Baby, the one who’s almost-but-not-quite-fully-cooked, has simple needs. Right now.
Us other people, the ones who are almost-but-not-quite-fully-ready for baby, have simple needs, too.
One: a nickname.
Once I got over the hump of being afraid to actively think about baby, I quickly moved into needing to . . . → Read More: Baxter’s Berth (You know: Baxter!!!)
A few days from now marks the one-year anniversary of my Daddy’s glad morning, the one on which he flew away.
Some things about the last year have been very difficult; some things have been blessedly easy. We, my mom and sister and I, have figured it out as we went . . . → Read More: They Wrote These Things, and then She Wrote This Thing, and then I Wrote This Thing, and THEN THEIR PRESIDENT CALLED (and also — OS:S in the E-T on the 05/05/13)
I am occasionally a less-than-stellar mother.
I mean, it’s rare. Really, really rare.
And it’s almost always in the middle of the night when it happens.
Which would be great for you not being any wiser,
except for the habit I have of yelling “Hey! Look what a failure . . . → Read More: MotherSuch to the Rescue
In June, I put a photo of some cards from my father up in the header (this one, here). And then I never explained the photo. I had intended to. But it became one of a couple dozen unfinished thoughts of this summer.
* * * * *
Once . . . → Read More: Unfinished
When I was somewhere around the age of 14 or 15 or 16, my mother dropped me at the hair salon for my haircut appointment while she either waited outside or ran other errands–I can’t remember the part about what she was doing exactly. What I do remember is that I was going . . . → Read More: Notice To Prepare Your Complimenter
A few nights ago, The Child and I loaded into our car to head home from church. Before pulling away from the curb, I scrolled through the missed messages and emails that had accumulated on my phone while it had been silenced. Growing impatient and bored with my reading (and being anxious to . . . → Read More: Considering It: Sing About the Wheels
My paraphrased retelling of a retold-to-me conversation between The MotherSuch and her mother, The GrandMotherSuch, following our ultrasound last Thursday:
The GrandMotherSuch: How did their appointment go?
The MotherSuch: Good. They saw a gestational sac and a yolk sac.
The GrandMotherSuch (who had four children of . . . → Read More: The MotherSuch, The GrandMotherSuch, and The Sacs
I was in the kitchen all day yesterday. Except for when I wasn’t. But mostly I was.
Mincing, chopping, slicing, shredding, roasting, melting, stuffing, rolling. Drooling.
Turns out I have a lime juicer (squeezer?) thing. I didn’t realize (or remember?) I even had it, which . . . → Read More: Bury Me with The Beans from 2003
In honor of Mother’s Day this weekend, I could post something longish and heartfelt about how incredible my Mom, my MotherSuch, is.
About how she is the kind of Christian and wife and mother that I never knew I would grow up to hope I can be like.
About . . . → Read More: The OtherSuch Doesn’t Fall Far From The MotherSuch
The other day, I wrote about some of the things I have learned from my Dad. I would hate for my Mom to feel overlooked.
Mom! I’ve learned a lot of things from you, too!
Like about the therapy that is getting my hands dirty working in my own . . . → Read More: After Which Text I Nevertheless Asked If She Would Like To Childsit Tonight