A lazy morning
A crumbling quiche
A late morning momosa
A kiss from Husband
A visit from Mom
A card from Toddler
Sweet barley kisses from Baby
The sun is shining
The girls are smiling
No complaints here
Happy Mother’s Day!
There are twenty-four hours in each day. There are 168 hours in each week. There are 8736 hours in each year. There are, on average, 672,672 hours in each lifetime.
So what?
The so what here matters. Our days, our weeks, our years, our lives, are made up of hours. And how we spend these ho
I admit it: Yesterday's post was a bit heavy. And that makes sense. Its words fell from a heavy place. I didn't mean to be overly dramatic, or cryptic, or alarming. I just meant to say that I went through something big, and hard. That I stepped out of my own mind and acted. That I helped someone
Two weekends ago, I saw three movies! Please note that I do not like exclamation points, but I feel that one is warranted in the foregoing sentence because, prior to said weekend, I have maybe seen a total of three movies in the past three years. (Cheerio, parenthood!) Well, that's a bit of an e
In case you missed the memo, I'm pregnant with my third child. And I'm a glorious mixture of anticipation and apathy and anxiety. (Yes, these things can commingle. Trust me.) This pregnancy's been interesting so far. Familiar and yet new terrain. So much of this makes sense, but so much is start
Since publishing my first novel Life After Yes last May, I have been asked the same question over and over: How autobiographical is the story? And even though I've had plenty of time to come up with a good and satisfying answer to this one, I tend to bumble my way through my response every time.
Little Girl,
Yesterday you turned six months old. A half year. This is impossible, isn't it? Wasn't it yesterday that you made your debut in that dimly-lit labor and delivery room? It was a Sunday morning. I realize something now. Sundays have always been tough, soggy days for me, days laced
Last week, Middle Girl contracted Pink Eye. When I told her we had to go to the doctor to get checked out, she was not happy. Unlike her big sis who happens to adore visiting the pediatrician, Middle Girl is decidedly not a fan. That said, she was a brave babe and we went. Our visit was quick an
Usually, I pick where we go for date night. But last night, Husband took charge and made us a reservation at a new Italian restaurant in our neighborhood called Joanne. The restaurant happens to be owned by Lady Gaga's parents and named after the singer's late aunt. Cool.
Our reservation was