I remember a dad handing me flowers after a school play, driving me to a speech tournament at the crack of dawn on a Saturday, cheering from the sidelines, and crying at both my graduation and my shotgun wedding. My Alzheimer's-plagued dad remembers that he's supposed to remember me, but he doesn't know my name. … Continue reading Fathers.
on parenting
Plotting.
My children are plotting at the breakfast table. From the bedroom where I'm getting dressed, I listen to their scheme to write, illustrate, and sell books to make enough money to hire a butler. Yes, hire a butler. I overhear Rhys (because she's louder than everyone else, always) trying to convince my husband that having … Continue reading Plotting.
Milestones.
3:24am: Xander's first birthday is tomorrow. There will be cake, and perhaps he'll receive a sippy cup and a pair of mittens. A small celebration, but a big milestone. He still sleeps in our bed, though he begins each night in his own bed. Bathed, storied, snuggled, tucked in, and sent to slumberland. By midnight, … Continue reading Milestones.
Sleep.
The clock reads two-thirty in the morning. Xander is wide awake. He does somersaults in our bed, spins around so his feet are in my side, then in my neck. He pulls his pacifier out of his mouth and giggles before putting it back in his mouth. He tucks his head against my shoulder and … Continue reading Sleep.
Waiting for the bus.
Rhys Tip #5,639: Share a book with a friend to pass the time while waiting for the bus.
No-buy Christmas rule #3: Have super mature, kickass children.
Admittedly, this one might have taken some advance planning (i.e., trying to instill thoughtfulness in my kids since the day they each arrived in my life) and some "nature" that has nothing to do with what I like to tout as my super awesome parenting skills. I haven't fully explained the no-buy concept behind our … Continue reading No-buy Christmas rule #3: Have super mature, kickass children.
A no-buy Christmas.
I love Christmas. Every year, as we binge on leftover stuffing and pie, I start to get excited, complete with unstoppable grins and the I-can't-sleep jitters. The smells and the lights and the gatherings and the secrets---there's magic in the holidays. I was raised in an incredibly Catholic family. I attended 12 years of Catholic … Continue reading A no-buy Christmas.
Breath.
Monday: One of the students in my memoir class writes about the death of her mother. My student was sixty-one when her mother passed away. Her mother had lived to the enviable age of ninety-three. A death not unexpected. And yet, in my student's piece, she writes about the sudden feeling of aloneness. "I no … Continue reading Breath.
“I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”
(As one is wont to do when one begins working at 5am.) One: Summer will come, and with it, green and life and sunshine and warmth. Two: I work from home, every single moment of every single day. Three: I am married to The Greatest Man Alive. Four: I currently have six kids. Three of … Continue reading “I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”
Travel
I occasionally travel for my day job. I hop on planes for quick jaunts to spots around the country to observe, train, and professionally develop. Said travel almost always involves flying. I hate flying. I didn't mind flying before my entire family was in a car accident. We were headed south on I-95, on our … Continue reading Travel
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