Eight?! Oh, Jasper Callahan, on Sunday you will be eight. That doesn’t seem like a real number when applied to you. Why? Well, for starters I think we can all agree that I have real, real brain/heart block when it comes to my children, and secondly, “eight” is the age I still apply to Nora in my mind’s eye- keeping you at a firm four. And that’s the problem, isn’t it? My darling third, even on your birthday I can’t {Read More}
12: Yep, a milestone.
October 29, 2021 By Leave a Comment
Hey Nora… Today’s your 12th birthday. You know, back in my day of flannels and Doc Martens and Nirvana-listening, “12” wasn’t a crazy milestone. Well, joke’s on me, because your outfit of choice usually involves a flannel, and today you got the prized Doc Martens from your grandmother that you’d been pining over. (Side note- If you had told me in 1992 that my mother would be buying my firstborn combat boots in sixth grade? You’d have to revive me {Read More}
You are 7. (A post for my tiniest/not-tiny baby.)
December 19, 2020 By Leave a Comment
Dearest Jasper, you are 7. You are 7. You are the tail-end of many, many things. Birth order. Opinion-asking. Seat preference. This is unfair to you, because- the last time I checked- you had very little say in how and when and why you were born, and also how we ended up choosing the Honda Odyssey’s particular layout of seats. It is also perfectly fair, because you are the happiest little guy with whatever you get to eat and whomever {Read More}
Eleven years (of being surprised every single year).
October 29, 2020 By Leave a Comment
Hi Nora, Hey, happy birthday! You are 11. ELEVEN! (What kind of mother sits and marvels at the age her child is turning every single year, like the passage of time isn’t a constant and, well, trackable thing? Your mother, that’s who. Get used to it, kid. Among the plethora of things that ain’t my forte, emotional counting is among the worst.) This blog post feels different than any I’ve written in this space in the entirety of its 12 {Read More}
9: A post for Suzy, one of her very own.
October 4, 2020 By 1 Comment
(…Because when you’re the middlest middle who ever middled, “your very own” anything is cause for celebration.) 9: Dearest Susannah, Usually, I write you an open bloggy letter of sorts on your birthday. Usually, it’s filled with musings on the past year, hopes for the future, and high fives for our present. Usually, a year like the one we’ve had is not our “usual.” But wait- before I get completely ahead of myself- happy birthday, dear Suzy, happy birthday to {Read More}
Chicago to the Berkshires, Part 1: Goodbye, first home
July 16, 2020 By 2 Comments
(Today marks three weeks since we arrived at our new home in Massachusetts. More on THAT to come, because hoo boy. But for right now, a surprisingly/not super surprisingly hard one to write. I began this post the week before we moved but had to stop because…I had to stop. Stay tuned. Thanks in advance. Buckle up. Keep hydrating. And, you know, wear a mask.) An open letter to my home: Hey home, I know I’ve said some things in {Read More}
Five years later.
March 30, 2020 By Leave a Comment
Hey, Dad. Ready for this? It’s been five years since you left us. FIVE YEARS. I assume that you’re aware of this through the ether- but I’m not exactly sure about how time works where you are. (That said, I’m not exactly sure about how time works where I am. Long story.) Dad, when you died, I thought I was the bravest I had ever been- had ever had to be. Working on your obituary, pulling together your collection of {Read More}
We’ve got news.
March 25, 2020 By Leave a Comment
And our news is… We’re selling our home. Packin’ up and movin’ out. Hittin’ the trail. (Abusin’ the metaphors.) We’re beginning the end of our time in this impossibly gorgeous (and gorgeously impossible) house. But before we get into that, let me explain a little bit about where we’re going. And why. (The “how” is delightfully nebulous.) So. I moved to Chicago in the summer of 2002- close to 18 years ago- and P.J. has been here for almost 20. {Read More}
