It's The End of the World As We Know It...

And I feel fine.

Dave tells me not to feel so smug.  Rapture is coming at 6 p.m.  But, it's 6 p.m. somewhere....right?  And if the rapture did already come, at least my family is together to face whatever may come.  We have been eating pancakes and cuddling and watching Word World, so I suppose it could be really awful outside the gaze of our windows.  And if it is the end of times, Dave assured me he could negotiate.

Or we could go outside and find a few 'wish flowers' and make some wishes to enter heaven.  Currently, Nor has been using her 'wish flowers' to wish for 'peace, food, happiness for the children all over the world."  Spence has been using his for, well take a peek below:

Files from the Courtship

When I was in third grade (or was it fourth?), I desperately wanted a Swatch watch.  It was deep in the Swatch watch craze and there was nothing more that I wanted but one (maybe two or three) Swatches.  Particularly, I wanted one with the flags of the world on it.  I think we had been talking more about different countries of the world in social studies.  (Does that date me?  I used to have social studies classes in my K-12 schooling.) My young mind was convinced that this worldly watch was the ticket to my place with the cool kids. 

When I broached it with my mom, she told me subtly that she did not think I could tell time without numbers.  I begged.  I pleaded.  I told her I would learn.  She insisted on the numbers.  I carefully composed my letter to Santa with clear directives. 

On Christmas Eve, my Aunt Cathi and Uncle Johny gave me a Swatch watch with large numbers on it.  I hated that damn watch.

I told that story to Dave during our courtship.  He chased down the watch and presented me with this poem.  Isn't he grand?

Ode to a Swatch

by Dave Snyder

I'm wound up tight,

If you pay too much attention to me,

You will be too.

I catch what files with my hands,

but always toss it back.

I'm in a band,

but make no noise.

My ancestors are stone,

Worshiped the sun,

But worked with shadow.

It was only after I opened the box that I realized the flags were not of the world.  Rather, they were of the boating world.  Yachting flags.  And for the record, I can tell time on it.

Sweetbitter

I suppose you never outgrow being a daughter.

I keep expecting this to get easier. It doesn't. Or perhaps I could grow a little more self aware. I don't. About 36 hours before Mothers Day, a flip switches and the weepy bitch arrives. And I can mostly tamp her down, but there are moments when she seizes control and warps every interaction.

Mostly with Dave.

He's beaming with news of "the best Mothers Day present" and I am pissed before I even open the box. Furious, as NOTHING can replace my mother. I understand this is not what he is aiming to do. I feel like I am not being listened to, ignored, forgotten. And I don't even want to open the box.

He cannot win. And I cuddle into Spence who has proclaimed, "I hate Mother's Day." Good boy.

There are always moments of goodness...because life is bittersweet or really, sweetbitter.  Eating my favorite breakfast ever with those I love.  Chasing after a beaming Nora with her babies and a superhero whose main methods of saving people are webs and water.  Holding hands with Dave.  Breathing.

It's just still hard to stay in the moment of mother, which still feels deliciously surreal, instead of daughter on a day such as this.

Life is Sweet?