as i sit down to check an email, open an account, and begin a new post my child drops the toy she has so patiently been playing with and commands my immediate attention. now, she teeters on my cross-legged lap, with my left hand as support, while the right chicken pecks at the laptop keyboard with hopes to accomplish something...anything.
as i retrieve a fallen pen, slip an important bill into a draw away from mischievous fingers, and catch a picture frame about to be knocked off the over crowded desk, I sigh. pause. smile. Thank-you. I'm exhausted yet bored, happy but I cry, finish nothing while still doing everything. Thank-you. I can be so angry with the world, people, politics, but then she smiles. Thank-you.
My left had has been relieved from it's duties. My baby (no, she is not a toddler yet) requested to be let down. As she scurries off, she glances back. Yes, baby, I am still here. She makes a pit stop at the living room window. Today, is trash day. The noisy garbage truck screeched to a stop outside our house. A uniformed man hops out, dumps the can, and is off, all the while Molly is pounding on the window and squealing with excitement. Just as quickly as they come they are gone, and Molly is off until she is once again distracted by something else.
Earlier, she was puddin' through the kitchen. I hear her began to snoop through my giant purse/diaper bag behind my back. I glance back and see her find a pack of crackers my mom had stowed away for our later use. Very intently, she twists open the remainder of the pack and slips a cheese cracker, bite by bite, into her mouth. After she has had her fill, she trots off, leaving behind a tiny pile of crumbs and a wrapper. She has grown from a birdy to a raccoon. I, however, will not be nick-naming her raccoon anytime soon. She will always be my Molly-Bird.
This past weekend, we had visitors....no, better, we had family over. As we sipped on drinks and snacked on pretzels and cookies late into the night, someone brings up White Christmas. I believe the conversation began with weeds, then changed to trees and then was trumpeted with pine trees. Pine trees turned into Vermont and we all know where that went. Before we knew, my mother-in-law and I were resiting lines and chanting choruses. I couldn't resist, even though it is only July, I had to slip the DVD in today and rewatch each amazing scene.
I couldn't even pick a favorite scene. Of course, my love for the iconic film completely irritates my husband. He doesn't find the humor in Mr. Wallace and Mr. Davis dressing as the sisters and performing their act or Mr. Davis fumbling for train tickets after knowingly given them away to the girls. I think he fears that after I watch the film, I'll request him to wear suits all the time and say things like "pal" and "awful." I do want to take a train to Colombia Inn in Pine Tree, Vermont, regardless of its existence or not.
There are a lot of made up places I'd like to visit. For-instance, Stars Hollow, the small town that the TV series Gilmore Girls was based. I would like a Stars Hollow for my baby to grow up in, but I guess we'll settle for West Milton for now.
Before dinner last night, I sat Molly in this chair. Until, I placed food in front of her, she sat like this.