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Really? Oh well. Thanks, AOL! And please, bite my ass. My patience is coming to an end. Your best regards aren't quite enough. Could you not have sent out an email telling us about the problem before we went insane and downloaded new operating systems and went into hysterics and bothered our techie brothers and felt like complete and utter incompetent assholes?
Anyway, la-di-dah, first world problem if there ever was one.
I've been in a mood today which I can't describe because it's like a complex braiding of all the moods and all of the feelings and thank god I could get out and do something with Jessie and Lily and Gibson and August and Magnolia because it kept me from curling up into a ball and crying my eyes out or...
Well. Something not conducive to life.
Here's a picture I just stole off Facebook. Jessie took it from the back seat of Lily's van where she was sitting between the babies.
Gibson was in the way back. He and I learned today that if we put the sides of our heads together while we are eating croutons, we can hear the sound of our mutual crunching remarkably well. This may have just been a ruse for him to get all of my croutons, but it was worth it. On the way home he asked his mother if he could jump on the trampoline.
"No," she said. "You cannot."
"But I no broke my arm!" he protested.
Still, she would not let him.
We were running late, as usual due to babies needing nursing and changing and so forth and I volunteered to go pick up Owen from school while Lily and Jessie unloaded the van and...nursed and changed their babies. When I picked up my boy, he said, "So Mer. Maybe we should go to that place where they sell toys."
He meant the Lighthouse Children's Home thrift store and so after a call to his mama, we went. He bought a Buzz Lightyear toy, still in the unopened package and we got Gibson a truck thing which Owen said he would like.
I was so loathe to leave Lily's today. I just wanted to hold on to all of them. Sometimes there is nothing as soothing and comforting to me as the simple holding of a child's hand, the snuggling of a baby to my body, the touch of a daughter or a son on my back or arm. So I stuck around as long as reasonably reasonable and then came on home to make Mr. Moon's snack bag, to get him on the road, to do a few chores around here.
And here I am. My husband is gone to Orlando and I am still feeling all of the feelings. Jack is sitting behind me on my chair. I am going to heat up stuffed peppers for my supper. I actually charged the batteries for the "real" camera to take some pictures of the rising full moon through the naked pecan branches but it appears to be too overcast to catch even a glimpse of the full-bellied glory.
It's like that for me now. I know the moon and the stars are out there but I cannot see them. Both realities- their presence and their absence- are true as true.
I reach back and stroke the green-eyed cat.
I am overcome with it all.