Book Of Likes Faces

Here's my idea that I've been thinking about for a while: A females only planned community. Women of any age can move in. You buy your plot of land and you build whatever kind of house you want - you want a tiny house? A sprawling Gothic Victorian painted completely black? A mid-century modern decorated to look like a Barbie dream house? All ok. You are only limited by your imagination and your budget. There are no HOA rules other than keeping your yard looking nice, but if you want stone, grass, wildflowers; it's up to you. It's a gated, secure neighborhood so if you want to go for a walk at 2 a.m. in your bathrobe, you absolutely can. There is a community fee and community buildings (like a roller rink) for awesome planned activities. Every first Saturday and third Saturday is dance club nights. The second and fourth Saturday mornings are Cap'n Crunch eaten in a giant blanket fort while watching cartoons. Flashlight tag every Friday. If you get sick, the casserole brigade will bring you food and tissues. If you need an emergency contact, we have a phone tree. If you want a break from socializing, put the "alone time" sign up in your window. We will also celebrate all of the holidays. Halloween will be an epic bash ending with a screening of Practical Magic and midnight margaritas. Thanksgiving will have plenty of folks who can't or won't celebrate with family. Christmas, Hanukkah, Diwali - you name it, we will celebrate it. Expected attire for the neighborhood is, again, whatever you want. You never want to wear a bra again? Fine. You want to wear a push up bra and stilettos? Fine. You want to walk your dogs wearing a ballgown and a tiara? Awesome!

I look at my children's adult faces. I think of births. Blood and the lot. I think of diaper changes. Babysitters. Midnight feedings. I think of doctor’s visits. Halloween costumes. Laundry. Teacher’s meetings. Thousands of drop-offs and pick-ups. Injuries. X-rays. Late night coughing. Potty training. Permission slips. More laundry. Emergency rooms. Broken bones and casts. Surgeries. Ear aches. Blood. Tubes. Discipline. Questions. Struggling with food. Struggling with shoe-laces. Struggling with winter boots. Winter coats even. Brushing hair. Crafts. Nebulizer treatments. Homework. Attempting to explain discipline. Chores. More blood and the lot. Running to the school with forgotten homework/chromebooks/clothing/band instruments. Divorce. Birthday parties. Stitches. Periods. Dealing with bullies. More questions. More explaining discipline. Teachers who didn’t believe there were bullies. Sleepovers. Fights. Fundraisers. Little League baseball and softball. Soccer. Dance squad. Cheer. Football. Wrestling. Competitions. Church. Holding them while they cry. Traveling to away events. More teacher’s meetings. Driver’s Ed. Even more blood and the lot. Forgotten homework on early school mornings. Cousins. Grandparents. Mean friends. Awkward real life adult education. More laundry. More fights. Late night snuggles. Forgotten permission slips. Always more questions. Fighting over homework. Choir. Musicals. Madrigal dinners. First jobs. Basic training. Volunteering. College. Girlfriends/boyfriends. Breakups. Soooo much laundry. Failed college. Overseas deployment. Grad school. More jobs. Did I do enough? Did I? Time will tell. I love you my babies. I promise to be a good Granny to your babies one day.