Everyone has momentary lapses of brain power—forgetting the actor’s name in the movie you just watched, the capital of Zaire. But more and more, I can’t think of basic nouns.

 I am #blessed with a name full of characters, confusion and cartoon reindeer.

A touchstone; a place where so much life happened and so many memories are kept.

“Mama, we all have a bad day. All you can do is be nice to her and maybe she will be nice back.”

I don’t want to be so weighed down by the demands of the day and the demands of the children and the patterns of busy that I miss these moments within these days.

Conscious, determined optimism, as opposed to the naïve exuberance with which I bubbled before actually having kids, is a necessary fuel for any parent.

These were the days when your neighbors looked out for all the kids on the block and had cookouts, when people wrote get well and thank you cards, and the days when others were  compassionate and reached out during hard times to lend a helping hand. 

How do we come together the morning after? The morning after a fight. The morning after I criticize you, or you me. The morning after insults are hurled and accusations are made.

He’s right, I’m irritable – angry and short-tempered and annoyed with the thankless repetition of day-to-day life. The reality – that this life is actually a pretty good one – slips from my grasp like ashen smoke, feeding my misery.

I do wish that I could bottle this moment. This place in time of you belly down on a swing with laughing eyes and having nowhere you have to be but the backyard.