All has been quiet. A small boy with a fistful of action figure cake toppers weaves between piles of folded towels, sheets. It’s laundry day. It’s been laundry day for six years over here, is what a girlfriend said to me recently. (Same.)
Few will be surprised to hear I take baby proofing as simply as they come.
Dear friends: If you’ve visited this space before, you’ll know I’m in Year 12 of professional blogging. A decade of hitting publish, hovering over delete, googling the correct usage of “past” and “passed” (still can’t nail it). Twelve years. This makes me an Internet teenager, and can I be frank here? I’m feeling it. I’ve
Ed Emberley on loan from the library; thumbprint hedgehogs, caterpillars, fish. // Arnold Loechner Mouse, the field mouse Ken trapped in the garage who was accidentally domesticated after a satisfying meal of shredded carrots. (He’s since been set “free” in the woods, was last seen frolicing through Bee and Ken’s legs in a shimmering patch
“You have almost three dollars!” I tell her. We are sprawled on her bedroom floor amidst blocks and books, stuffed animals and blankets. Loose change is stacked into tidy piles at our feet – quarters, nickels, dimes, pennies – mountainous treasures to my 4-year- old daughter, Bee. “I am ready to spend it, Mom,” she
Cardboard box rockets. // When your mother-in-law visits and helps with the laundry while secretly questioning whether or not the newborn is offered enough visual stimulation – boom – you get an impromptu baby mobile in the dining room. // My new byline for Hello, Dearest friends. // A tiger mask attempt for Halloween turns
‘A wooden doll gone headless, a fork and a slew of dominoes walk into the bar…’ In other words, Bee has learned the art of “cleaning up.” // This man takin’ the night shift, over and over, without complaints. #MarriedUp // The current state of my nightstand, and my friend Shannan’s book that’s been working