Owen is 28″ long, 20lbs., has two teeth and four on the way, crawls, is starting to sit up, claps his hands and laughs in response to his mother’s singing or to praise himself, has boundless amounts of joy only to be matched by his endless capacity for making noise, is terrified of any loud… Read More 7 months old and 3 years

Sometimes the lessons we teach our children are crucial to their safety, health, social skills, or to our own sanity. No matter how kind and goodhearted they are; they, just like their flawed genetic sources, are human and have the capacity to drive you to drink, swear, and say the most peculiar comments to get… Read More We don’t dance in the bathroom.

Owen turned six months old yesterday. He’s rolling, crawling (mostly the angry shrimp maneuver), trying to sit up, laughs easily, smiles frequently, loves to be tickled and cuddled, headbutts and kicks like a soccer player, gives open mouth kisses across your face with a sprinkler head action, strokes my face and chest with his hands… Read More 6 months

Sometimes I hear myself and others complaining, kvetching, and wonder if we’re all in a competition of suffering. As if the inconveniences and discomfort experienced as a parent are badges of honor and the more we suffer the better parent we are to our children, more dedicated than the next person, yet what does that… Read More Martyrdom of motherhood

Baby Owen sports a natural mohawk, signals he wants to nurse by smacking his lips and slapping my boob, gives open mouth sprinkler kisses that start at one cheek and end at your ear, pulls my hair and chirps “hi” at me at 4am, picks up my hand and holds it against his face while… Read More Assimilation of the sibling

Some Nora sayings as of late: Get off! (My least favorite.) I did, you be, is am. Uh-oh, spaghettio. (Note: She’s never had Spaghettios. Just a bad daycare experience that taught her this.) Ya’ aaare. (Meaning “I did”, ” I am.”) I a princess. You dah mama. It went beep-beep, beeee-yooop, reereeree…it did. You go… Read More “I love you EVERY DAY…even the weekend.”

Most of my childhood I felt as if the world was holding a secret from me and that once I was an adult all would be revealed. But that’s just one of the many cruel jokes of childhood though. Much like your first teeth, your first pubic hairs, your first fight, your first loss, or… Read More The secret

My husband and I greet each other in the morning with the pointless, yet empathetic, question of, “How did you sleep?” We have a five month old and a three year old, short answer: badly. We talk about the elusive sleep of the past like it’s a distant exotic land, a rare vintage of wine,… Read More Sleep is the new smack

The love I have for my daughter has changed me in ways I wouldn’t have predicted, helped me love myself, made me a better person, and caused endless turmoil. We tell her we love her, we give her one-on-one attention, we try to stick to routines and we only promise what we can make good… Read More Night and day.

I like to answer my own questions, even when they’re rhetorical. The winged movement of the protection hand comes out to aid, block, motion, and corral your children, spouse, strangers, and pets in all situations not just driving. People walk the way they drive and shop the way they parent. I always stay to the… Read More Parental phenomena

For years I’ve had people tell me my eyes are brown when I know they’re hazel. I use to argue with them. Now I just smile and forever avoid the person taking their misstatement as a sign of their assholedom and unworthiness of friendship. So when our son was born with hazel eyes (like his… Read More They’re hazel, dammit!