1. On my face, talking out loud to God, for the first time in what I realize is half a year. My prayers sound casual but cut deep–simple language for complex heartaches.
  2. Another turn of the spiral. Another corner of the secret place.
  3. Coffee on the back porch accompanied by the buzz of the city waking up and the cat scratching on the inside of the kitchen window.
  4. Dysmorphia. What I see in the mirror is not what’s there. I want to be beautiful, but I’m not willing to stretch beyond the comfortable.*
  5. Intimidation by relaxation. Second guessing my reactions in context. Where do I fall on the spectrum of feminist, of racist?
  6. She wakes up happy. If I’d been alone, I would’ve cried.
  7. I find the strangest book at the baby store, printed in 1979 by a Christian children’s ministry. It explains human rights to kids and very simply states that in return for these rights, their responsibility is to respect that other people have these rights, too. The final one is “the right to rebel if your rights are being taken away.” I buy the book because of the mixed feelings it gives me. Further contemplation required.
  8. I watch them playing in the other room, counting piggies and laughing. There’s a curious tightness on my heart–wistful, bittersweet joy. As much as I wish he had more time like this, I know he wishes it more.
  9. The oatmeal-pecan-chocolate-chip cookies and the lemon-blueberry loaf both come out awesome. I’d eat them all myself (and maybe share with him and her) if they weren’t otherwise promised. My baking skills aren’t elite, but they are tasty.
  10. Things No One Ever Told Me about Being a Parent #19: Sleep is suddenly better than just about anything else you used to think was fun.

* This isn’t a cry for help or fishing for praise or an invitation to remind me that beauty is on the inside. It’s on my mind. That’s all.

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