Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Ta-DA!

The time is nigh, friends! Tomorrow, my essay will go live at Baltimore Fishbowl in their My Real Life Modern Family column (or here)*happy dance*! I have no idea what time, but I wouldn't start obsessively clicking (talking to myself here) until after noon.

I think we're done with edits, bio, title and accompanying photo. Doing these tasks made me giddy and left me nauseated at the same time. It's just like when I sent a short piece to Emily at My Pajama Days and when my mom asked to link a post to her Lenten blog on simplicity - I. am. freaking. out. As I have now said repeatedly - it's one thing to hit the 'publish' button and know that a few folks (most of who know you personally) may or may not look. It's a completely different ball of wax when you put yourself out there and invite strangers in. I may start giggling nervously and sweating profusely - you've been warned.

Well, welcome strangers! Have a look around. Stay for a cup of coffee or a glass of wine. Settle in and tell me a story - wait, I wanna go first!

I never shared the piece from Emily's blog over here on my blog! Wait, at least, I don't think that I did... if I've already posted this, sorry. I'm too jittery to sit and go through posts to double check...
         

                Pajamas - A Love Story

I love pajama time.

I love the idea that there are clothes that you put on when it’s time to shut out everything but the world inside your home. Closing the blinds to exclude everyone but those within these walls. The two that chose each other. The whirling dervish of giggles, tantrums and questions that is an outward expression of their love. The fur balls that may or may not love us (maybe they stay because we feed them and our bed is soft).

I love the way that my husband’s face softens when he shucks off his suit and his workday worries and dons an old T-shirt with soft stretchy pants so that he can get down on the floor with his daughter.

I love how my daughter’s diapered buns look as she tears around the house in her tiny cotton p.j.s trying to make Daddy laugh. Her little bare toes gripping the floor as she dances with glee every time it works.

I love how it feels to undo the button of my jeans. That moment when the cruel waistband releases me from another day of constantly sucking in my post-baby abs. I love the anticipation of pants with no button and only the merest whisper of a waistband. Pants that whisper ‘go ahead – sit like that. We won’t be in the way’.

I love the moments of relaxed love when we pile up together on the bed or the couch in a pajama clad mound of tangled limbs and shared breath. Those times when our bond of family means that we can’t bear to be farther than an eyelash apart.

I love the days when our pajama time spills over into the next morning. Days when our family is able to spend time together without outside obligations except maybe a breakfast taco or doughnut run. Days when we can all lay around with wacky morning hair and unbrushed teeth grazing rather than eating a formal meal. Singing silly songs and reading favorite stories until the rest of the world pokes it’s head in.

Lets face it – I love pajamas so much that I might marry them… you know, if they asked… no offense, husband mine, but pajamas are pretty special…

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There you have it! A link to my newest story on the same page with the first story that I shared outside of this blog (which I desperately want to go back and edit or even completely rewrite!). Wow, Emily ran that just over a year ago. I've been obsessing about weather or not I can write for over a year?! Get over yourself already, Lady!

Oh, and new pictures of Lily Ruth (least we forget why we're here :-P):

flying a KITE!
hogging my ENTIRE side of the bed when I went out to search for Bing
sharing her juice with the Old Guy - knowing him, he'd take it!

3 comments:

  1. Lovely essay Rachel! You really (really) can write! Quit obsessing over it! It's great...really and truly :) xoxo Di :)

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  2. Thank you, friends! It was fun to go through the whole process :-)

    ReplyDelete