Month: September 2013

A String of Minor Epiphanies

I had a string of minor epiphanies today. Yay, me! Here they are: 1. Bruises and bite marks on one’s upper arm bloom into an even more dramatic flower of purple, red, and blue the day after they happen. It’s like a fascinating rose garden growing before my eyes. An occupational hazard/rose garden. 2. Sometimes all you have to offer…

Pretty Much Craptastic

Memorandum: To the dad behind us in line today at the zoo playground on the fancy lighthouse-shaped slide: Thank you for being cool and understanding as I hustled my angry, kicking nine-year-old off the stairs and away from the toddlers who apparently were taking way too long for my son’s liking. To my sister: Thank you for trying to help…

Bite-sized Bitter Pills

I’m reading a book about a Lithuanian girl and her family who were taken by the Soviets and shipped to a work camp in Siberia during the Second World War. It is beautifully written, tragic, and heartbreaking. There are moments of great beauty and tenderness, but the story is too painful for me to tolerate all at once. It’s a…

Something is Rotten in the State of Denmark

Sometimes I think my children are hearing from my mouth something other than what I am saying. I’m speaking, but it either does not compute, or it is willfully disregarded and molded into an amalgamation of words which better suits their liking. Am I talking English? Do you hear what I am saying, people who live in my house? I’ll…

A Little Off the Top

One of my children has a deep-seated fascination with the hair clippers. Ditto with Jeff’s shaver. Completely obsessed, he is. We used to keep these things high up on a closet shelf so they were “inaccessible” to Jack (gold star if you guessed the right boy). But he schooled us shortly after that maneuver. He waited one day until I…

Enter Sandman

I’ve got bedtime on the brain. This is probably because a) I’m sleep deprived, and b) I don’t even know what I was going to say next. Seriously, I’m so tired. Bedtime at our house is not something we mess around with. We honor it. We fight for it. We believe in it. Bedtime is our sanity. It is that…

Ode to Mom’s Pot Roast

Today I made a huge, ambitious dinner on a regular old Monday night. There was pot roast, mashed potatoes and gravy, vegetables—the works. It was your typical Sunday dinner. Except that it was not Sunday, and my big, amazing dinner wasn’t as amazing as my mom’s or my MIL’s Sunday dinners. Notably, I didn’t make fluffy, warm rolls to round…

Sunday Tantrums: Mine & Jack’s

Today was one of those Sundays when Jack went ballistic just as the bishop began giving a talk on….something. I don’t know the topic, as everything became all shrieky and loud and we were all “abort!” The things to know about Jack and his church tantrums: 1. They come on fast. One minute he is quietly eating smarties and pulling…

Won’t You Be My Neighbor?

Tonight I took my children to the block party in the pocket park. This is news for the following reasons: 1. I took them by myself, without husband or helper, which is generally accepted foolhardiness. 2. We never attend neighborhood parties. This is because taking my kids to gatherings is like taking Curious George to a museum: you essentially wait…