Few will be surprised to hear I take baby proofing as simply as they come.
Dear friends: If you’ve visited this space before, you’ll know I’m in Year 12 of professional blogging. A decade of hitting publish, hovering over delete, googling the correct usage of “past” and “passed” (still can’t nail it). Twelve years. This makes me an Internet teenager, and can I be frank here? I’m feeling it. I’ve
Ed Emberley on loan from the library; thumbprint hedgehogs, caterpillars, fish. // Arnold Loechner Mouse, the field mouse Ken trapped in the garage who was accidentally domesticated after a satisfying meal of shredded carrots. (He’s since been set “free” in the woods, was last seen frolicing through Bee and Ken’s legs in a shimmering patch
“You have almost three dollars!” I tell her. We are sprawled on her bedroom floor amidst blocks and books, stuffed animals and blankets. Loose change is stacked into tidy piles at our feet – quarters, nickels, dimes, pennies – mountainous treasures to my 4-year- old daughter, Bee. “I am ready to spend it, Mom,” she
Cardboard box rockets. // When your mother-in-law visits and helps with the laundry while secretly questioning whether or not the newborn is offered enough visual stimulation – boom – you get an impromptu baby mobile in the dining room. // My new byline for Hello, Dearest friends. // A tiger mask attempt for Halloween turns
‘A wooden doll gone headless, a fork and a slew of dominoes walk into the bar…’ In other words, Bee has learned the art of “cleaning up.” // This man takin’ the night shift, over and over, without complaints. #MarriedUp // The current state of my nightstand, and my friend Shannan’s book that’s been working
“And every day, the world will drag you by the hand, yelling, “This is important! And this is important! And this is important! You need to worry about this! And this! And this!” And each day, it’s up to you to yank your hand back, put it on your heart and say, “No. This is