addie came home from kindergarten in a police car.

Addie came home from her first day of Kindergarten in an unmarked police car.

Escorted by a detective with a gun and badge.

No part of that is a lie.

You see, Addie was supposed to ride the bus home after school. The bus came to the top of our street, the doors opened, the kids poured out, the doors closed and the bus drove away.

No moosh.

I wasn’t even sure what to do.

So I told my neighbor “Soooo…the bus didn’t bring my kid home.”

She quickly turned to her husband (a detective) and said “GO! AFTER THE BUS! ADDIE IS ON IT!

So he took off in his unmarked car.

I wasn’t even sure if Addie was on the bus or not.

The bus stopped again at the other corner, still no Addie.

The bus continued around the corner, so did the police car.

We stood on the corner.

We waited.

And waited.

Finally the car came back around the corner and into the driveway with one curly headed Kindergartener in the back.

One oblivious curly headed Kindergartener.

She was talking to her friend and FORGOT TO GET OFF THE BUS.

Which in mom speak translates into “ALMOST KILLED HER MOM DEAD.”

So.

Other than that? Addie thinks Kindergarten is the bee’s knees.

I however may be dead by grade one.

(photo by Kim Orlandini)

kindergoneden.

It’s official.

I dropped her off for her first day of Kindergarten this afternoon.

I am the mom of a school aged child.

I don’t so much mourn the fact that she’s growing up (although it could slow down and I wouldn’t hate it.)

It’s that I am supposed to be hugely pregnant right now.

Addie going to Kindergarten was always the benchmark of pregnancy. Cody would have been out of law school for over a year. We would have health insurance. The surgery and hormone treatments I underwent would do their magic and I’d be walking Addie to the doors of Kindergarten with a huge belly. She’d get to tell her class about her soon to be brother or sister, I’d get to fill out those blank spaces under “other children” in the school registration packet.

everything will be okay

The timing seemed so perfect. I’m supposed to be pregnant right now.

I fantasized about how wonderful it would be to have Addie in Kindergarten for a few hours everyday while I was at home bonding with a new baby. A few blissful hours of uninterrupted new baby time everyday. Then Addie would come home and hang out with us. Then Cody would get home and we’d be a lovely little family.

But I’m not pregnant. Nor do we have health insurance. But Addie is in Kindergarten.

And Addie is enough. She nestles right down into all those empty and broken places in me and fills them perfectly. Sometimes she even leaves a little sticky residue of peanut butter and a glow in the dark silly band lying around.

I love you my little Kindergartener. You were made for this kind of stuff.

photo by Kim Orlandini

You make my life more lovely and complete that I ever could have imagined.

chelsea market.

New York is my kind of thing. Waiting in line for street meat at midnight, wandering dark streets in search of noodles at 10 pm and chili dogs at 10 am. The smell of a man in expensive cologne closely followed by the smell of rotten garbage. Leaving a broadway show with a celebrity cast to find a big fat rat perched a top a fire hydrant. Elevator doors opening with clowns inside and elevator doors closing with you surrounded by no one that speaks English. Male models serving you drinks from trade show booths an older Italian woman yelling “IT’S NOT A GOOD DAY UNLESS YOU HAVE SOMETHING IN YOUR MOUTH!” as you pass by her shop on the street.

The city exhausts me, to my bones. It is a whole new exhilarating brand of tired. And I love it. This was my fourth time going to New York City and my first time going to Chelsea Market. If I were to be reincarnated as a place on this planet, may it be Chelsea Market and may I come back without a gluten allergy.

moving bread.making bread. bread. carbs sandwiches. hi. yes please. lucy's whey cheese store statue. mural. jo and michael chelsea market hallway foot traffic. crabs. coffee shop. imports store. lobster place seafood market. Chelsea Market Tarts oranges. oysters @eatmeaty

minha familia pequenininha. (my little family, Orlandini style.)

We were finally all in one place with a camera pointed at us by my disgustingly talented friend Kim.

What’s even better is that as I post this she is sitting right next to me in a full size bed on the 12th floor of the Hilton in New York City.

Also? She shot us with film. As in, whoa.

winner, but with a shadow of a doubt.

What is the most disappointing moment of your life thus far?

For me, it was Sophomore year of high school.

I had tried out for cheer and dance company in the same week.

I later found out I made neither, again, in the same week.

Dance was my life. And it was taken away from me because of a popularity contest.

It sounds dumb. “Wah, I didn’t make cheer.

But my heart still hurts when I think about it. I worked so hard to get to where I was, and even though I was more than good enough to be there, a vote from my “peers” told me otherwise.

Anytime I have entered ¬†or worked towards something since, I put my whole self into it. I don’t want anyone saying “Wait, how did she get that?” I got it because I worked hard at it. Not because I knew people or knew how to kiss up.

I have very high expectations of myself, however I am also very hard on myself when I don’t live up to them.

Everyone these days is a photographer.

Seriously.

Everyone.

And I spend a lot of time worrying that I will never be good enough.

A lot.

Just ask Cody.

But twitter (and someone whom I admire) tells me I’m exactly on the path I’m supposed to be on.

The judges at the State Fair tell me I’m doing okay too…

Third place out of lots and lots? NOT SO BAD.

My first reaction was not a good one. It involved a complaint about the ribbon not being blue.

I could have done better, I could have framed it better. I could have exposed it better.

Maybe then it would have gotten blue.

But it doesn’t matter because this picture means the world to her.

Big picture Casey, focus on it, instead of trying to take it.

xx-yourself.