My two neighborhood mom friends are working moms, so they signed up their daughters for a late afternoon mixed media class at 4cats art studio, because it worked with their post-daycare pre-dinner schedules.  My time is flexible, so I thought sure, this will be great. Sonya will get to do art with her friends and I’ll get to catch up with mine, too. Without thinking about the natural flow of our late afternoon routine, I gave in to peer pressure.

Sonya and Leena wake up from their naps around four in the afternoon. By the time they eat a snack and Sonya finishes strapping on her shoes, we’re usually running very late, if we even make it at all. The art studio is up the hill past the playground, and sometimes little feet get sidetracked. When I do manage to steer Sonya past the swings and the slides, where she plays every afternoon except on art class days, she has a hard time focusing on new tasks that close to dinner. I have to repeat each instruction several times, but she often gets distracted mid-step. Then she wanders around and inspects the pots of paintbrushes, pokes the artwork hanging on the walls, or goes to the window and waves at people passing on the street.

I assembled most of this ladybug while Leena tried to snatch and devour chunks of clay. Sonya rolled balls for the head and each of the dots, but it was really up to me to put it all together. Sonya did paint it, though, and she did a wonderful job. She’s really proud of it, and I think that’s money and effort well-spent, even if the experience is a bit haphazard and oddly-timed for us. We’re definitely going to continue taking art classes! Like the wonderful portrait painting class, which was with older kids, and therefore, didn’t require me to stay, we might pick something similar and earlier in the day so that we can all enjoy it more!

Just a few more classes of this session to go! We’re currently working on a papier-mâché fish.

* Just goes to show that an expensive camera does take better pictures, regardless of who’s taking them. Against my better judgment (maybe add “gullible” as a fourth thing about me), I allowed Sonya to take these pictures within arm’s reach. She took about twenty shots, and while most of them were blurry, they’re all maybe some of the best close-up portraits ever taken of me!

Unfortunately, now that she’s seen the amazing quality of the pictures she can take with the SLR, Sonya has demanded that she be allowed to use it. She’s said things like, “I being real careful.” and “Let’s trade!” and “First, Sonya get a turn, THEN Mommy get a turn.” These comments bridge the transition from special one-time use to full-time ownership.

Meanwhile, this has been a fun exercise— distilling out our essential characteristics. When Drex gets home on Sunday, maybe I’ll have him sit on the sofa and see what three things get captured by the portrait lens. What three defining qualities would you pick for yourself?

For my thirtieth birthday, one of Drex’s colleagues and his wife thoughtfully gave me a gift card to the nearby Ceramic Cafe. Last month, the girls and I waited for a cold and rainy afternoon’s excuse to go paint. All three of us had a great time.

We spent five hours there and enjoyed the kids’ platter: a bagel with cream cheese, nacho chips with salsa, and baby carrots, celery, and cauliflower with ranch. Sort of a great snack idea! Since then, we’ve had “the Ceramic Cafe special” at our house on several afternoons! It really hits the spot! And it’s so simple!

Sonya and I collaborated on painting three ceramic pieces. She chose all of them. I told her to pick something to paint for Mommy, something to paint for Dida, and something to paint for Grandmama. I think she somehow managed to pick the perfect thing for each of us, despite my attempt to foil her choices.

I got “an ABC”— the letter S. I tried to get myself the letter M or the letter R, but Sonya thought I’d really like a special S. For Dida, she picked a heart-shaped bowl. She thought Dida could put M&Ms in there and have it ready for us the next time we go to her house. I actually thought this was a terrific idea. Then she chose a paddle for Grandmama. I tried to convince Sonya that Grandmama might want a bowl or a plate instead. Nothing doing.

While we were painting, a Ceramic Café person came to take our order and see if we needed anything like brushes or underglaze. I asked her what that paddle was supposed to be. She explained that it was a hairbrush and the bristles were included and would be inserted after the piece had been overglazed and fired in the kiln. Well, that’s pretty cool!

So in the end, Sonya managed to pick the perfect thing for everyone. She did most of the painting, which is why we stayed there five hours. Then I helped her write messages on all the objects, which I somewhat botched. Oh well, it adds character, and there was no erasing, anyway.

Apparently the objects arrived safely to Texas in time for both grandmother’s birthdays. We’re happy about that. I still have my S on the shelf next to me, sitting serenely in its glossy splendor.

Je vous remercie beaucoup pour ce cadeau tellement fabuleux, Mathieu et Isabelle! J’y reviens bien sûr! Toute la famille avec vous, peut-être?

