having bundled the boys into their father's car, i put on the punk rock and hustle through housecleaning, beating the rug raw with a broom and even sowing the floors with baking soda to be swept up later. i tuck away all evidence of children, light incense, and stride off to do the shopping. returning home: my sweet-smelling hideaway, mine and mine alone (for a day anyway), reminds me of my love for small spaces.
after banishing xir to the backyard for hitting anainn, i hear a plaintive knock at the door. it is repentant xir, who marches over to anainn and kisses him on the head, then opens his hands to reveal dozens of peas he's carefully picked and shelled for his baby brother.
sitting around a fire for my friend's birthday, trying very hard to be respectful of the "shamanic journey" we are supposedly on, shaking like a leaf with suppressed giggles. i allow the circle to believe that i am overcome with emotion, not amusement.
cycling in the twilight down la cienaga, the cars rush by like rapids, nearly on top of me. i murmur to myself over and over that i couldn't possibly die yet, my children would turn out too weird.
looking deeply into my eyes, the boy i met in the deli asks me if i will "be his girlfriend".