Good morning to you, too

This was a few months back when Chloe was rummaging through a clothes pile on the floor of our bedroom. She unearthed this soft white hat and seemed totally content going about her business with it on her head, bumbling from one end of our room to the other, discovering more treasures, occasionally toddling in front of our mirror to check herself.

Sometimes I miss

This was when we lived in Battery Park. This bed was in our living room right up against an expansive window from which I'd often look out at the apartment building across from us, glimpsing the residents and their furniture. I spotted large mirrors and heavy bookshelves, potted plants, beautiful bouquets and there was always at least one balloon in the scene. There were several stay-at-home moms and that made feel like I fit in.

Except when, around 5:45, I'd rush out on the street with my bouncing backpack and make for the subway to NYU, where I'd be in class until 9, back home by 9:30--often to a still wide-awake Chloe but sometimes, sleeping. Mouth squished between her cheeks, a ball of a chin underneath.

How do I de-stress, you ask

This helps. My happy place.

Chloe made a butterfly today

It was just Chloe and me today and it will always be one of the best August 24ths in my life.

We rode the crosstown bus to the Children's Museum of Manhattan. A whole new wonderland-- markers, sand, colors everywhere, yah-yah's, boats, fishing rods and oversized smocks, her butterfly and bubbles--and then later, asleep. Waking up in Central Park, toddling barefoot on satiny grass, running toward me, green-markered fingertip touching my nose-- "Mama!"
Then touching her own nose-- "Oh-ee!"

Throughout the day, "Mama-- Daddy?"
"Daddy'll be home soon."

Lights off in her bedroom, her cheek on my stomach. "Mama... Daddy... Mama... Daddy...Ee-yah-ee-yah-yo."