...so you ran from your friends?
no, that's not what I said mommy.
you ran from your teachers?
no, mommy, stop somersaulting my words.

i think it's twisting, little buddy. twisting my words.

i have a date with a psychic tonight. not a date-date. it's a girl. that's a psychic. a friend of a friend that talks to friends of the friend for free.

and i have been so nervous. staring at the phone. what if she tells me i am a horrible person? what if she tells me something, anything that i don't want to know? what if she tells me what i already know but don't want to admit but then have to admit bc she said it out loud?

but i did call.

and she didn't answer.

so now i am worried that she doesn't want to talk to me. bc she's psychic, you know. she had to of known i was calling.

it's been 15 years since we last saw our sister. we all have our memories of the last time we saw her. no one ever tells you it's the last time. you don't get a goodbye.

the last time i saw her she was crying. she needed help. and then she drove away.

the last time i heard her was on the answering machine. she kept asking for someone to pick up. no one was home.

and then the police officer came.

i remember the look on his face. i remember him taking off his hat. and telling me she was dead. and asking me who would tell my mom. i don't remember who called to tell her to come home. or who had the courage to tell her that her daughter was dead.

this is what i remember. every time i think of her. i remember a heavy sadness.

but she had a life before the accident. she was funny. sassy. beautiful. i wish i could remember those things instead.

i can't remember when my fear of baseball began.

i played softball as a little girl...on a team called slick chics (yes, really) with pink uniforms and crooked ponytails. wasn't scared then.

i went numerous cardinals games as a kid. don't remember being scared then.

at some point though it became an irrational fear. not a general fear of baseball...but a specific fear of getting hit in the head with a flying baseball. not in my thigh or my arm. just my head. see? it's irrational.

but i believe it. and i defend this fear bc people really do die this way and i'm sure they weren't expecting to get hit in the head with a baseball.

not to mention all the things that happen to me that seemingly only happen to me. the wiffle ball that impaled me while i was innocently running in the park? what if that had been a baseball...and it hit me.in.the.head. in the head. seriously. in the head.

problem though is that brody is already awesome at baseball. just like his dad was. no surprise.

and i'm his pitcher & catcher. you see where this is going?

naturally i've been secretly finding new ways to play baseball. kick the baseball. pitch a soccer ball. use a plastic bat to hit a hard ball.

but he talks. and he tells his dad.

and then i get in trouble.

i need therapy.

i will be witty when i can be.
i will be pretty when i must be.
i will have grace if it kills me.

that grace part though?...it's really going to kill me.

mommy, is adam a human or a pollen jock?
he's a human.
can he fly like a pollen jock?
maybe but i don't think so.
so he just stays in the hive?
well, he's not a bumblebee...he's a human so he wouldn't fit in a hive.
does that human boy make honey?
no, but he probably eats honey.
does he eat pollen jocks?
no, i don't think so.
is he gonna eat me?
well...you gonna start being good?
yes.
then he won't eat you.

mommy, do you have a pooch?
whaaaaat? what are you trying to say, kid?
a pooch on your belly?
WHAT? i DO NOT have a pooch on my belly.
i want you to have a pooch.
seriously!? what the heck? you should not say those things to mommy.
like a kangaroo, i want to get in it so you can hold me.

oh my god. i love him.

i am in love with this song. video makes me cry. so many similarities.

i didn't fill out my 2010 census so they have been sending the census people to my door trying to get my information. i am too stubborn to answer the door so they keep coming every night and every weekend.

tonight though i decided the only way to get them to stop stalking me is to answer the door and give them my information. simple, i know.

some of the questions were confusing though.

did you live here on or after april 1st?
uh, i don't know...what month is this? and do you mean this year or last year?
how many children do you have?
one
any foster children?
i just told you i only have 1 child.
any other children stay here?
seriously, i just told you i only have 1 child.
does your child live here?
um, yes...? (*you idiot)
does he stay anywhere else?
yes, with his dad 2 nights a week.
and do you stay there too?
well, that might be weird.

since my last post i have been getting a lot of questions about why i am attending buddhist classes. i have lots of reasons that will likely all make it into this blog at some point. but the main reason is that i can understand it. it is the first time that i can nod my head and agree. i ask questions, i get answers.

meanwhile, my sweet friend kim is christian. and tonight she tried to explain a bible story to me...

kim: ...so Hannah had a baby and devoted the baby to God when he was 3.
kay: how do you devote a 3 year old to God?
kim: she gave it to him.
kay: how do you give God a baby?
kim: you know, she just gave it to him.
kay: she gave him a real baby?
kim: yes.
kay: like a real baby?
kim: yes.
kay: for real?
kim: yes.
kay: how do you just give a real baby to God?
kim: bc at this point God was a real man.
kay: how was he a real man?
kim: bc he was Jesus
kay: hold up...i thought Jesus was God's son?

this went on for awhile...she gave up.

now do you understand why buddhism is simply a better fit for me? i would annoy christians.

our neighbor lady came by on friday. i have met her a few times, nothing more than chit chat though.

she wanted to wish me a happy mother's day weekend. and began by telling me that many years ago she was a single mom too...of a boy that is now in his 30s. and that from the moment we moved in she has watched us through her front window.

she laughed as she described watching me pull him on a sleigh in a flat yard with no snow, how she watches him repeatedly tackle me in the front yard, watches him giggle everytime i lose the race, watches us tend to our worms together and how incredibly happy he seems to be.

she was crying. i was crying. brody was shooting us.

it was the best mother's day wish. memories for her. affirmation for me.

tonight i was sent home with a mother's day gift made by brody. 3 fill-n-the blank notes that his teachers wrote for him...

i love my mommy bc she gives me lollipops.
i love my mommy bc she is pretty.
i love my mommy bc she plays with me.

last year the note said he was thankful for scrappy. a dog that isn't even our dog.

i knew those lollipops would pay off.

everyone keeps asking me what i am doing for mother's day this weekend. they lean in and whisper what are your plans for mother's day, kay? as if i am broken. as if no one will acknowledge or wish me a happy mother's day.

good intentions, yes. but is the pitiful tone necessary?

so i will be spending mother's day at the zoo with my sidekick. same as last year. and we will be looking for a giant panda that doesn't exist and have a meltdown bc we can't find it. same as last year. and he may or may not wish me a happy mother's day. same as last year.

and that's all i want. so no more pitiful tones, k?

i realized this morning that my baby has lost all his baby fat. he's so tall and thin.

*tears*