Posts from the “Love” Category

Loving the Minutes

Posted on June 10, 2014

This weekend we worked hard. Our garage had been a disaster from the long winter, into kitchen renovation, into spring, into lacrosse etc. Every day we’d come home through the garage and feel defeat at its state. Saturday we attacked it as a family, carting everything out (Thanks, Houzz), sweeping, dusting, and then reorganizing before loading some of it back in the garage.

We earned a Sunday of whatever we wanted; we chose a trip to the lake as a family. It was perfect, not too hot, not too buggy. Briar discovered bits of charcoal and proceeded to leave the island a message.

Thank you


We watched turtles sunning on the rocks until the mama turtle said it was time to go. Finley and Briar sat together long after the turtles were gone. I inhaled the harmony and whispered a soft thank you to the lake.


Avery carved out some time alone, balancing a rock on her head and chanting. Every so often she’d pop one eye open and chuckle in my direction. We laughed together as she campily fluttered her fingers into her idea of a meditative pose. If there is a happy baby yoga pose, on Sunday there was a content mama pose too.



Sean dove into the lake as the girls watched and squealed. He swam beneath the water and I watched the stripes of his suit grow fainter and fainter. I thought how lucky I was that life managed to lead me to this lake-loving guy and then to this family.


I followed the girls laughter as they turned from the jumping rock to meet Sean at the water’s edge. They placed a hand on one another’s back and murmured with each step, “Don’t run. Do the buddy system. Careful.” They looked like popsicles.


Later I tried my hand at paddling on the mini-kayak we bought the girls. I’m nearly 30 pounds over the recommended weight, it teetered ominously and quickly took on water. Trying to balance with the threat/promise of a cold dip was exhilarating. The girls called out, “Go, Mom!”


I laughed as I rounded the point of the island and was hit with a rush of waves. The girls and Sean whooped and hollered at my shaky progress. I balanced the paddle in my lap and then tipped as I tried to scoop the water out.


I came up laughing without losing my Fountain Square Outfitters hat. The water felt every bit as good as I imagined. Treading water I closed my eyes and bobbed in the channel. I heard the waves tap dancing on the rock and the trees rustling in the breeze. I let out a happy shout.



They all cheered and then the girls swam to my rescue. “Mom, mom! We’re coming. We’ll save you. We. Will. Save. You!!”


Later, after we made a campfire and roasted marshmallows for s’mores we packed up the boat to make it home early enough to not push Sunday-play too far into Monday-prep. No one complained or asked for more time, we were sated one and all. Finley helped Sean as we headed into dock.


Avery snapped a few pictures, all of which I cherish, but this one encapsulates the sentiment of the day—arms wrapped in love and a laugh on the tip of my tongue.



Our life is not uncomplicated and it isn’t often that there isn’t something that I could find to complain about, but I’m working on finding the thread of happy through the sticky. I feel so very lucky to have these moments.

The Ones That Stick

Posted on June 3, 2014

I am guilty, from time to time, of trying to be an architect of memories, thinking that if I arrange the art project just so or if I plan the adventure out with care, then I can slip moments in time in each girl’s heart that they’ll remember for the rest of their lives. I work at creating these moments like a puzzle, turning ideas in my mind, sorting options, and then putting my head down until I make the pieces fit. The weight of wanting, needing, to nurture memories can be tremendous. Every once in a while something happens and I am completely awestruck by how the girls are memory tenders themselves. “Hey mom, can you wake me up early to work on the…

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A Light Touch

Posted on April 12, 2014

  Sean and I wrote a post back in November, which we shared here a few weeks ago. It was a post that, as one commenter wrote, did not resolve itself. I’ve struggled with how, when, and what to respond with in this space. We knew we were running the risk of judgement, maybe even putting people off with touching on such a delicate topic.  I’ve been deeply humbled by the private messages that I have received from men and women who felt a connection to our words. Wisdom, regrets, anger, they all came through with unflinching honesty. Sean took serious heat in some of the comments on Huffington Post and even more in threads that grew on twitter. A few jabs came at me pretty hard…

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Same Window, New Views

Posted on March 23, 2014

I’ve read two house-related posts by Rebecca that have had me thinking a lot about marriage, family, and the houses that play the stage for both. The window up there in the picture is a storm window from our first house. It’s on the eastern wall of a treehouse that we built for the girls. It is brittle and yet it has endured more seasons than I ever will. It is a view and a reflection, the care that we took in saving it and the way that we gave it a new use, offer hope. We bought our first house late in the summer of 2003. We were newlyweds and had already lived in 3 rentals together in Framingham, Watertown, and Saratoga. To say…

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Making Passes and Taking Hits

Posted on March 16, 2014

This post is a first for me and I thought it needed a brief introduction. I usually keep marriage along the periphery of the stories I tell. The silos of parenting and life are not as concise as they can seem in storytelling, they aren’t silos at all; they’re brush strokes sharing space on one canvas. Marriage, two sides, a post in two parts—first, what you’ve come to expect here, my words and emotional take on something that happened; second, words from Sean, his perspective on the same thing. It’s personal and revealing.  Our kitchen is at the center of everything, not because of an open floor plan, or even because it’s “that place where everyone gathers,” our kitchen is at the center of everything because…

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