Take THAT, Worry. We are FINE.

Emergency rules, you guys. Our family has them.

I don’t know. Maybe we honed them from necessity during all the times my kids have taken a wall to the head or embedded a sewing needle in the leg or lost a fight with the monkey bars — stitches and surgeries and breaks, oh my — or maybe we developed them because I’ve always been a freaker who can’t stand emergency suspense. Go ahead and share the spoilers, I think. It’s OK; I need to know how this ends. It’s hard to say, really, whether the freak-out chicken or the emergency-rule egg came first, but, regardless, we have rules...  read more

We are War and Peace.

I married a man whose parents are Quaker pacifists. My dad’s a former Marine. Pretty sure God was messing with us when Divine Intervention (aka, my desire to spend a summer at the beach, baby!) put us together. Greg and I call ourselves War and Peace. I get to be War, soooo… good times all around.

Greg’s away overnight. He and the Marine took our little boys camping along with my cousin who was raised by my peacenik hippie aunt and uncle. They’re the ones who taught me about skinny dipping, Adam’s peanut butter and daisy chains, and they had the full color, illustrated version of The Joy Sex on their bottom bookshelf right where a 10-year-old might discover it. I owe those peacenik hippies a lot, is all I’m saying. ...  read more

On Silence and Cacophony and Things That Soothe the Soul

I woke up yesterday morning to silence which happens to me exactly never and made me think that there was a strange and awesome aligning of the planets… or that kind, gentle faeries came in the night to cast magical, sleeping mommy spells… or that I suddenly went blessedly deaf… or that the Rapture happened and I didn’t make the cut and the apocalypse has been terribly misunderstood and only ever wanted to come in peace, after all. ...  read more

A Double Measure of Grace

Once upon a time, there was a little girl.

Her name was Aden, and she was very beautiful and very, very naughty…


Aden means Beautiful in Hebrew and Fiery in Celtic. And I never, ever, ever believe people when they say names don’t mean anything, because, Hello, my Beautiful and Fiery girl!

Oh, Miss Aden, how I love you. ...  read more

The Mouse and the Mommy Cycle

I stuck my mascara wand in my left eye this morning because my left eye back-talked me and violence is always the solution.

Now, technically, my left eye didn’t say anything out loud, but that’s only because it lacks the means to do so. The way it was blinking all passive-aggressive at me just really yanked my chain, you guys.

You might think I’m overreacting, but right after I popped my left eye a good one, it popped me right back with a Super Blink. You know the one. The extra watery, blurry, deep eye crunch? The one that paints your entire eye socket and cheek with wet mascara? The one that says, “Oh, yeah, lady? You think you can poke me with your mascara wand? Well, take this,” and leaves muddy tracks down the side of your face just to make a point? ...  read more