This weekend a friend stopped by and came to our door with a basketball under his arm. Before I even had a chance to say hello, Thomas looked at him and said, “HEY! That’s MY bas-at-ball!” Every basketball is Thomas’s basketball. Thomas loves basketball. If there are two things that mark him at this age they are:
This is one of the most simple, best ideas I’ve seen in a while, and we’ve had so much fun this summer participating. Ah, there’s one of the great things about this — anyone can participate. This project is easy, free, fun, inspires creativity, gets you outside, and encourages community. It does everything except fix
A few weeks I asked in an Instagram story if anyone thought it was maybe, um, a bad idea to eat a gigantic bowl of corn salsa. Like, is that the sort of thing that you regret later? SIDE NOTE: when Instagram debuted stories I hated them and boycotted them by not making any. Instagram
Nearly a year ago, after our vacation to Lake Anna, I mentioned that our trip started with a 9-1-1 call, and that I’d tell the story later. My plan was that I’d make a few appointments with specialists, and after a few weeks I’d have the space and information I needed to feel comfortable telling
Thomas needs a haircut. I’m balking because I love his beautiful hair. It usually looks tousled and sweet, but occasionally looks really messy and unkempt. I know, I realize the insanity of assuming a two-year old boy ever looks anything but messy and unkempt. But there’s a difference between cute toddler unkempt and feral toddler messy.
I love summer. It is, by far, my favorite season. I love the long days, bare feet, pool parties. I love Popsicles on the porch and burgers on the grill. I love not having to keep track of my kids’ coats. This summer started out with a giant WHOMP WHOMP otherwise known as orthopedic surgery coupled with
Today I’m twenty-one weeks, two days pregnant, meaning (even if the baby is born after my due date) I’m past the pregnancy halfway point. Except that this is my fourth pregnancy and I know that the second twenty weeks packs a very serious wallop. Thirty weeks should be considered the halfway point. At least. Except
In the past year or so David has become increasingly interested in creating. He loves to draw, color, paint, cut, glue, and everything else. I love watching him, in part because a few years ago he didn’t like any of it — coloring, using stickers, or even playing with Play-Doh at all. Anytime I brought out
If there is any silver lining to my thumb injury, it’s that we got to spend extended time with my mom. After my surgery my mom basically moved in with us. There was a whole battery of things that I simply couldn’t do (buckle carseats or life jackets, manipulate diaper tabs, lift Thomas in and
Eight years ago today Tom and I got married in the Blue Ridge Mountains. To celebrate, instead of following suggested tradition with a bronze gift, my mom and dad took our kids for a few days. We’ve never done this ever, never ever. Not even close. Everyone keeps asking what we plan to do with our