real or faux, time to go

I'm staring at our faux Christmas tree, circa 1980-something, and I'm sad that it needs to come down. Just like every other year, I want to keep the sparkly lights and shiny ornaments around for a bit longer. Simply put, all the shimmering decorations (along with the sentimental ones) make me happy. Even my excited toddler exclaims "ooo-OOO-ooo" every morning when we come down the stairs and see it there, waiting to greet us. (And let's face it, he's learned to say "ooo!" because that's what I do when I see the tree each morning!) The ornaments are sparse this year (aforementioned toddler, no glass) but the most durable adornments have been perfect for him to pull off the tree and shove back in between the fake branches. His favorite, by far, is a glittery blue star gifted from his Gram. Upon spying it he says "Ess. Ess!" and eagerly plucks it from the tree. Sadly, once the New Year arrives, the tree will come down. But at least E has already started reaching for the stars.

another new year and a fresh start

With 2011 just days away, a little birdie on my shoulder is urging, "Monica, go ahead and do it. Start your own blog!" So here it is, the inaugural post of Mama Bird. Anyone who knows me knows that I have a lot to say, so this is a great format for me to share my thoughts with anyone who finds value in them. It's hard to muzzle me when I'm talking about my family or my career. But ask me about my son, and you'll be listening for a LONG time. So this blog is a compilation, a collection of posts where my thoughts merge about life as an educator, artist, mommy, and wife.

I want you to know that I won't always use perfect punctuation (sorry Language Arts teachers!) because I want to write the way I speak. I hope the "real" writers out there won't take offense! Sometimes my language is way too flowery, and other times too verbose. I'm a sensitive, sentimental gal, so you can be sure my posts, grammatical mistakes and all, will follow suit. And without further adieu, here it is, my fresh start for 2011: a blog to celebrate my life's adventures.

Thoughts about my baby bird:
My son was exhausted tonight when I rocked him to sleep. His room was dark and silent except for the hum of his heater. His little legs dangled over the arm of my grandmother's rocking chair, comfortably crossed. His little eyes were droopy and couldn't stay open as I nuzzled him and kissed the bridge of his tiny nose. Maybe it's because he just took his first steps and I sense his time as a "baby" is fleeting, but tonight as we rocked and I kissed his sweet fuzzy head, he smelled more amazing than ever before. Maybe to some it would seem embarrassing or foolish, but I was in heaven smelling his little forehead and tiny blond locks. Something about the scent of his beautiful head is precious and indescribably lovable.