit after voyage. (Ha! Please, oh please, give me a time to use this.)

There you have it. Henceforth, The Ides of March will be known as the day you can be rude and get away with it, because if it was good enough for Shakespeare, it's good enough for us!

In other news, I just had this conversation with The Husband:

Me: Do you know what today is!?

Him: Umm... the... March... 15th?

Me: Yes! And do you know what March 15th is?!

Him: Umm... it's... National Writing Day? Poetry Day??

Me: You just threw together a bunch of things you know I like! 

Him: (laughing) Well, was I right?

Me: No! It's the Ides of March!

Him: What's that?

Me: (walking off, completely destroyed) We're not even married anymore.

And now friends, you've seen my loves of things called Ides, insults, and how strange and wonderful my relationship with The Husband is. This seems like a good time for me to exit, stage right!

#Slice2013 - Day 14 of 31

I would like to say that I'm enjoying watching my kids grow up. But honestly, I can't pin down a word that wholly describes what it feels like to watch a child cross over from dependent to independent.

I mean, okay fine, I am proud of them. I love seeing them become more responsible. I love sharing in the joys of things like first jobs, first cars, graduating high school, first week of college. Those are good moments.

I enjoy the humor we share. I love trading music and funny videos, and love even more the quiet sharing in more serious moments. It even makes me a little giddy that these once-small boys both are as big or bigger than me. I am glad we are close enough that they come to me with big decisions. I'm happy to see them both trying to figure out the balance between school and work, between spending all their money on just "stuff" and saving for the future.

There is a certain something gratifying in watching a child come into his own.

But Uno is rounding the corner from uncertain adolescent to fully independent adult. And in that, I feel I am losing him a little. It's not a bad thing, exactly, it's the normal course of events. He's making his way, opening new doors, branching out. He has friends now that I've never met. Goes places I don't know about. Has new interests not shared with me.

He's doing exactly what he's supposed to do. He's figuring things out on his own.

But there's a quiet around the house now that I just don't know what to do with. It's reminiscent of when my sister got married. She had lived with me for so long that we had more of a mother/daughter relationship than a sisterly one. When she moved out, and when I saw her walk back down the aisle and out of the small lakeside chapel, hand in hand with the love of her life, I bawled like a baby.

I was so tenderly and powerfully happy for her. And a little brokenhearted at the same time.

She didn't really need me anymore, not like she had before.

I feel that way with Uno now.

My heart bursts simultaneously with joy and sorrow, anticipation of his future and worry for his safety.

He was so tiny when he was born; so fragile. And it feels a little like I have just released this tiny, fragile being out into the world and I want to yell, "Hey! World! Be kind! He's new to you, but I've had him all these long years, and I won't survive if you ruin him."