When there is something...

Sometimes, I think there is something different about Tallulah.  Besides being awesome and amazing, like everyone thinks their kid is, every once in a while, I think there is something else.

Hyphen has always said that she gives the best hugs.  He calls them lu-lu hugs. He asks for them every day because he says he feels so much better afterward.  And this, in itself, or the fact that I think her little pats and affections are particularly soothing, would be no big deal.  

But her teachers say the same thing.  Her pre-k 3 teacher told me several times, how if she was having a bad day, she would give Tallulah and hug and feel so much better.  "It's weird.  But I really feel so good afterward."  Her pre-k 4 teacher also told me that she gave such good hugs.  After hearing this a few times and experiencing it myself, I told my mom about it.  Of course, to her Tallulah is a saint.  Clearly her favorite...not at all fair to the other three.  "Well, there ARE saints living among us."  

I am not so sure about that, I don't recall Saint Francis stomping as hard as he could on his sister's foot, like happened on Monday, but, could be. 

Today, she had a field trip.  So after it was over, we checked out of school early, and headed to the police stable to feed the horses.  We hadn't done that in a while, it was more of a pre-k activity.  Lately, though, it seems like we are missing pre-k.  There is a lot of, "I just want to be with you, mama.... I just want to spend time with you."  So we went today to feed the horses carrots.  There was one that was skittish, and didn't want to be petted.  He kept turning his head away.  

Except when Tallulah came by.  He turned his face toward her, and was still and calm while she stroked his tremendous cheek.  

So maybe this is a thing.  Maybe this is something.

Alice lives here now and my dog crapped in the car

I haven't written in this thing in over a year.  Primarily, because at night, I am so damn tired, the only thing I can bring myself to do is become annoyed with people I haven't talked to for 20 years on Facebook due to their political leanings.  I write every night in my head, while I lie down with the girls.  But then, I fall asleep after about 2 minutes and stagger out of their room at 10:30, only to find a husband sleeping on the couch with Fallon jabbering in the background.  Then, cue facebook.  It's a terrible habit, but it makes everyone happy... well, two of us, so in an effort to curb this, I have been trying delay tactics or I go on a walk with a friend.  That usually gets Tallulah to give up the ghost, and then I just have to deal with the thinker--"Mama, I think I am going to invent a machine that"...blah blah, I can't hear it, I am asleep.  

But Tallulah is not as happy with this arrangement as I supposed.   The other night, I went on a walk and hyphen put them to sleep.  Then next morning I found out from annabelle that Tallulah has another mom named Alice.  She lives behind the back corner of her bed.  She only comes out when I am not there or don't put her to sleep.  Mommy Alice has light brown hair that is curly at the ends.  She has brown skin kind of like Tallulah's, and she is about Tallulah's size.  She doesn't have a birthmark.  She is very nice.  Although I don't know mommy Alice, I have to say, I really like her.  

It's too bad she can't do more around the house though.  Like today, when I dropped the dogs off at the boarder.  I am telling the boarder how cute the little dog is, how she steals things and hides them.  How she likes to play keep away with the girls.  How when I bring Tallulah to drop her off, Tallulah cries and cries.  It's all so sweet.  So damn sweet, until I get back in the car and it stinks like a two week old bag of raw shrimp that got left in the beer fridge. I look in the back and see two small dog turds.  I could have really used mommy Alice's help right then.

I am about to be out of the pet business.  That was it.  So I had to clean them up and this is the kind of crap, literally, that makes me tired at night.  

It's a vicious cycle.  My dad told to at least be grateful.

It could have been the big dog.