Planting Along The Verge

Ho Ho Ho.
I hurt my back again. A regular annoyance. I’m behind on my New Yorkers so I can lay down and read them and when Em finishes watching her screaming children movie, I’ll lay down and watch something useless and boring because that’s what we pay the big bucks to our cable tv company for.

I’ll also gaze lovingly at my Christmas tree. Yes, I have a Christmas tree inspite of the fact that I DO NOT Heart Christmas. The Dishwasher, bless his enormously sweet chocolate truffle heart, purchased a Christmas tree I said I loved and wanted and had it delivered to our door. It has no leaves only brown branches and it’s small but it holds all of the goofy little ornaments we’ve collected through the years (the wooden zebra we hung above our berth on our boat, the little dog dressed as a hippie) and it fits just right in the window. It’s perfect.

Em is home and being so decent it’s about melting my heart into a giant puddle. She hasn’t looked at her father with contempt once and has even managed to stay in the room with us once or twice. EVEN sat and had dinner with us last night! These are huge gifts I’m ridiculously grateful for. We’re battered and dazed parents reliving the nightmares of our own parents. I have a deep respect for my own Mother these days. Marveling at how she didn’t break under the pressure of raising us. Alone. Of course she’d already been broken in the worst way. Dealing with our shit wasn’t so bad especially since Abuelita had her back.
Is that quiet I hear? Yes it is. The children have stopped screaming. I can go lay down.