Reunited And…Wait, She’s TALLER Than Me?

A bunch of you know that, prior to mothering approximately a gazillion smallish people, I was a nanny for a decade. And one of my all-time favorite families had a little girl named Julia. Whom I met in an airport while stranded on my way back home to my newly chosen city of Chicago. This is what we looked like way back in the early days of our friendship. We took selfies before “selfie” was even a thing. And when {Read More}

Eat It, Just Eat It, Open Up Your Mouth And Feed It.

Neither picky nor choosy. Yet. Nora has recently become a choosy eater. Not picky, mind you. Choosy. There’s a mammoth difference. Our choosy eater consumes eggplant parmesan. Spinach pies. Sweet potato fries dipped in blue cheese dressing. WHEN SHE FEELS LIKE IT. And there are many days when she feels like it. And even more when She. Does. Not. I try not to let it get to me (because, after all, that would be a tantrum of my own) and try {Read More}

Best Holiday Visit Ever.

(Miss you guys already, Seavers!)

I Hate To Leave You But I Really Must Say…

For the first time in almost ten years, I am not a nanny. For the first time in over eight years, I’m not Julia and Lily’s nanny. And it’s odd. Because it was more than a job- it was a welcomed lifestyle shift and endless sparks of creativity for writing and a flower [bubble] girl and a duo of best friends for my daughter and a family. It all started with an infant named Julia and an endless flight delay {Read More}

Also, liverwurst now comes in slices.

I think I see a dandelion, Dad. There was a lot to celebrate this weekend. Globally, the capture of Osama Bin Laden. (And while I rarely “celebrate” any death, I happily acknowledge the sense of justice permeating the interwebs. To paraphrase a friend -thanks Andrew Slack!- Everyone remembers where they were on 9/11; scattered all across the globe. And now everyone will remember where they were when they heard news of Bin Laden’s death- on Facebook.) Regionally, we were stoked {Read More}

Weekends Are For Eating.

Corn dogs forever. Okay. So, this snow is seriously an unexpected turn of events. Especially to my ranunculus- which, yes, I realize makes me sound a thousand creaky years old- but they [were] lovely be-petaled window box beauties…and are now flowersicles. If there is one victory, it is that the sneaky bunnies and the mammoth squirrel we’ve named The Don will no longer be able to pilfer my lettuce. (Ha HAH.) Before I spiral into a depressing morning of Snuggie-wearing {Read More}

Ranty McRanterson

Okay. Listen. (And, incidentally, have you ever noticed how people only say “listen” when they’re sick and tired of doing so, themselves?) I’m tired of listening. The studies and articles about delusional parents and the improbability of parental happiness need to dwindle out, please. It’s getting really old. This study from Time.com, in a nutshell, set out to prove that the more miserable parents were with their daily stress/boredom/noise levels, the happier they pretended to be. Even this one from {Read More}

Odd Hygiene and Noisy Celebrations.

I’ve been noticing a marked difference in my Nanny With Nora versus Nora At Home routines. There are just certain things that I can do In House that wouldn’t fly whilst on the clock. For instance, I attempted to shower while Nora played on the bathroom floor with squeezie toys and bath books- in my own bathroom. (General rule of thumb: Keep your clothes on/don’t bathe in the workplace. This is just something I’ve always tried to live by.) Believe {Read More}