I’m not sure why…

Maybe it’s all the turmoil that’s been going on lately, but in the past few weeks I have had this absolutely breathtaking, overwhelming LOVE. The Zen Master, My Mom and, most of all, The Princess and The Peach.

Obviously, I loved them before. Duh. But lately, I look at The Peach, passed out in her crib, or I get a dorky text message from Princess Punk and this irrepressible smile splits my face in two. It almost hurts…

Princess Punk is a soccer STAR. Her coaches rave about her ability to block every damn pass that goes anywhere near the goal. She’s the only girl on the team they don’t sub. EVER. Every game this season, she has played in its entirety, while every other girl gets swapped out at least once per half. And I am so proud of her. That, coupled with pretty good grades so far this year and a minimum amount of attitude, 26/28 days make me the most annoying Mom EVER. Because I can’t stop bragging about her. Or viciously hugging her at least 10 times a day. And she rolls her eyes and gives me weird looks, but she laughs and hugs me back and it’s just AWESOME. And I am continuously stunned by how beautiful she is. She is statuesque and brown-skinned and her eyes will make men move mountains for her. When she’s A LOT older. Even with the teenage acne and the in-process orthodontic work, she takes my fucking breath away sometimes. But then she makes a goofy face and my lungs start working again.

And My Peach. My sweet, funny, loud, vibrant, talkative, energetic and occasionally psychotic Peach. She’s not a baby anymore; she’s hit full-blown toddler, with all the exuberant joy and tear-your-hair-out frustration therein. She is hot-tempered and stubborn and ear-piercingly loud. And when I am just about to slam my head into the wall to induce a coma for some peace, she’ll look right at me and stick her finger up her nose, or run over and lick my knee(Yes. Really.), or lift up her shirt and shout “BOOBIES! EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” And I just have to laugh. And snatch her up and get my crack fix with her giggles and (with her permission) eat her bellybutton.  And she’s beautiful too. In a completely different way than Princess Punk. She is golden and dimpled and her eyes are infinite pools of grey and green and blue and brown and reflect knowledge of life and love that surpasses some adults I know. And I stare at her and hold her and smell the still-soft spot on the top of her head and I get a rush that no drug in the world could touch.

And My Mom, and My Zen Master… All of us living together has resulted in some kind of weird amalgam which is happy and funny and right somehow. Yeah, there’s a lot of insanity and chaos and change and a lot of sadness and anger too, but things are settling down and the good is outweighing the bad more rapidly than I would have thought possible just 6 weeks ago.  

And we sit and watch Lost together and My Mom and The Zen Master (and frequently The Princess as well) take turns making me snort with raunchy, pithy, snarky comments. And The Peach dances this weird, mostly off-tempo, silly toddler dace when the credits come on and grins hugely and throws her hands up at the end and shouts, “Bad WoBot!” perfectly in synch with the TV.

And the smiles and laughter and feelings let me know that, Yeah. I am in the right place.

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