Six.

Oh, my dearest boy. Today you are six. Today you are home sick. (Today you are home and really sick. So we’ll keep this one short-ish, yeah? Yeah.) Last night before bed you informed me that you were going to wake up in the morning and, first thing, look in the mirror. Because you knew what to look for. A certain “six” mentality, maybe, or another inch of Big Kid growth. Your Dad read you a book and, upon its {Read More}

Ten things to know on your tenth birthday, Nora.

Dear Nora Jane, I know I usually wax poetic on your birthdays, telling you how much being your Mom has changed me (because it has), and how incredibly wonderful you continue to be (because you do), but today feels a little different. Today you’re ten. Yes, years old. Which means that the wildest adventure I ever began started ten years ago today, which also means that- somehow- you’re no longer the tiny pinched-face potato tied to my chest, and I’m {Read More}

Ready or not…you’re eight.

Ready? Susannah, the “ready or not” part is for me. Because it has never, ever been a question for you, my dear one. Today you are 8. Eight years old! In Suzy years that’s roughly 59 because, as everyone knows, you leaped- fully formed- from my brain like Athena. (Yep, that’s how c-sections work. Next question!) You’ve taught me so many things, my middlest child. Like, that you’re not really all that little anymore. Maybe you never really were? You {Read More}

39 and feeling good and indulgent birthday posts

39. Good gracious. There’s something so self-indulgent about a birthday blog post, isn’t there? Thanks for indulging my self-indulgence. Today, I am 39. Thirty nine. That’s…a number right there. (Special note to friends and family over the age of 39: Thanks in advance for not smacking me upside the head. Because I’m gonna talk about it a little bit longer.) Because 39. It feels heavy. Like, your parents are 39, right? (Except they’re totally not; they’re most likely 50 and {Read More}

5 things I now know about boys. (A 5th birthday story.)

Jasper, my beamish boy, you just turned 5. Before you came along, I had not birthed anyone even remotely male. (It’s true.) Since then, I’ve been a big ol’ vocal opponent of gendered anything, insisting that boys and girls are exactly the same, and fighting any “all boys do xyz” myths. And since then, I’ve come around to realize that sometimes the things people say about boys are the undeniable truth. Such as… Boys are all about bodily functions There’s {Read More}

I remember being so afraid. (A birthday story.)

Nora Jane, You are now nine years-old. Nine, if you’re not aware, is a bonkers age. (For me, mainly. I’m sure you’re perfectly fine with it.) I remember nine. I remember arranging my prized collection of porcelain dolls by height and dress and general interest- you know, the collection you inherited and now arrange by height and dress and general interest? I remember watching ‘Quantum Leap’ (a wholly brand-new show) with your Pop and how both of us agreed it {Read More}

You Are. (A love letter to Susannah Mae.)

Oh my Susannah sunshine. You are so much (and getting so much more by the day). And on this day, this awesome day… You are a hand on the hip, an eye roll comedic enough to keep you out of trouble, and a muttered aside that Vaudeville would’ve killed for. You are first in line for the mechanical bull– and a bolstering crossing of yourself followed by a whispered, “You’ve got this.” (And you did. And, in that moment, you {Read More}

#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}