You guys gotta see this! Ken calls. Bee and I are dancing in the laundry room, a morning ritual we’ve fallen into. We play this song, and another, still another, she twirling her stuffed puppy or baby hedgehog or that odd Halloween decoration she’s been sleeping with. Me moisturizing my elbows, applying concealer. Mascara. Coming!
In case you missed it on Instagram… last week, i tried to text my mother in law while cooking omelettes and knocked the salt mortar all over the floor. we’ve been fishing himalayan grains out of our toes for days. both dogs are after the floorboards like wild deer to an abandoned salt lick. the
How’s Bee adjusting? I mean, it happened so fast! Did she feel prepared? Has she regressed? Is she acting out, seeking attention? These are the questions we receive from friends and family for a month. I answer truthfully – She’s been wonderful, so very excited to have a brother – but then I wonder if
The contractions begin. Bee is dressed for ballet. I’m adjusting her leotard, securing her loose blonde waves into a bun, clip to one side. A kiss on the cheek. The other 4-year-olds are skipping into class, bumbling into each other with excitement, energy. Trying to be graceful, trying to look tall. See you in a
There’s a 4-year-old in my house. It’s an odd thing. She climbs counters to fill her water glass, peels pistachios on her own. Yesterday, I caught her washing her hands unprompted after a bout with sidewalk chalk and I thought, Oh. This is what they were talking about. They. The women who pull you aside
A real thing I said to a girlfriend last year: I think I’ll wait until next year to start volunteering with Bee. Toddler help is sometimes not helpful, you know? A real thing Bee said to me this year: Mom, can we make our neighbor Bob some lunch and take it over to his house
Oh, you homeschool? my barista asks. Bee and I are camped out in a corner sofa working on a reading lesson, a flaxseed bar in her hand, a lavender latte in mine. For now! I say. For now! is always my answer, my standard go-to. After all, this is preschool we’re talking, so the stakes
Here’s the funny thing about time, for us. We weren’t given a lot from the gate, or at least, it hadn’t seemed like it. As a new bride, I was determined to make the most of what could perhaps be a short marriage. We packed sweaters and books into Rubbermaid bins, stuffed our pillows in