Spit to Dunk Your Butts In.

LE is shuffling out of the pink froth of little-girlhood into the kaleidoscopic colors of kid-hood. So she doesn’t dress-up anymore, in flouncy pink skirts with clashing wrinkled leggings and a broken Barbie tiara.  But she got a toy microphone for Christmas. Along with a Belinda Carlisle CD and…a Lady Gaga CD. I put them…

transplanted monkey liver

  I am a Girl Scout co-leader this year. I didn’t want to be. I’m brutally lazy. I like to lay down at meetings. My body rejects order and organization like a transplanted monkey liver. But there was what Gus calls, “a power vacuum,” and I was the only one to fill it. Then he…

Starting Pistol

  Last night, after drinking gallons of watered down apple juice and milk, LE pushed her small belly against the fabric of her nightgown. It rounded out and sloshed. “Mama,” she said, with true sadness, “I look fat.” It had the effect of a starting pistol, cleaving the uneasy anticipation and sending me on a…

unprofessional-grade-tits

“Mom? Do grown up’s bottoms get wrinkles? From the water? Like fingers?”I stand up from the slight stoop I was in to towel off my hair after switching places in the shower with LE. I consider the lovely view of my dimpled rear my daughter has been observing from the floor of the shower, and I say, “Yes.…

We even disconnected the TV

  You’d think being responsible for someone else’s life would make you really uptight, but it has the opposite affect. You spend your days tending to someone else’s feces. In the before-time, you could enjoy the luxury of disgust, and silly fears. It was an indulgence, you know, to run screaming and flapping around when you saw a spider.…

FORGOT THE VASELINE

    When you look at yourself in the mirror, your brain smooths out the reflection for you. It automatically smears Vaseline over the lens of your mind and what you see is familiar, workable, fine. Every woman carries a gauzy camera lens and soft lighting in the toolbox of her mind. But then those surprises. Tagged…