#TruthTime, October edition

Here’s what I’ve learned this month. You’re never quite as alone as you think. When you stand at a front window and stare into the middle distance while eating fistful upon fistful of your child’s Halloween candy in some semblance of pajama/work at home attire, you will appear to the casual passerby on the street like an absolutely terrifying (and confusing) apparition. (“You heard about THAT house, right? They say she died with fun-sized Baby Ruths clutched to her chest…”) {Read More}

Six years of Suzy

Dear Susannah, Hey baby girl, happy birthday. Six! SIX. Exactly six years ago we met, and the squirming, kicking, cantaloupe-and-liverwurst-craving boy I had been so sure I was having… …turned out to be a rosy-cheeked, blonder-than-blonde dollface of a ladybug. You, kiddo. Since then, things have gotten pretty noisy. Since then, things have gotten pretty wonderful. I love how your heart leaps out of your chest to comfort a crying classmate, a meowing kitten, or a UPS guy who maybe {Read More}

Birthday love and love on birthdays.

I love birthdays. I LOVE birthdays. I love the celebratory nature of them, the special eventitude, the cake. (I love the birthday cake. Even over-sugared grocery store frosting birthday cake is the stuff I love.) I love ushering in a new year, taking a moment to say “This is who I am now, and this acknowledgement needs to be acknowledged by folks outside the general vicinity of my bathroom mirror.” And oof- lemme tell you, I love my children’s birthdays. {Read More}

Birthdays and time travel.

So, this past Monday was my birthday. (And yes, we’re still talking about it, thankyouverymuch.) It was…perfect. It really was. Quiet. Fun. And wonderful, in the way that spending time with the people who appreciate you (even if they don’t mention it while you’re cutting their pb&js into geometrically exact triangles) is wonderful. Oof, 36 year-old Keely would be basically unrecognizable to 26 year-old Keely. (“So…you didn’t dance on any bars? Like, not even a smallish one?”) I was glad {Read More}

Birthday boy.

My dearest, darling-est, only Man Cub: Happy Birthday Eve, Jasper. You are so incredibly close to two years old. You are also- at once- a squishy little baby-cheeked toddler and a decidedly stubborn male of the impatient persuasion. You ricochet between neediness (“Mama, Mama come, help you? UP. Mama“) and hittin’ the road, Jack. Fun fact: Did you know that Jack Daniels’ first name is actually Jasper? You’re clearly destined for greatness, distillery or otherwise. You are also destined for {Read More}

Six. (Like, years.)

Dear Nora, First off, happy birthday. You are six. You are six. I remember each moment of your arrival- and don’t tell me I don’t, morphine ain’t that great of a drug- because I wanted to meet you so badly. I panicked (and ate salt) throughout eleventy-nine months of a sitcom of a pregnancy (one of the more serious and “real” episodes, obvie). What if I had no idea how to be a Mom? Would I ever be able to {Read More}

Lille Huset & the greatest dollhouse party, ever.

Today’s post is sponsored by Lille Huset, a gorgeous line of crafted and creative dollhouses that my kids will eventually get to play with by themselves. As soon as I let go of them. (Today is not that day.) That said, all thoughts, opinions, and perfectly decorated playhouses are entirely my own. *** When I was a little kid, I played with dollhouses. When I was a slightly older…kid…I played with dollhouses. Only by this time I was an expert {Read More}

Hiding under a towel, stepping away from the glue stick.

I had a Charlie Brown moment yesterday. Specifically, I had a Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown moment as I stepped out of the shower yesterday. (Stay with me, here.) Only a week in, October has felt like a sprint. A sprint that I so wanted to enjoy and excel at, but one which left me feeling a little, well, winded. So when I grabbed a towel to dry my hair and the barrage of thoughts raced through my head (articles left {Read More}