Night Owl.

Ever since I made it through my first round of exams of the semester, I’ve been sleeping during the evening and waking up at night. I usually talk to Rob on Skype, write and edit a little bit, and catch up on magazine reading and internet surfing. I hadn’t realized just how much I love reading magazines. Something about flipping through pages and smelling perfume ads really feels comfortable. Plus, I get to practice my neurotic improvement tendencies and pull out recipes and articles to paste into my “Better Mommy/Partner/Person Scrapbook.”

For a few days after Rob landed a job, I sat around and did absolutely nothing. It was a gift. Rob can pay the bills now, I figured, so I don’t have to work so hard. I can relax. I can breathe.

Now that he’s been working a couple of weeks, I’m back at the grind. I’m writing an article about 20-something New Yorkers who moved abroad during the recession; I’ve decided to hike up my new blog to another level; I’m editing my little butt off and attempting to reel in as much business as possible; and I’m getting ready to be a mom of two. Even though I have all this on my plate, plus home stuff, stuff with the Folks & Bro, and of course, school, I don’t feel pressured. I don’t feel stressed. I don’t know how to make this clear enough, but ever since Rob started working, he’s been working a lot. And that? Is. THE. Sexiest. Thing. He’s. Ever. Done. Mostly because it makes me feel like I’m not really in this thing by myself, and that solidified and proven knowledge makes everything better.

(As I was typing that last line, a montage of XXX scenes and very mushy-gushy romanticness just played in my head, and I still stand behind the aforementioned statement.)

I’m feeling pretty damn lucky.

I feel the old writing tingles coming back: The poetry itch is begging to be scratched. Voices are coming back to me, clamouring to be put into stories.

Also: I’m feeling the urge to pick up a guitar and learn a few more chords.

I want to exercise and stretch and feel my limbs lengthening and my bones getting stronger, and my muscles eager for more.

I’m feeling creative and sexy and in control. I know in my bones that this is the beginning of something very substantial. This is where It happens, when I become someone I’ve only ever dreamt about, when my life takes turns that are so awesome, I never could have imagined them. This is where it starts. At night, as I rub cocoa butter on my body, sing to my babies, and hope that the one I’ve yet to meet loves me as much as I love him.

Everything is happening.

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