.326 day 293

a much needed day (more like 3 1/2 hours, but who's counting?) to myself and i did absolutely nothing. 

lies. i sort of did nothing. before i could actually begin said nothingness, i had to clean. ocd me needs extreme order and cleanliness for there to be peace (i swear, i can feel it in my dreams if an unwashed dish is left out in the kitchen). and, while my home never looks dirty, an extra spray of cleanser and a good ol' fashion mopping never hurt anybody (or hardwood floor, or marble counter-top). so, i got to work on my day of non-work until all the floors shined, each window gleamed and every unoccupied space glimmered with clean. and then (and only then) could i actually...relax. i cut my ringer off, drew my curtains closed and commenced to the sheer happiness that nothingness can bring.

ingredients

cool, clean air

healthy food

water

raspberry lemonade

red nail polish

uk versison of shameless on 'netflix'

notebook 

nighties

  

.308 day 278

.266 day 239

a typical work day for me...is not typical at all.

in fact, how i enter it, greatly determines how i maneuver within it. today...felt somber. a groggy, medicine induced hangover greeted me upon awakening, due to the forgotten, so taken later than usual, nightly dose of "peace" that controls residuals from my brain aneurysm. i did my best to focus on the task at hand, working on new website, with eyes squinting from the monitor's light and brain softly throbbing from toots' early morning, excited to be alive, high dose of energy.

i moved methodically. responded to emails and text messages on auto-pilot and stopped every few moments to play or sing or color with toots. this balance we have, of career life and mommy life, is a continued work in progress. no matter what the weight of my load, there are a few things that i make mandatory:

• eating our meals together, in her playroom, on her turf, surrounded by her toys and her energy (there are times when we're mostly in my room while i work, so this is a necessary balance) void of cell phones or laptops or anything that distracts us from our 'now'.

• playing at least one full active game of anything she desires. some days, it's horse-back riding, on others we cycle: her on her motorbike, and i, following, scrunched up on her tiny 'radio flyer' tricycle (given to her by my favorite uncle). and then, there are days where we just bug out and scream and run and flip and jump and fall until we're both spent from it all.

• reading at least one book together. typically, three times in a row...cause toddlers (at least mines) seem to love repetition. her present favorite is "silly cat" (i loathe this stupidly written, badly illustrated book) which we now have a record of reading eleven times in a row (i feel like she knows that i hate it and is purposefully torturing me. don't trust anyone under 3 feet).

•  allowing her to help me with at least one task. putting clothes in dryer, stirring pancake mix, or even something like, helping me set up my product shots.

today, after our mandatory "bonding" time experience and some futile attempt at completing aforementioned task, i simply gave up. 

my tiny assistant became cranky with fading pen ink, on tiny paper, which she held with tiny hands, as she pretended to write down fictitious notes that i read to her out loud. and i, too, harbored a bit of inner irritation as my own pint-sized patience began to wear thin. after putting her down for a nap, i picked up the latest copy of 'psychology today' that my older brother, supreme, left for me and read a beyond intriguing article about the brilliantly, beautiful minds of sociopaths. made me some peppermint tea, kicked off my fuzzy slippers and resumed my weekly marathon viewing of "dexter", as there's nothing more relaxing than watching people get murdered by a self-narrating genius. 

this is the same piece of chaotic artwork toots put on my window a few posts back. 

since then, we've both added to it. 

so much so, unless the window is raised, the outside world is completely colored over.

.247 day 222

i have a migraine. 

with migraines, come nausea. with nausea comes tea. peppermint. dripping with honey and shimmers of hope. 

me, too tired, brain throbbing and uncomfortably queasy to stand and wait for the water to boil. 

saw camera on dining room table en route to the kitchen, grabbed it, flicked on the electric tea pot 

(they're much cleaner than iron)

and slid, back to wall, down to the floor...

.210 day 186

toots is still sick. if she isn't vomiting, she's pooping. if she isn't pooping, she's sleeping. and if she isn't sleeping, then she's curled inside my lap, tiny hand in shirt, holding on to my nipples for comfort (residuals from breast-feeding, perhaps?).

lying on her stomach, breathing softly, peacefully, i massage the aches and pains out of her neck, back and legs. when i'm done, she stretches, yawns and smiles faintly. "thank you, mommy", she whimpered. "you're so welcome, baby", i replied, kissing her forehead, the tip of her nose and chubby little cheeks as i do. i inhale. she still smells like baby and bliss. nestling further under my chin, she points to my fingernails while holding out her own. "paint"? i chuckle. she doesn't have her ears pierced, but i have softened in regards to letting her wear polish (light, one coat, so it doesn't last long).

in these moments, i find myself excited for a future filled with spa visits and dresses and picnics and travel and a life ripe with art and cultural experience with a tootie by my side...or even...on my shoulders...

.135 day 118

it's a borderline sick obsession, me with nail polish. if you want to check my emotions, check my nails. calm and simple me = clean, trimmed, and clear polished nails. jovial me, boasts colors and dots and patterns and prints. dark me wears black. girly me craves pale pinks and purples and pure white paints. but when i'm feeling every bit of woman'ness,  and beneath my skin starts boiling, bright red is all i can bare (it's been over a month now). in fact, the only time (and it's rare when i do) i am completely unreadable, is when my nails are fully bare. no polish, no trim. no anything (when my friend, laé, left, i went bare, so sick with emotion of her departure, i was). 

but...now...i'm back...to my red nails. 

and they feel so good...sometimes i just sit and trail them across my own skin just to see them in motion.......

.094 day 79

she was the first person i ever blew doja with. fourteen years old. perched at the height of a barren, chilly sliding board in an abandoned playground, she taught me the proper inhale/exhale protocol. she was a natural. soon i would be, too. felt groomed since childhood and watching my father tediously roll his "special cigarettes", my calm. cigarettes that smelled entirely different from the tobacco 'old man archie' rolled at the corner store. cigarettes that made him laugh loudly, scat to bebop and create delicious dishes for me to try. it wasn't until she began to "roll-up" did i even make the connection. my 'aha' moment. a smokey, green light bulb hanging above my head. and i suddenly felt like scatting, too.

i stopped by her house on my way back from the market. a semi - "pop-up" visit (i called from the driveway, as i'm also semi-respectful like that). and there she was. barefoot, and pretty toed, clad in black tights and tank top. stretched across her bed, a cigar box filled with doja by her side, she was more open than usual (never has she done this when my camera was near) and i relished the exposed energy. chided her about her use of 'wraps' (my father thought it disrespectful to the herb), she laughed. and when she clowned me about my overly cliché use of nag champa incense, i laughed. and somewhere within giggles and jokes and watching her roll her nightly therapy, i calmly captured the spaces in between. 

 v

.013 day 3

meet...b.

b loves nail polish.

meet b's toes.

b's toes wear nail polish.

the end.