Over the last couple of weeks every time I ask a fellow parent how social distancing is going, I get pretty much the same response. “Well…you know…I’m…surviving?” they answer, usually with a long sigh. In an effort to help all those suffering from what I call “the quarantine blues” (myself included) I’ve put together a list of ideas that will
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Last Thursday I boarded a plane headed for Atlanta where two of my college friends picked me up so we could make the drive to Nashville. There we met up with two more college friends and spent five days eating, drinking, talking, eating some more, and not tending to the needs of small people.1 It was great. It really was.
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We’ve had kind of a rough summer so far. I’ve always said three-and-a-half is the hardest age. Magda Pecsenye of the blog Ask Moxie put it best, in my opinion: I say often that age 3.5 is the nadir of humanity, and I’m not actually joking. This age is demoralizing and confusing to the parent, because the child just can’t
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Day 1 So this little nugget arrived in the wee hours of the morning. I try not to call things “the best” because I feel like it minimizes old memories and sets you up to never surpass new ones. But I’m totally fine calling last night the best Saturday night of my life. Honestly. It was perfect and simple. I
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I remember the moment a few years ago, as one of my daughters was going through a health crisis, when I felt like I was falling apart. Harsh words coursed repetitively through my head… I am not cut out to be a mother! I am not cut out for this job! As I heard myself screaming this, I had a
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June 17th was supposed to be our son’s last day of school. But instead of spending the day having extra recess and signing yearbooks, most of the kids in our local public school systems stayed home. A crazy storm blasted through Central Virginia the night before, uprooting trees, knocking out power, and setting our city and the surrounding areas into
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When I was very young, I heard that when workers finished painting the Golden Gate Bridge it was time to begin painting it again–that it was a never-ending task. That fact boggled my mind. I remember having a hard time wrapping my brain around the idea that there was no actual completion of the job; it went on forever. And
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Once upon a time–eight years ago, if you’re counting–I was a glowing fairy princess. At least that’s what it seems like when I look at old pictures. Such smooth skin. Such bright eyes. Such a defined jaw. Back then, in addition to being in my 20s, I wasn’t a mother. Sleep was bountiful, stress and worry were minimal, and I
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Since last spring, we’ve been on quite the KonMari kick in our household. Well, to be more accurate, my husband has been on quite the KonMari kick, and when he’s on a kick, it’s best to just go with it. For those of you not familiar with KonMari, it’s shorthand for a method of decluttering–and then organizing–your belongings, as described
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I’ll never forget the first time I got a truly negative, punch-in-the-gut comment on a parenting article I wrote. “I feel really sorry for your son.” Other writers who share their parenting experiences online have gotten much worse than that, but…dang. The internet can be a rough place for parents. That constant influx of information and opinions (and, with those,
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