Laugh lines should be funny, right? Or are they a misnomer, like “funny bone?” Either way, I was a little taken aback by this family photo taken at Easter. While I should be focusing on the fact that I have a beautiful, happy family, my eyes were instantly drawn to the collection of little lines around my eyes. When did this happen? Who is this person?
I never thought I would really care about the visible results of aging (I’ve got two kiddos, so I’m kind of over that by now). But this has me a bit befuddled. Should I embrace these new accessories? Start using serums like a mad woman? Start crying in hopes that they’ll reverse? I suppose there’s no turning back now, so I’ll just chalk it up to living a full life, …
I took a drive with my oldest daughter tonight to spend some special one-on-one time. (She revealed to me today that she didn’t want baby sister anymore, and I should put her out in the flower garden.) We drove several miles away to a low-water bridge, and poked around along the water. While there, I encountered the strangest thing: a crop of floating onions. They were growing on either side of the bridge, and appeared to actually be growing in the water, rather than having been thrown out there. I’m intrigued by this anomaly, and wonder if they’re common. I would love to hear from you if you have any ideas.
This is her "cheese" face.
Strange "floating" onions.
These were almost fully submerged.
This was the first one I noticed, which was the most …
One. Hour. Straight. 60 minutes of all-hell’s-broke-loose, demon-like, possessed screaming. That’s how long it took my two-year-old to finally give in to the fact that she wasn’t going to the park with no pants on. She writhed in my arms in her pink leotard, veins bulging, blonde ringlets soaked with sweat, and neck bloodied from where she’d scratched herself. This was the mother of all meltdowns.
And while I may look back someday and laugh, right now my heart is broken. My spirit is broken. No amount of soothing, diversions or reasoning could calm her down. She threw toys and clothes from her bedroom, and ran back down the stairs each time after I put her in her room for timeout. I stuck to the Super Nanny routine, and persistently, calmly put her back time and time again. Meanwhile, my 11-month-old …
Today, the girls and I were blessed to spend our time with an amazing woman, my Aunt Betty. She has been both my rock and my soft place to land for as long as I can remember. When things get all topsy-turvy, she’s always there with a spare bed, hot coffee, and the world’s best chicken soup.
We’re so close, in fact, that Anna shares her middle name, Lou. My father has always told me that I come from a long line of strong women, and I’m honored to pass this legacy on to my daughters. It’s funny, though, that I never fully appreciated all she’s been through until this season in my life.
She’s never really had what you’d call a traditional career. She’s never climbed any corporate ladders, or won …
Today was a magical day. The kind of day you savor long after it’s over, like licking greasy barbecue sauce off your fingers after nibbling a juicy rib down to the bone.
I was up at five, started a pot of coffee and scrambled up a batch of our very own free-range chicken eggs. I delighted in the sounds of Gungor on Spotify, and sat at the kitchen table with my husband, sipping coffee and enjoying adult conversation.
I had about another half hour to myself after he left for work, and both Anna and Erica were in fabulous moods when they woke up. Turns out the beginning of my post from yesterday wasn’t just a pipe dream after all.
We spent several hours in the morning working in our garden at my parent’s. The weather …
Much like I expected, my first day as a SAHM got off to a glorious start. I slept in late, then luxuriated over a cup of coffee while listening to the birds chirp “good morning” through the open kitchen window. I whistled a happy little tune while preparing a delicious, healthy breakfast for my darling daughters. A giggling sound floated down the stairs as Erica awoke, and Anna skipped down to breakfast with a smile on her face as warm as the April sunshine. (Ok, if you’re still reading along, thinking this is an accurate depiction of my morning, then you’re insane, or naive, or both.)
It’s a little early to tell what life as a SAHM (or WAHM, or whatever) will be like. I can tell you right now there’s one thing I’ll miss about …