This afternoon, I sewed Leena a repurposed Imke shirt. She’s taking long naps, eating huge meals, and going through a growth spurt, so I made a roomy 18 month size.

I think it’s cute and funny, because it’s a sushi shirt. And babies don’t eat sushi.

This evening, just when I thought I might be at a psychological breaking point, two of my friends offered to watch the girls for a couple hours while I went out to dinner. It was a much-needed sanity break!

Even though the girls have been adoring, sweet, and well-behaved— geez, I hate to complain— it takes a great deal of focused energy for a grown-up to maintain the level of constant exuberance required by young children.

I totally lost it with a mom I met on my walk home from Sonya’s daycare this afternoon. She was pushing an umbrella stroller. Her daughter, who was asleep, looked about Sonya’s age. This mom told me I was so lucky because I had two boys. Before I could say anything, she said she was 43 and wasn’t going to have any more kids, and she was disappointed that she “only had a girl.”

That is a literal quote. Unbelievable.

I told her my sons were actually daughters. Then she said, “I’m sorry! That’s too bad! I thought they were boys.”

Literal quote.

And then I lost it.

I’m not sure what I said exactly. I think I refrained from name-calling or profanity, but I definitely gave her an Angry Raging Pissed Off Feminist Speech that practically made her eyes goggle out of her head on springs.

If this woman ever sees me again, she will quickly roll her umbrella stroller to the other side of the street.

This was one of those kind of days.

But I think, even if I’d gotten more sleep and hadn’t spent the morning cleaning eggs off of every surface in the kitchen, I’d have reacted the same way.

There aren’t very many things that make me fly off the handle— but people WITH daughters who STILL wish their daughters were sons— they make me absolutely crazy. Someone who tells me it’s too bad that I have two daughters instead of two sons— THAT makes me ABSOLUTELY bonkers.

Because I wouldn’t trade my girls for any boys.

Or any other girls, for that matter.

Now I better get some rest.

I’m a very sound sleeper, and last night I stayed up past midnight working on this story that needed to come out on paper, so I wasn’t eager to get out of bed this morning.

I vaguely recall hearing a dull thud, but there wasn’t any baby cries, so I think my subconscious filtered it out as house noise. Then I rolled over and went back to sleep. Eventually, I realized there wasn’t a warm body next to me anymore. Sonya must have gotten up! I launched out of bed to go find her and almost stepped over my two daughters in the kitchen.

Sonya casually looked up and said, “Good morning, Mom! You all done sleeping?”

My brain was having trouble processing what I was seeing. Leena had been sleeping in her play pen in the toy room! She can’t climb out! Drex isn’t here!

“Sonya, how did Leena get out?”

“I help her, Mom.”

I was still confused. Excited to share the story, Sonya lead me to the toy room.

Here’s what I think happened. Sonya dumped all the stuffed animals out of the giant zoo bucket. She turned it upside down. She pushed it to the edge of the toy bin. Then she tried to get Leena to climb onto the bucket.

Apparently, that didn’t work.

So then Sonya climbed onto the radiator next to the playpen, and pushed the top of it with her legs, trying to tip it over. It just slid on the floor. She kept kicking it and managed to unlock and collapse one of the sides. She was then able to assist Leena to freedom.

The two of them went to the kitchen. Sonya got the box of Cheerios down from the counter, poured it into a bowl, on the table, and all over the floor.

“I not reaching the milk or peebub butter,” she told me. I got them for her.

“You can go now, Mom,” she said.

I gladly went to take a shower. I listened to the pleasant clatter from the kitchen as I was getting dressed. No running water. All the cupboards are locked. Excellent. I went to reread what I wrote last night. Turns out, it was pretty awful.

“My stove not working,” Sonya said, coming to find me in the living room. I heard Leena crawling towards us down the hallway, making her endearing little huh huh huh huh noises.

Finally, my lack of providing quality adult supervision came to bite me. I knew it eventually would. Following the trail of slime Leena had left in her wake, I saw that all around the toy kitchen and into her wooden pot, Sonya had managed to crack half a dozen eggs.

“Leena and I making scrambled eggs for you, Mom.”

I took a deep breath and tried to think of the right thing to say.

I went over and turned the knobs on Sonya’s burner. “Your pilot light is out,” I said. “Better use the big stove. Let’s scoop these eggs into my frying pan and we’ll scramble them up. Then we better walk over to Miss Katya’s daycare! It’s almost 8:30!”

