We have been sprinkled with magic fairy dust. Another respite angel has joined us for two mornings a week. Her name is Maya and if she ever needs an internal organ for any reason, I’m her girl. She’s here now. At least I think she is.

For the past forty five minutes, I have heard not one sound in this house with the exception of my own breathing. In the last four years, I have not experienced .05 seconds of consecutive silence at home. I don’t know what they’re doing but I feel compelled to check that Maya is not suffocating or having a heart attack. Yet, I’m not compelled enough to actually break the silence my ears are drinking in with the thirst of having walked the Sahara.

In conclusion, Maya, if you ever need a kidney you know who to call. However, if you’re currently buried under a blanket fort, I apologize from the bottom of my heart. I am unable to help. The silence, peace, and tranquility you bring me is a force stronger than myself. Your patience and creativity with Ellie is awesome. So really, it’s kinda your own fault.

I went out tonight with friends. For two whole hours. I kissed my family, told them adios and had me a mojito. When I returned, Ben informed me that as Ellie’s bed time neared, he found her on the couch, in the fetal position crying because she forgot to tell me she loved me before I left. [sniff]

Ben made her some warm milk which is part of the nightly routine. She took it but announced she was far too upset to drink it. After another ten minutes of crying, Ben asked if she’d like to call me to tell me that she loves me. She told him she really wanted to but she didn’t think she’d be able to talk. She was too upset. After a few more minutes of crying, she looked up at him with tears hanging on the ledge and said, “Oooh! I have a GREAT idea! How about I draw a watch on your wrist with my marker?” Ben obliged. As she was completing it she told him, “I’m feeling MUCH better now. Let’s do this again in the morning. Remind me.”

Hard to believe that just a short year ago, Ellie wanted to go home. No matter where we went, she would tug at my pants, look at me with tears in her eyes, and beg with all her might to go home. If other people were around, she didn’t want to be there. Especially if there were children.

I am the luckiest parent in the world. My kid is now whining at the prospect of having to go home from events involving family and friends. A couple of days ago, we went to visit our respite angel, Kris. Immediately after school. This is not typically a time we do things. It is sacred down time. I didn’t prep her before school. When I picked her up, I told her my plan. She asked if we could go RIGHT NOW. She couldn’t wait.

When I tucked her in bed tonight, I told her we would be going to the zoo tomorrow evening to see the friends we visited last week. She told me she wished we were going RIGHT NOW because she was so excited. I cannot frickin’ wait until she throws a fit when we have to leave the zoo because she’s having fun. CANNOT. WAIT. RIGHT NOW.

At the end of the preschool year in May, Ellie’s teacher put a book together for each student based on questions she asked them. One of those questions was, “What do you want to be when you grown up?”. Ellie’s response was a juggler.

Luckily, Ellie has the same classroom and amazing teacher this year. When we visited for the open house, Miss Carrie asked her how summer was? Ellie turned despondent and said, “You know what? I have some really bad news. I’m going to be an ice skater when I grow up.”

I’m going to make a generalized statement. A bold one. People who have more than one child living with them on a permanent basis are mentally deranged. The following is a partial list of questions Ellie asked of me in the first thirty minutes of awakening. I have only one child. I am mentally unstable. Therefore, individuals with more than one are…what was I talking about?

What did you do with my cigar?
Ask the lifeguard if you can blow her whistle.
Pretend to be my meeper but you’re too shy to talk. Why aren’t you saying anything?
Do we have to wash my hair tonight?
How come you never take me to parades?
If Carson yells in school, how do I tell him I don’t like it?
I only want warm noodles with salt and spices. On a clean plate.
When will I get black spots under my armpits?
Is this a new bottle of whiskey?
Can I ask you one more question?
I’m gonna need this chocolate milk warmed up. Not a lot. Just right. PLEASE!
Are you wearing a tank top?
Why is it still morning?
Are you using that lime, potato, garlic, and cornstarch?
I don’t want breakfast. I just want something to eat.
Why do I say breakfast like “breftex”?
Will you make me a scuba mask? NO! A real one. Use this pipe cleaner.
Look at all the dudes I put in the potty. I think they’re having a family reunion.
When I go to kindergarten I don’t want to ride a bus. I’m too scared.
Why is this soap only for your face? I made the sink all clean with it?
What does partial mean?
Why did daddy want to know if you hug the plumber?

I think it’s a good week when the only complaint I have is about my hair. About every four years or so I decide to grow it out to look more feminine. I’ve been doing that since January and my bangs are now exactly three inches long. With an eighties hook colic swoop part. The rest is flatter than my Irish behind. This, my friends, is NOT feminine. This is Chaz Bono. So, tomorrow, I will return to my closely cropped locks with the hopes that my stylist can also raise my cheekbones, even my skin tone, and remove the appearance of an extra chin or two. I don’t think it’s too much to ask. Especially since I have a coupon.

Today’s Lecture Series involves instructional ballet. Ellie emphasizes responsibility. As I look at the video, I see Ben’s work briefcase on the floor, with what appears to be a brown paper bag holding a bottle of something. Clearly, she learns about responsibility from her mother.

So Ellie and I are going to visit my childhood friend and her family. For four days. Ellie is actually excited about it which makes me completely giddy and all wanting to hug her. She’s kind of the anti hugging type, so that’s been unfortunate for her.

Question: Since swimming will take place, is it necessary for me to shave my legs for the friend I’ve known for forty years? It’s not like she’s going to be rubbing up against me. Unless I make her investigate that out of reach pimple on my back.

I shan’t be checking email, blogging, commenting or saying “internet” for four days. I hope there won’t be some sort of seismic shift without my cyber presence. Please. Go on without me. Try. See you soon. Mwah.

This is how I woke up this morning.

Ellie: Mom, pretend you are me and you’re driving to see the penguins and it takes a really long time to get there and you ask how much longer a lot and when you get there you have to unbuckle your seat belt and don’t see me at first but I’m a penguin and I don’t move very fast because I’m carrying an egg between my feet and you try to talk to me but you have to talk softly so you don’t scare me and you try to feed me and want to hold the egg but you can’t and you really want to and you tell your mom you want to and she tells you that you can’t because the egg is fragile but you still want to hold it.

I’m so going to have to teach her how to make coffee first.

Ellie: Mom, I’ve prepared a performance. I need you to come into your bedroom and sit on the floor. Before we get started, there are some rules. There is no touching of stuff and no talking. The performances are only at night and I have to shut off the light.

Ellie leans against the bed, all cool like James Dean.

Ellie: Hi. My name is Abby. Remember the rules. I’m ready for my performance.

Ellie climbs up on the bed and makes up a song and wiggles to it. At one point, she says “disco” and appropriately strikes a “Staying Alive” pose. When she’s finished she climbs down, announces that it’s time to go home but that another “girl” will be performing soon. She then she hides between the bed and wall for a minute or so before taking on a new persona. Repeat the above scenario about twelve times.

I become slightly disturbed as each “girl” is introduced with a more distracting name than the one before. Hannah, Holly, Cashadon, Wickywill, and Tuna. She then informs me that she is wearing her swimming suit that shows her tummy and that the “bones” part of her costume has “streamers” that she thinks are fancy. The bones to which she refers to are breasts and I haven’t corrected her. Don’t judge me. I’m trying to wrap my mind around the burlesque show going on in my own home.

I finally had to stop the performance when loose change was found on the nightstand and Ellie announced that I would have to start paying for the entertainment. Someone please pass me a paper bag to breathe into.