because kids and house closings go together like milk and cookies

my whole body shivered with excitement and disbelief, enlightened by a sense of growth and achievement, just like the first time I drove my mother's car when I was 19. we clinked champagne glasses and giggled with delight like 7-year-olds. I knew that I would learn a lot, but I hadn't planned to learn most about love. unconditional, playful and patient.

on Monday, my husband and I signed the final papers and closed the deal on the house. a ten day delay has allowed us to write this new chapter of our life together. it's officially ours now.

a lot of things are waiting to be packed, cleaned, organized, bought and assembled. and my husband is leaving again. but the simple things I now foresee, like growing cherry tomatoes on my balcony or watching Sean and Will bounce on the new bunk beds, fill my heart with gratitude and are telling me not to hasten and to be more contemplative this time. to hold on to that exhilarating feeling. and bask in the moment.

you know you're a momster when

you buy your son a new outfit he proudly wears to church and realize two weeks later that's it's actually a sleep set.

wherein I embrace my nerdy side

yes, I am an almost thirty, wife and mother of two and I went to the free concert of the top 6 finalists of France's own version of American Idol with my friend Katia. yes, the average age of the audience was 11. after a few awkward attempts I did manage to quiet the responsible mother outraged at 13-year-olds wearing thong underwear and unashamedly screamed my lungs out. I sang. I even danced. and surprisingly, I did not invite curious stares. I think the last concert I felt so deliriously enthusiastic about was New Kids On the Block's. and I was 12.

playground

I now feel almost overjoyed everytime they call me to wipe their bottoms

excitement is mounting as I carefully empty every drawer and pack almost 5 years of my life in recycled cardboard boxes. I look at an old picture of Sean and Will sitting perched at the top of a slide, glowing with life and careless beauty. their perfect world shining down on the rest of us. and I think, yes, it's true. they do grow up too fast.

Sean and Will now use the words "risk" and "kill" and ask to be separated on Saturday afternoons. they have insanely serious arguments about material belongings. they explode with delight everytime they watch a colony of ants navigating obstacles and deviating from their straight trajectory. they have longer bodies, question my being omnipotent, shy away from tummy kissing and push the right buttons. and they have leg hair.

suddenly life seems all convoluted and scary.

artclass

this is what my husband is busy doing while I'm desperately trying to explain to our sons why they can't empty shampoo bottles in the bathtub

Sens commercial

KTF commercial

LG Whisen commercial

I couldn't be more proud of him.

good morning to you too

"MOOOOOOOMMY!!! WHY DIDN'T YOU WAKE ME UP?!!"

"because watching you walk in the room with your security blanket, little teddy bear, coloring pages, DVD and an M&M's lunch box hanging around your neck at 6.50am is the HIGHLIGHT OF MY DAY"

now accepting donations to fund my 4-year-old prodigy's musical education

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“the key to success in life is how well you adapt to plan B”

I am anxious, I feel vulnerable and I hate my banker. yet a healthy liver and excellent blood tests results are reminding me to embrace life with its imperfections and understand and accept that being alive always implies struggling. that the things I believe I can't possibly achieve are often hidden miracles in process. and that amidst daily pressures and challenges we can be glorious and amazingly, perfectly happy.

before Sean and Will were born I used to sing in the church choir every week. we would sometimes rehearse for days on a three minutes long performance yet there was no excitement like it. we worked freely, with all our intelligence and love and nothing could make me happier. I witness the same joyful and feverish energy when my sons chase the neighbor's cat and laugh exuberantly as they pat him on the belly. when they marvel at a sprinkling of daisies on the sidewalk, when they spend half an hour completing a coloring page they proudly display on the refrigerator's door.

lately I've been trying to recover that sense of impassioned energy, of divine awareness. to live more in the present, and honor it. to survive another 3 weeks alone with my boys. to quiet the anger, to love beauty. to be not afraid. and close the deal on the house by myself.