Dear Jasper, You are four months old. You’ve been here for four months. Here’s a little bit of what I’ve learned in that time: People love to tell Boy Moms that they have no idea what they’re in for. They question if you’re ready for the craziness of Boy after the apparent calm of Girl. (And J- you know your sis Suzy Zu. That fluffy-haired monkey suspended from the ceiling fan? In those moments it takes all that I have to {Read More}
Three Months Old. Time For Some Truth Bombs.
March 20, 2014 By 10 Comments
Dear Jasper, Yesterday, you turned three months of age. You and I have officially concluded what some folks like to call the 4th trimester. (Since I’ve always been rotten at math, I’m totally cool with that erroneous vernacular.) It’s appropriate, too, that around the age you’ve biologically been deemed fit to come out of the cocoon of my embrace (just the teensiest bit), Mother Nature has also given the (sort of) okay for the weather to ease up- which allows {Read More}
Two Months Old. And Off To College.
February 20, 2014 By 10 Comments
Hey there, Jasper- You’re two months old. Already. And finally. In some ways it seems like time is screaming past; mere seconds ago I was laughing at the knowledge of you in the recovery room and now you’re practically walking. (Okay, not really. But you’re clearly physically gifted- anyone can see that.) In other ways it feels like you’ve been here forever and always; in our hearts and faces and laps. The time spent with you since your arrival has {Read More}
A Recap And A Couple Of Handsome Men.
February 5, 2014 By 8 Comments
It’s Wednesday! Which, as everyone knows by now, means a mid-week recap! (I’m really gonna need some other people to start to doing this as well, here.) #helpstartatrendpeople #isuperhatehashtags So. Yes. Recap: Last Thursday, I compared and contrasted pictures of my children’s heads. I agree that I need help. That same day I busted out my blogtacular knowledge at The SITS Girls with a list of stuff you need to know for blogging awesomesauceitude. Monday brought a festive shout-out to the {Read More}
One Month Old. Slow Your Roll, Kid.
January 20, 2014 By 24 Comments
Hey Jasper, This is your Mom: you know, the blurry body pillow who smells vaguely of coconut oil and tortilla chips? Happy one month, slugger. I’d ask the cliched question of Where Has The Time Gone…but I totally know. By the time you and I came home from the hospital, it was Christmas Eve Eve…then Christmas and New Years came and went in a blur of foil wrapping paper and 2am feedings…then came the revolving door of relatives and best {Read More}
A Birth Story. Now With More Drugs!
December 23, 2013 By 24 Comments
Pals, as this is my third kid’s birth story, I thought I’d employ the technique of telling the tale in anecdote form. It’ll also be much more linear than anything my post-op drugged mind could otherwise manage. You’re welcome. December 19th, 2013: -I got roughly three hours of sleep the night before, what with anxiety, last minute stuff, and positively abdomen-crushing Braxton Hicks cramps. (But not labor, ha ha! Just fake labor!) -The surgery was originally scheduled for 2:30pm (meaning I’d have {Read More}
Nora Eats All The Sugar.
October 30, 2013 By 6 Comments
Remember how I was talking about what a good, adventurous eater Nora is? Thank God. Because this past month has been a tour de force of sugar. Between Susannah’s birthday, Nora’s birthday, P.J.’s birthday, Halloween parties, and Trick or Treat, it’s been a ridic month of sugar. Here’s a smattering of what she ate since this weekend (and I’m not even including pix of the opera cream cake and oatmeal choco cookies my mother-in-law brought to town): All I can say {Read More}
Nora Turns 4 & Keely Turns Mushy.
October 28, 2013 By 13 Comments
To My Darling Nora Jane, On your last eve of Threenagerdom, I’d love to tell you some marvelous things about yourself: You’re an adventurous eater; eggplant, blue cheese, mushrooms, anything Middle Eastern…but still look suspiciously at macaroni and cheese. (It’s pasta and cheese, Nora.) Despite your outward trappings of independence (locking the bathroom door, deciding just how your bangs and hair should fall- or be “stretched”), you still require that crazy beat-up Doc Bullfrog…inside out in a froggy ball…against your nose to sleep. {Read More}
