I don’t know why, but I always feel cliche saying I’m thankful for family on Thanksgiving. Because that’s what everyone says. I’d like to be more original. Profound. But what else is there? I’m thankful for high-speed wi-fi? For drive-thrus? That I’m raising three children after dishwashers were invented? Ok, those are valid. But what is more profound
The other day I was reading with David and I put my arm around him and said, “David, do you know Mommy loves you so much?” He looked up at me and replied, “But, Mommy. Sometimes you say…you say…you say that…” He started to stutter as he searched for the right word. I held my breath; I wasn’t sure
Me, talking to Tom: Did we decide we want to have P-I-Z-Z-A for dinner? David: Mommy, did you just say “pizza” in letters?
Thomas is six months old, and I can hardly believe it. Six months is when things start to change, it’s the edge of when your baby becomes something entirely different. They start to eat solids, sit up, and soon he will crawl. In no time my sweet little ball of sunshine will be a mobile,
[Psst: If you’re planning to shop ThredUp, use my referral link and we’ll both get a $20 credit: http://www.thredup.com/r/PBHKWD] ————- After I wrote THIS post about cleaning out my closet and sending a bunch of stuff off to ThredUp, a few people asked me to write about my experience. Since I don’t get too many post requests,
Do you know any babies who do not want to be held all the time? Cuddled, snuggled, toted around on Mommy’s hip. And babies should be held all the time, especially the giggliest, wiggliest, chubbiest, smiliest ones. But there are chores to do and laundry to be put away. And there’s preschool, a quick stop at the
I don’t often give parenting advice here, but Thomas asked me to tell you about this. Give your babies a chicken bone. A chicken bone, cooked and stripped — it’s nature’s teether. All my babies have loved chicken bones because all babies love chicken bones because, what’s not to love? It has flavor, it’s the perfect shape for holding and
If anything is harder than being the middle child, it’s being two years old. Mary Virginia is both. And only because she hasn’t learned the phrase (yet) I’ll say it for her: IT ISN’T FAIR! At two, she isn’t a baby anymore, but she’s not quite one of the big kids. But, because we do
For some reason I’m lazy and unprepared when it comes to every aspect of my life except the holidays. We have a “Happy Halloween” banner in our dining room, pipe-cleaner spiders lurking around the house, and I ordered Mary Virginia’s dress on September 1 because I could not wait another day. Technically, I made David’s
I haven’t been blogging as much in the past few weeks. This website has taken a back seat, as have replying to emails, wiping my countertops, and putting away laundry. And when David says, “Watch me!” and then jumps on the couch and does a somersault the exact same way he’s been doing for a solid year, I