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
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?
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
Most mornings, David asks me how we’re going to spend the day. Often, he asks if we can go to the children’s museum. No, I tell him over and over. We aren’t going to the museum. Inevitably he asks why and I tell him the truth: Because Mommy’s afraid to go to the museum with
“Mommy, is there Target in heaven?” David asked me one morning. “Um,” I answered. “Well, David. The Bible doesn’t specifically say. But. I don’t think it would be heaven without Target.” We have conversations like that a lot. My kids love Target. Because when we go, they never know what we’ll leave with. And isn’t
There was a time in David’s life when he wasn’t a picky eater. He ate every single thing we put in front of him. Green beans! Butternut squash! Catfish! Tofu! I’m ashamed to admit I was smug. I gave myself credit for his palate. I had, after all, done everything right. Then one day David became