You know when you’re at brunch and the waiter talks of their artisan jam? “It’s made from hand-picked organic cherries in Michigan, this tiny little farm off 96, and we infuse it with fresh mint from our herb wall over there and really, you’re not going to believe it. It’s divine. Trust me. Would you
For posterity, is all: Dear God, It’s me! Thank you for a wonderful day. Actually (Mom, can I say actually? – Yes, you can say actually), OK, actually, thank you for hedgehogs, too. I think they are just so funny when they sneeze. Please help me to sleep good. Thank you for my hair and
She: Calling them hand fives. I’ll have done something smart like remembering to switch the laundry or googling what hedgehogs eat (cat food, go figure?) and she’ll say, Great job, Mom. Hand five. It’s been arts and crafts, crafts and arts. There is a thin layer of glue smattering everything east of the office. I’m
Fear of mistakes. She gets it from me. Last week, during a reading lesson, we’re working on ‘meat.’ She says each letter’s sound, slowly, surely, and I tell her good job, let’s say them as a word now, let’s read it together. But I might get it wrong, she says. It’s ok, I say. Getting
Well, it’s just that the days are really, really long in the short kind of way. The dark by 5:30 way, the pent up energy way, the bouncing from walls way (her) and the silence, please way (you). The beauty of motherhood is that you learn to power through it. You do it because you
Last week, I ran into an older woman – 70, maybe 75? – in the ladies room and commented on what beautiful skin she had. It glowed, truly, with just the right amount of weathering that announced to the world, I have been places. I have seen things. These lines contain wisdom; my face is
I’ve been trying not to shoo her out of the kitchen. I’ve been trying to see meal prep as a learning experience, as an opportunity to teach her the beauty of nourishing others – both their hearts and their bellies. But then I glance at her hair in the egg yolk and see the raw
Toddler books. Some of them are nuts, Amen? Just yesterday, I plucked a ripe one from the yellowed oak library shelf and I flipped through the first few pages, then a few more, then finally the end and I still have no earthly intimation of the plot. There was a dinosaur and a cherry pie,