The important thing to note here is that MY BABY GIRL IS ONE, WHAT, what even is the passage of time, where did the days go, I guess we have just been living them? And the thing gurgling beneath all this to note is that I Joe and I made her a rainbow bear Cake, Joe’s genius idea, and he helped me mix the colors and decide which part should be stars and which should be stripes, the result is sort of, were we high? Are we dead heads? But we actually weren’t. And we aren’t.

But I can’t stop feeling guilty that that the cake wasn’t as cute or nice as the one I made for Joe, when he turned one:

It was a perfectly cute and nice rainbow bear, but I’ve been back and forth from NYC so I opted for a boxed mix, then I didn’t make enough buttercream, and instead of taking the time to make more I reached for those pre-made tubes that taste like windex and crayons. Morrison keeps telling me what matters more is that I made it with Joe, and that I made it with love. Bobbie enjoyed the ritual of being sung at, but was confused by the concept of eating something that looks like, a toy? Joe was uninterested, Mo humored me and ate some. I punished slash celebrated myself by eating so much of it. It tasted like Dewey’s pink lemonade, like love squeezed out of found minutes, it tasted like Mom guilt and food coloring. I ate it until my stomach hurt. I threw the rest away, and reached for my girl.