Recently I wrote age order posts about each of my children (David, Mary Virginia, Thomas) because, when I have time to think, I think a lot about my kids — about who they are and what they need as individuals, and about how they fit into and shape our family. Our kids are pretty close in
Over the weekend Thomas got his first fever. It wasn’t a horrible. It was just a 24-hour thing, flanked on both sides by fussiness and hold-me-all-day-ness. After two doses of acetaminophen and 72 straight hours of snuggling, he was back to his normal self. People often make comments about Thomas, that because he’s my third baby he
I rarely put on makeup these days, but when I do Mary Virginia is always underfoot. “Mommy, can I have lotion in my hair? Can I have deodorant on my belly? What are you puttin’ on your mouth?” If we’re going somewhere that requires more than me redoing my ponytail when we arrive, Tom and I team
Mary Virginia: Look Mommy! I’m twirling! I look like Cinderella! David: No, Mary. You look like Mary in a dress. Mary Virginia: Mommy, can I wear that alligator shirt? David: Uh, Mary, it’s not an alligator. It’s a dragon. Mommy: David, Mary Virginia is pretending. If she wants to pretend this is an alligator costume she can,
I was looking for Mariah Carey’s Christmas album on our AppleTV the other day, and Mary Virginia looked at the display of the album covers and asked, “Mommy, is that a picture of you?” Oh, my darling little sugar plum. Moments like this almost make up for last night when you smeared potatoes in the
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,