One of my readers Maggie suggested making Sonya something out of Daddy’s old clothes to help her feel connected to him while he’s away. That was a wonderful and well-timed suggestion! After weeks of waiting for a part to arrive, I just picked up my sewing machine from the repair shop! It works just like new!

Sonya has been really happy about wearing this Imke shirt all day! It’s made from two of Daddy’s repurposed T-shirts. [He's seen wearing one of them here].

Sonya sat next to me while I was sewing, bouncing up and down in her chair, intermittently clapping her hands as I did the shoulder seams, attached the neck band, put in the sleeves, and closed up the sides. She wanted to put it on immediately! Finishing the hems was absolutely out of the question.

It was a really easy and quick pattern to make, even though I had to rip a few seams because I kept forgetting one of the fundamental rules of sewing— RIGHT SIDES TOGETHER! Nonetheless, the end result looks pretty professional— except I need a serger to finish the edges with a polished overlock stitch.

“I want to make another one Mom! With Daddy’s Iron Man!” Sonya said. She was referring to Daddy’s favorite t-shirt, with a silver foil-printed Iron Man on it.

Don’t worry, Big D. I told her no. But then she threw this curveball—

“Maybe Leena need a Daddy Iron Man shirt?”

True. Leena does need an Imke shirt so she can be wrapped in Daddy’s love, too. We’ll do more cutting and sewing tonight. We’ll try to stick with worn-out old athletic shirts, though. They’re really soft, and despite many washes, they have the added bonus of retaining traces of Daddy’s scent.

“I smell him, Mom!” Sonya said, pulling the fabric to her face and taking in a deep breath.

This is our first project out of the colorful book Sewing Clothes Kids Love. It certainly delivered on the title’s promise!

It’s Earth Day! Even though I’m not the greenest mom on the block, I keep trying to do my part for the planet. In honor of the great outdoors, we had a living room campfire. (No, there’s no irony there).

Drex left us a series of envelopes with going-away notes to tide us over in his absence. Our first one said—

Today I left you toothpicks for a campfire in the living room. These are for roasting marshmallows! Remember, there are three steps when making a campfire.

1. Pick a good spot for the fire. There should be space for people to sit around the fire.
2. Put some sticks where you want the fire to be.
3. Light the fire with some matches.

We used pretend matches… but the marshmallows were real.

It was good that we learned an important survival skill this morning. Because our living room looks like a post-apocalyptic doomscape.

Sonya trundled through the wreckage with two Eeyores in the stroller.

“We need to hurry! We need to hurry!”

She’d secured them with a rope. Good thing, too. The stroller went careening past me into the safety of her makeshift shelter.

“Leave your camera! You need to get under here, Mom!”

“I don’t think I’m going to fit…”

“Hurry! Hurry! Get under here!”

I’m half-inside, thinking we’ve all just barely escaped from the slavering jaws of some hellish monster when Sonya started sobbing uncontrollably.

“Hey, hey, hey,” I said, wrapping her in my arms. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s hurting!” she wailed. This isn’t pretend anymore. This is real.

“What? What’s hurting?” I didn’t see anything happen, but I immediately checked her elbows to make sure she hadn’t dislocated one again.

“My heart is hurting!” she sobbed into my shoulder. After I comforted her for a few minutes, she said, “I want to watch a movie under here. Get the iPad, Mom.”

And you know what? Marshmallows before breakfast and a movie on the iPad seemed just like what we needed to do this morning.

It was really cold outside. We left the house for provisions after morning naps. We didn’t wear gloves. According to the weather report, it was one degree Celsius, but with the windchill, it felt like seven below zero.

By the time we got home, our hands were red and raw. I had a hard time getting my key in the lock.

Then in keeping with today’s theme, we shared a can of soup for dinner. While I washed our bowls, Sonya pushed a chair over to the world map hanging in our kitchen. I’d pointed out Barbados earlier.

She leaned in and kissed the map right over the specks of the Lesser Antilles.

“I’m thinking about you, Daddy,” she told the wall.

Sonya’s self-portrait is being shown at a local café. We went to the exhibition. There were a lot of young artists and families there.

Knowing that a plane leaves for Barbados in less than twelve hours, Sonya clung to Daddy. I caught a moment of them “breathing each other.”

The house will have a different pace and rhythm over the next week. I’ll miss the evenings of six-hand guitar.

We’ll be working on a huge homecoming surprise, though.