Monica Bielanko
That's What She Said
Just A Junk Drawer Dream
You can also find Monica's writing here:
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Bringing Home The Benjamins

I never thought I'd love my cell phone. But I do. Every time it chirps the arrival of a new text message my heart races and I can't check it fast enough. No, I'm not cheating on Serge. The text is from Serge. I know this because nobody but Serge texts me. I've trained most acquaintances by now. They know I detest correspondence of any kind and have pretty much given up communicating with me. If they do call they'll leave generic messages... Hope you are doing well. Having a get together this weekend, hope you can stop by. Call if you feel like it. Why they're (Natalie) still friends with me, I'll never know. But I love 'em for it. I s'pose twenty years is a hard habit to break.

So yeah, the texts, they're always from Serge and always pictures of Violet. Look! Here is Violet smiling! Here is Violet with a can of Diet Coke. Wha? I know. Serge likes to put her in strange situations and then snap a cell photo and send it to me, ostensibly to comfort me while I toil away in the confines of the newsroom. Here is Violet sitting on the couch. Here is Violet in the tub. Here is Violet with a glass of red wine. Here is Violet snorting coke. Here is Violet in her swing. I stare at each one, devouring details: her expression, the onesie he has chosen for her to wear. Does she look content? Does she miss me? I hope not. I hope so.

Working and being a Mom is hard. Take tonight for example. I had to slap together a last-minute package on blogger extraordinaire, Dooce. She had a book signing in Salt Lake City today. It was at eight. Our newscast airs at nine. The tape was rushed into the newsroom right about the time our newscast began. I had minutes to log tape, write the package and rush it to an editor. Manic. Gotta think fast. But I love it. Love that I am able to write every day. For money! But it's hard to be away from my baby. The one who gets all the benjamins.