with friends like these, who needs Zoloft

First shoes. Brand-new Nikes in his size at the Goodwill, $2.99.

It used to be I could sneak a trip to the bathroom and by the time he figured out I was gone, I was done. Now he’s got the speed of a full-grown man. Hard to remember that sometimes. He is getting bigger and smarter than I. If I had about five baby gates I would corrall him in the hallway and go outside and hide from him.

Considered starting a new support group today: Mothers on the Verge of Child Abuse. MOVCA. Just wasn’t a good enough acronym. Besides, no one would come. Too many people don’t want to admit the fact they are hanging on by a thin thread. I am ready to get back to smoking – it’s been a couple weeks. Hard alcohol would help, too.

Phone conversation with JB today. Time: 51:56. Yes, on the phone and eating bonbons – thank God for babes who still can nap on the tit. JB differs from the ilk of my small collection of close friends. If my life was Sesame Street she’d be the “friend” block that was green and triangular amongst the rest of the red lot of wooden cubes. Intuitive; cautious; spiritually broadened; very serious; sharp little bird. I have found a lot of help in her this week. It feels right, somehow, to rely on one another. To have the gritty conversations about the marrow in our bones. I hope she can learn to rely on me in some way, too. I know it doesn’t come naturally for her.

Fresh wheat bread dough rising; little boy playing with blocks in the living room; sunlight in my home; clean dishes on the counter, air-drying.

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