Truly, I do. I made a basil-pecan pesto that was so good I thought I'd cry. I wanted to cry. Tom considered two tears. We licked the food processor bowl clean, and thus, I have no photo for you. But I bought a ludicrous amount of basil today (because I'm that gal who can't grow it; I do have a mostly sunless yard, which is definitely my [valid] defense) so plan to make a huge batch tomorrow and will then post my exact proportions in case you're interested. Which you should be. Like SO intrigued, stalking my recipes-page interested. It's that good.

Presently, we are grilling a pizza, and I am giving thanks that this day is done. It was not the easiest, but probably that is no surprise at this point. We are literally hanging by our thumbs until next Tuesday. And you know what, I know that's part of it, this raising children, raising a family. The tough times can really blow, but often I believe (hope?) that they're where the intrafamilial lines of growth and connection are solidified and made even more substantial. Sometimes I get so mired in the moment. I get scared, like "really? can I do this for one more day?" But then I step back a bit and think, "Em, that's what life is all about." It's about the gems in the moments, in the days, the weeks; it's picking out and appreciating those crystallizations of good and happy and holding them in higher esteem than their lesser molecules.

Yesterday, I spent a while with a friend of mine, a stay-at-home-mom I love and admire and respect; for that and so much more. I truly enjoy being her friend, I feel happy about it each time I see her. And she and I yesterday, we were like "this effing sucks." And it really does sometimes. And we're dying for school to start. And so many other women are waxing rhapsodic about the glory of summer and how fabulous it is to have no schedule and just hang with their kids. And my friend and I wonder, guiltily, about what we are doing wrong. WHAT are we missing? Are we missing a thing?

And that's the rub. We aren't missing a damn thing. As her oldest daughter climbed into her lap, and my boys smothered me with kisses and "watch me," I was reminded that we are just doing what we can. We are there. All the time. I myself find it easier to be totally frank about how hard this all is, how much of our own selves are sometimes/often subsumed by this hat of motherhood. But I get that others are too terrified to admit that OR they're just truly happy in their maternal role. And again, that's what life is really about.

Being true to yourself, as best you can. Whether that makes others comforted or uncomfortable, gains or loses you popularity or respect, your life is your own. And if you're as true to you and it as you can be, then hat's off. And if you're feeling like my friend and I are a lot these days, good luck until your first day, whenever that may be.