TLC

Writing is like laundry. (Okay fine... Bear with me). Anyway, when I write, I like to present tidy, folded articles of acceptable cleanliness. (This is not the way I do actual laundry, which regularly goes straight from the dryer to a basket from whence...

"Noi-noi?" She murmurs. "Noi-noi?"
It's 3 AM. I slowly turn over in bed to find little Felicity snuggled in next to me, sleepily patting my chest.
No, I never expected to have nursing or Felicity's made up name for it last this long. But as a pretty laid-back mama, it has, on and off. Of course, I never expected many things to happen to me that have happened. What human can?...

So, I was about to pump gas. I mean, after I flipped the visor mirror up for just one more look.  And okay, taking a moment or two to fish in my purse for my lip gloss. And while I was at it, some powder. And fine, whatever, maybe some mascara...
Truth be told, I personally didn't like myself much today. I'd just gotten off the phone with my total blonde of a rheumatologist who wears leopard print leggings and heels with her lab coat. (Oh, I wish I was kidding.) The one who clapped in sheer girlish...

Dearest Pepper,
Today, you would have turned one. I so wish you could have.
I would have done what I've done with all your sisters on their first birthday: strapped you into your high chair and given you your first piece of cake, sans fork. Chocolate, of course. You would likely also have been sans shirt, since I've learned...