I was walking through our neighborhood with Dylan at my side, both of us pushing the empty stroller (“I PUSHING THE LAWNMOWER MOMMY!”—good for you and your fear-facing ways, kid), and we passed a house with a woman hanging out in the front yard with her young toddler. The little girl, probably around 18 months old, squirmed to see Dylan and grinned at us and waved, and the mom smiled and said hi, and I said hi back, and I . . . kept going.

So, let’s recap: here’s someone who looked about my age, with a kid pretty close to my kid’s age, who lives a whopping two blocks from my house. She seemed nice and god knows I could use a nearby friend, and I just kept walking. Instead of stopping and introducing us or even just exchanging more than a shy hello. What the hell.

(And then I came home and BLOGGED about it. Jesus.)

While I’m busy berating myself for being a socially broken Cro-Magnon, I’m also thoroughly enjoying some alone time with Dylan. Riley is in Oregon this weekend with JB, on his first guys-only camping trip (oh my god, he was so, so geeked about this, and I sure hope he’s having a fantastic time) and as much as I miss them both, it’s an entirely different lifestyle around here with just Dylan around. Fully 95% of his tantrums have completely disappeared, no shit. The screaming, the fighting, the utter chaos—it’s all gone. He’s been an absolute joy to be around.

Those of you with more than one kid, have you noticed this sort of marked behavior change when a sibling is elsewhere? The difference is truly stunning, and I wish I knew how to get to this place—the place where I actually enjoy spending time with my kid rather than wanting to pull my hair out by the roots—while our family unit is intact.



Do you believe in positive thought? I don’t know if I do. And if I do, I believe that it should be reserved for people who really need it. Me, I don’t fall into that category.






But here’s what I want to say anyway: I want something unlikely to happen. I want a series of events to take place, events I have little control over. I’m working very hard, but so much of it is up to chance. Our future has never looked so uncertain, in so many ways.

I am closing my eyes and clicking my heels. From here to there. Oh please.

If you’re the wishing sort, wish me luck. For now all I can tell you is that I am shooting for the goddamned stars.

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