A Lot of Things

Today’s parenting revelation is brought to you by Into the Woods. 

I think one of the things that makes this show so amazing is the plethora of characters with varying problems, so there is something for everyone to identify with. I personally have generally identified with the Baker’s Wife.

But there’s a new horse in this race. After 12+ years of listening to this show, I finally really hear, and understand, Jack’s Mother.

I wish my son were not a fool.*

I wish the house was not a mess.

I wish the cow was full of milk, I wish the walls were full of gold,

I wish a lot of things.

Get it, Jack’s Mother. I too wish a lot of things.

Which Woods character do you most identify with?

*I don’t think my son is a fool. He’s just three.

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Three years

This kid is 3 years old today, and I can hardly believe it.

Going through the newborn days again right now with H is bringing up all the memories of B’s early days. He was so little, and scowly, and precious. I remember how we spent so much time taking pictures of him and loving on him and gazing at him while he slept. (We also watched a lot of tv, since he slept a lot, unlike some other newborns I know.)

He is turning into such a little boy. Yesterday during his bath I told him I’d get him a certain toy if he could use his bath crayon to draw a circle – and he did it, no hesitation. He adores his baby sister: I found him in our bed with her this morning, tucked in. He wakes up every morning with a huge smile on his face. He loves the alphabet, counting, animals, books, and airplanes.

Happy birthday, my firstborn! I’m so proud of you. You are so special to me!

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The Swimming Lesson

My poetry class is almost over – thank goodness because I am barely hanging on by my fingertips here, having just had a baby 11 days ago. My 11-day-old baby is deep into a growth spurt or cluster feeding or something, because it feels like she is awake all night and is eating 24/7. Which is great. The eating, not the up all night part.

ANYWAY. Class is almost over. We’re into the “revision” weeks of the course which is good, because I don’t have to start from scratch with poems anymore. I revised this one last week:

The Swimming Lesson

Light shimmers on the water
Arms shimmy indecorously
And previously chubby legs, growing stronger, flail furiously as I

Laugh with him. We’re slippery and cool.
He wriggles, slips away from me—
My fish of a son is sprouting fins before my eyes.

So I do the impossible: let go of him!
His mouth opens in an O of delight
And proud, terrifying glee bulges out his hazel eyes,

Which are so much like mine.
He is my miniature, my copycatfish.
I am flooded with overwhelming love for him. He and I

Are both buoyed by five feet of water,
And despite the thirty years between us,
We are, for the first time in his short life, seeing completely eye to eye.

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Life lessons via graham crackers

This is one of those “You know you’re a mom (or parent) when…” moments.

So I was at a doctor’s appointment the other day, and while I was waiting, they were like, “Did you eat this morning?” And I thought about it and said no, and they said, “We have crackers and peanut butter, do you want some?” And I was like, “Yeah I do!”

So the nurse brought me these two little single-serving peanut butters with a plastic spoon, and two single-serving packets of graham crackers. And I was like, This actually looks really good. So I ate one serving of each, and then I thought, You know, B really likes graham crackers, and this is a very convenient individual serving size, I should probably save them for him. I’ll just eat the other peanut butter with this spoon.

And then I thought…Why am I saving this for him? This is for me, for a reason, and he doesn’t care if I don’t give this to him. He’ll never even know. Plus, he just eats crackers all day long. And not off-brand graham crackers. He gets goldfish and stuff. This is not a thing. I don’t have to give this to him. I’m going to eat this.

(By the way, this is all pragmatic – not out of malice. I don’t blame B for my weird ideas.)

So I opened the second package of graham crackers, set it on my knee to open the peanut butter…and it promptly slid off my slippery stretchy pants and onto the floor where all the crackers shattered.

And I thought, Touché universe. I have been reprimanded for my selfishness where graham crackers are concerned. And then I ate the peanut butter with a spoon.

And from that day forward, she shared everything with her children.

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Once in a Blue Moon

There’s a blue moon tonight! It hasn’t happened since 2012 and isn’t scheduled to happen again until 2018. (It’s weird to say the moon is scheduled, like a dentist appointment, but you know what I mean.)

The internet (specifically The Guardian) tells me that while it’s commonly accepted that a “blue moon” is the second full moon in a calendar month, farmers actually used it to refer to the “third full moon in a season containing four.” Which sounds way less special.

As always happens to me when I find out there’s something special about a particular day, I have a sense that I should celebrate this somehow. Maybe I should do something I only do once in a blue moon. But what?

  • In an effort to cross something off my to-do list, I could purge the freezer. (That doesn’t happen too often.)
  • To relax, I could watch a movie with Drew, with our phones in the other room. (That just sounds like looking for an excuse to watch a movie.)
  • We could eat something special for dinner. (But that requires thinking of something special, and then obtaining/preparing it, and it’s already almost 5pm.)
  • I got it. I just got it. I could go to bed at like 8:30. That’s perfect.

Happy Blue Moon! Zzzzz….

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A Sticky Situation

I kept getting stuck behind this truck today, and I was absentmindedly reading the bumper stickers, thinking, This is why I don’t get bumper stickers, because I really don’t know what I would want to use to showcase my personality to all the drivers around me. Then I realized that this person is kind of the exact opposite of me.


I couldn’t get the bumper stickers to all show up well, so I’ll just tell you what they are. Counter clockwise from top left:

“Hunt with your kids – not for them”

“I’d Rather Be Fly Fishing – Rock Creek Fisherman’s Something, Clinton, MT”

“My Labrador is Smarter Than Your Honor Student” (secretly, these stickers really bug me – it might be the remnants of the honor student left deep inside)

“Testicle Festival, Rock Creek Lodge, Montana – I Had a Ball!”

See what I mean? Opposite of me.

On the other hand, choosing the assortment of adhesives that is going to define you to the world is not an easy task.

You can go political:






Family-focused while also making it clear that you have a sense of humor:





downton abbey

Literary (feel free to make this as obnoxious or not as you like):


Showing school spirit or other pride:

uc davis

Or very obscure:


So you can see it’s hard to figure out what stance you want to take. As a high schooler, I would have gone half literary, half weird pop culture. As a college student, I would probably have gotten more obscure. I hate to default to Baby on Board now. But I guess that’s why I have nothing identifying myself to the world at large. Maybe I would do better to describe myself in terms of what I am NOT: I don’t hunt, I don’t love my lhasa apso, I wouldn’t rather be shopping, my other car isn’t a motorcycle, etc.

I probably WOULD use a bumper sticker of a Stephen King quote though…

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Paper Moon

-Ella Fitzgerald, “Paper Moon”

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