Jan 22 2017

The Space Between Baby and Boy

The Space Between Baby and Boy

We’re in it now, this space between baby and boy.

We’re teetering, delicately and precariously, a roller coaster in its graceful pause just before the plunge. It was a little rickety at first, climbing that steep, steep slope: Sleepless nights. Endless spit-up. Needless crying. I felt each click click click of the ascent. But for now, we are floating here, balancing above the next phase of your life.

With your sister, I didn’t realize it was coming. I just woke up one morning and she was a little girl. Somehow, in one dreamless night, her ringlets grew out, her face changed, her speech solidified. I didn’t know there was a space between until it was gone.

But with you, I recognize the signs. I feel fortunate that I can see it this time around, grateful for the opportunity to soak in every last minute of your babyhood. Continue reading

Oct 25 2016

Melissa and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Melissa and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Today was a DAY, you guys. Just an absolute day.

I’ve been meaning to write about the other four hundred thousand topics in my Blog Post Queue — which is obviously a very official space in a remote corner of my brain, where I carefully collect all the ideas that rush at me throughout the week and organize them into a giant heap and then place them in the Queue to die, because Peaches really needs a sandwich and Baby B is trying to see if the dog’s ears come off and I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to tend to those things first.

Right now, though, I have to abandon the Queue to talk about a regular ol’ day in the life, which is sometimes terrible, horrible, no good, and very bad, even when everyone seems relatively healthy and no bones appear to be broken.

Oh and also: this post is not pretty or polished or shareable. It’s more of a diary entry I guess, because sometimes writing stuff down is the only thing that makes a wild mind feel semi-tame, which is a big reason this blog was born in the first place.

So anyway. Even if I’m the only one who ever reads this, that’s okay. In fact, you probably SHOULDN’T read it, especially if you’re the least bit squeamish. And/or if you’re eating.

Seriously, fair warning: if you’re still with me, put down the chicken salad sandwich. Continue reading

Sep 22 2016

A Love Letter to Michigan

A Love Letter to Michigan

My beloved Mitten,

When I left last year, I knew, absolutely, I would miss you. Somehow I always understood that you are special — even as a child, even when my then-boyfriend-now-husband-who-is-from-Virginia called you “kinda flat,” even when I was nineteen years old and it was winter in Ann Arbor and I had to lean into a blizzard on the blustery walk to class. Even then.

There’s just something about you.

After so much time away, I got to spend the whole month of August as a guest on your soil — and I remembered all those somethings. I also noticed brand new somethings, because we’d been apart for so long that I was able to look at you with fresh eyes.

Of course, people say we sometimes don’t recognize the beauty of a thing until it’s gone, and usually when I hear clichés like that, I’m all Continue reading

Aug 25 2016

Well, That Escalated Quickly: Behind the Scenes of a Perplexingly Polarizing Post

Well, That Escalated Quickly: Behind the Scenes of a Perplexingly Polarizing Post

This is a post about irony.

Well, mostly. The last couple weeks have demonstrated that an alarming number of people are super confused when it comes to identifying the underlying theme of something (which makes the English teacher in me curl up in a ball and sob a little bit). So this time, I feel like maybe it’s important to be literal up front, to just come out and SAY what this post is about.

And since this is a post about irony, here’s your first ironic snacklet: my husband begged me not to write this follow-up. BEGGED. Continue reading

Aug 1 2016

I Cannot in Good Conscience Participate in the Love Your Spouse Challenge ...Well, not the way I'm supposed to, exactly.

<span class="entry-title-primary">I Cannot in Good Conscience Participate in the Love Your Spouse Challenge</span> <span class="entry-subtitle">...Well, not the way I'm supposed to, exactly.</span>

My marriage is not as perfect as yours.

Seven years and two kids later, Facebook has absolutely convinced me of this. Written declarations of true love are forever cascading down my feed: You are my soul mate, baby boo-boo sugar lips. My one true love. I would never want to spend this life with anyone else by my side. Our marriage gets better and better and better AND BETTER every single day. Love you. Love you SO MUCH. You are THE BEST. Smooches.

Sometimes I wistfully “Like” these statuses. Sometimes I cock my head and think, “Hold up. Didn’t she just tell people she’s secretly researching divorce lawyers?” And sometimes I cringe a little to myself, because yikes, there are several days when I’m not sure I could shout such things from the rooftops…and many when my husband might not shout such things about me. Continue reading