Remarkably self-aware

Remarkably self-aware

In the middle of a spontaneous walk that ended up being admittedly too ambitious, foolishly close to lunch time, and with a stroller that was much too small to be of any help, Thomas decided he was done. He stopped, laid down in someone’s yard and yelled, “I can’t walk, Inna go ni-night!” I did

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Bey-ducation

Bey-ducation

Occasionally Mary says things that raise my eyebrow. Things like,  “I can’t play soccer because girls don’t play soccer.” Or. “I wish I could be a scientist, but I’m a GIRL.” I try to be redirect these comments and encourage her, and I try to not feel too bad. After all, I AM her main

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Blue on blue on blue on blue

Blue on blue on blue on blue

Both of my boys were born with slick bald heads, and eventually grew shaggy blonde hair. Both of my girls were born with the slightest bit of brunette fuzz. We’ll have to wait a while to see if Anna’s hair grows into spiral curls like her sister’s, but I think it’s already safe to say

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The butt of their best jokes

The butt of their best jokes

I’m slowly coming out of the general malaise of pregnancy and newborn exhaustion. With that, I’m doing everything I can to run a tighter ship at home, and reverse some bad (lazy) habits we’ve fallen into. No, my kids are not wearing matching clothes. Yes, the pumpkins I put on the porch back in October

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