Sound Good?

I was doing the dishes, singing along to They Might Be Giants' "Flood" at the top of my lungs. Feeling good. Happy. Hopeful.

This is a picture of The Dictator's dream meatloaf. I found it on the 'net one day, and snagged the picture because it embodies everything possible that could make The Dictator happy.

It is meatloaf, stuffed with macaroni and cheese, wrapped in bacon.

I was just standing in the kitchen, doing dishes with an eye to the clock for when The Princess comes home from school.

Well, to me, that's meatloaf, stuffed with macaroni and cheese, wrapped in bacon.

It's what I want.

Husband has a permanent job. Hired in retroactive to Monday. Benefits to start July 1. Now, to turn the prayers over to my hope: a part-time writing position that was posted locally. Less than 10 miles from my house. Somewhere I've wanted to be. I've always called it my "Plan B" -- a good place to work that would be flexible around my being a mother.

I want my meatloaf!!!

Early Birthday Present

Three little words, whispered in my ear in the middle of the kitchen while I made supper.

"I love you."

Yes, I had to ask if she would maybe say it, pretty please, for my birthday this year.

But after YEARS of not hearing the words, it's so nice to hear them.

The Dictator's resolve is finally cracking.

****************

Somehow, when The Princess went through a phase a few years back where is wasn't cool to tell mom you love her, The Dictator (at like, age 3) internalized that as YOU MUST NEVER EVER ON YOUR LIFE TELL YOUR MOTHER "I LOVE YOU". EVER.

So, long after The Princess relented and at least started mumbling "iloveyou" on Thursday nights, if no other time -- well, The Dictator has clung so stubbornly to the resolve to not say it.

As big as her heart is -- as much love that flows out -- she hasn't said it. For years. She does the sign language for it. She has a code word for it -- "double". But she hasn't said it.

Until last night, when time stood still for a moment. Little fingers cupped around my ear, a breathy "I love you", and back to normal.

Tight hugs -- a few tears from me -- and some dancing. We always dance when I cook supper.

I know she loves me. She knows I love her.

But sometimes, it's nice to hear the words. And to get to say "I love you, too".