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An F in Home Ec isn’t an F in Motherhood

Posted on February 28, 2008

Details, they often fall to the wayside as I try to manage huge undertakings. Sometimes it doesn’t matter, other times like, say making a sweatshirt in seventh grade, they matter. A failure to address the details equates to an 28″ neckline on a crew neck sweatshirt (Thank you Jennifer Beals, for making that ok.) Other times the details are things like an over-the-top 1st birthday cake, still nothing that wounds me, but oh the judgement, “You mean you didn’t throw a big party?” and “She didn’t have a cake?” and my favorite, “Oh, there wasn’t a theme…wow.” Give me a break, I thought the breastfeeding for 20 months, the organic diet, the delicately laundered clothes and bedding and the exposure to books, music and…

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The knives were dirty

Posted on February 28, 2008

Fear not, I found another way to let the girls flirt with danger while bringing me shameless-home-with-my-girls-and-misbehaving-delight. This pet lobster lived at my office for three years, during which time there was never an occasion when I ever got the suction cup to, um, you know, suck on to any surface. Ever! And no, Avery does not say “shit”in the middle of this, when she says “shit” you totally know it, we made sure of that.

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I never said I was Grizzly Adams

Posted on February 27, 2008

Ok, so a wildlife expert I am not. I think it’s kind of a good thing because it means that I can get breathlessly excited about spying a turtle in the pond at the park or spotting a rabbit in a field. I was on the phone just now and something caught my eye out the window… “Oh my god. Oh. My. God!” I squealed to my coworker. “There’s, umm, there’s a, a, a hawk in my yard. Or an eagle, well not an eagle, but really maybe a hawk.” She was unimpressed but characteristically delighted by my propensity for being excited by what some might consider the mundane. “I am so taking a picture of that…winged creature. It’s in my backyard!” So, I’ll…

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Latte Elitist

Posted on February 24, 2008

Me: I’ll take a grande coffee light frappaccino. Him: Uhhhh…(long silence while his fingers draw big air circles over the register in search of the right button). What flavor? Me: Coffee. Him: (More air signaling and searching) What size? Me: Grande. Him: (Pained look followed by what was almost drooling, then a grunt and then this:) Kind? Me: Excuse me? Him: Kind? (Louder than the first time) Me: Frappaccino? Him: $3.67. Then the other barrista came over and said, “What is gonna be for huh?” Him: The light base. Her hand made wide, looping circles over the cups and then she glared at him. Her: Kind? Him: The coffee one. She glared at him. Her: Kind, not flavor. Him: Uhhhhh….frappaccino. Her: Kind? Him: Huh?…

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Ropin’ the Moon.

Posted on February 24, 2008

It plays in my head a little bit like a song, this concept of not knowing yearning before kids. I never knew what it felt like to want something with all of my being, to be consumed by the pursuit of something purely for the purpose of bringing joy to another person. I understood the things that would make me happy and I worked toward them, but I never persisted with the single minded focus that I do as I strive for my girls. Fixing the house, structuring my schedule, creating memories, they are all fueled by an unabated hunger to delight the girls. This isn’t to say that I indulge every whim, but when there is room for magic, opportunity for awe or…

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