Bee is both collector and crafter, wildly imaginative and unsurprisingly resourceful (sounds not at all familiar). Her desk lives in Ken’s office, and often, the pair can be found whiling away the afternoon in tandem, fully immersed in their own respective projects. In Bee’s world, Q-tips become fishing rods. Pom-poms become hedgehogs. To say nothing
I was never much of an outdoor kid. Once, I was gifted a Little Mermaid tent for which to encourage many-an-adventure in the grassy terrain, but instead, I opted to pitch it right over my bed to cozy up in my floral comforter with a dogeared copy of Matilda. (Bless those parents of mine.) Even
Bee and Ken took a quick trip to Florida last week, and upon returning, I asked her what her favorite part of the trip was. The mid-day ocean frolics? The spotting of a sand dollar? Sunsets with Grandma? The airplane snacks! she says with certainty before launching into a full-on recitation of the contents/flavors/exactness of
I’ve got a soft spot in my soul for new mothers, the first-time kind. The bewildered, shaky, anxious-ridden variety who keep one vigilant eye on the clock (when did the baby last feed?) and one distracted eye on the conversation at hand (sorry, what was that?). The ones who fear the nail clippers. The ones
There’s a tried-and-true tip I’ve often heard from seasoned married folks, one of which is guaranteed to keep arguments fair, gentle and in-the-moment (rather than relying on cheap shots and past scripts), and it is simply this: Avoid two words: (1) Always and (2) Never. There are a few obvious reasons here, one of which
“Put the baby in the center of the bed. Go outside; take five deep breaths. Come back.” This is the advice my midwife offers me as a 3-day old mother, the orders she gives after hearing my tears over the phone, the baby’s shrieks, the panic in my voice. My confidence in motherhood silenced by
And just like that, I’m a tea drinker. Listen, I’ve always wanted to be a tea drinker. My favorite people are tea drinkers, and they look so calm and effervescent just sitting there, steeping, lost in thought and glowy skin. And yet, coffee lured me into its black depths sometime in the thick of my
2am, the alarm rings. When you’ve got yourself a baby with boundless energy and a little girl with endless questions, 2am is sometimes your magic hour of silence, of writing, of work. While the two littles are tucked safely in their beds, I pad into the dining room for cinnamon tea and words. It is,