The Ostrich

Is it okay if I just hide in one of these for a while? One year ago this week, I sat next to my mother on a flight to London.  We were both wearing Ostrich Pillows -- these lovely squishy turbans that double as eye-masks -- that she'd picked up at one of those hipster-y travel stores, along with wildly unstylish flat, stretchy slippers.  Every time we made eye contact in we collapsed laughing at ourselves.  Then the lights went down and she slept, which she can do -- seriously, anywhere -- and I watched about fifteen movies, paced the aisles, and cursed that the eye mask caused all my fake ... [READ MORE]

Love is a Battlefield

Babygirl does not want your help. She does not want your help with her zipper.  She does not want your help pouring the milk.  She didn't ask for your opinion about whether those shoes are appropriate for school.  And she sure as hell doesn't want you brushing out the nest that is her hair in the morning. She wants many things: hugs, treats, your undivided attention at all times and it doesn't count if you're not watching me with both your eyeballs.  But if it's help you're peddling, you'd best move along, because she's not interested. Like right now, for example: I'm typing, and ... [READ MORE]


LittleMan and I announced our arrival at Mother-Son Scout Weekend by nearly killing some people and damaging Boy Scout property. In a move that would elicit more than a few "Oh, that was YOU..." comments in the ensuing 24 hours, we (and by we I mean, ahem, A Scout is Helpful) lost control of the steel wagon we had used to haul our two bags up a bumpy hill from the fairgrounds to the campsite, sending it rocketing back down the hill, scattering 7-year-old boys and their already-kind-of-skeptical mothers in all directions before it hurtled into a creek bed about ten feet deep. As I ... [READ MORE]


I took a vacation with the kids for a week this summer and it was wonderful but...touch-and-go. Not because of the sibling squabbling or the lack of personal space (I might have accidentally stepped on Babygirl three times in one day when she was following me around looking for some ATTENTION!).  Certainly not because of the ice cream afternoons and the beach battles and the fact that I actually let them spray me with the water guns for once.  Not because of the Hot Wheels bonus on every visit to the grocery store or Mommy's F---it burgers-every-day approach to meals. Seriously, for all ... [READ MORE]


On Sunday morning I woke to the swish-swish-tap-tap of Babygirl's mosey to my bedside.  I could feel her standing next to me, waiting patiently.  As I willed my eyes to open, still blurry and bleary in the dawn, she whispered, "Here you go, Mommy," and thrust something towards my face. I registered the smell of mint.  "What's that, Babygirl?" I whispered back. "Here, Mommy, look.  I ate all your gum.  But that's okay, right Mommy?" Suddenly I was focusing, confirming that the object in her hand was, in fact, an empty packet of Orbit gum.  "Where are all the pieces?" I asked. "In my ... [READ MORE]

The Agony, The Ecstasy, and the Exhaustion

I was browsing on Cup of Jo the other day, where I came upon this entry about the pros and cons of room sharing.  I am a former room-sharer, having bunked with my younger sister until age 12, when we moved house and got adjoining rooms.  My husband shared a room with his brother for about the same amount of time, until Big Bro started high school and needed his own space.  So we had no qualms about having our children share a room, at least for as long as we live in our current apartment (i.e., the foreseeable future). Okay, I lied a little bit just there.  We had a few qualms.  Enough ... [READ MORE]


Speed is relative.  I, for one, feel that the Christmas season has come upon us suddenly, with the holiday itself approaching at a ferocious pace, leaving me little time to prepare.  LittleMan, on the other hand, is mired in that special December quicksand reserved only for small children, wherein he wants nothing more than to sprint straight to the morning of the 25th, while all the dull grown-ups hold up the party. "Is it after this day?" he asks every morning.  In the peculiar syntax he has developed, "after this day" means "tomorrow."  So while yes, Christmas is, in fact, after this ... [READ MORE]