read more posts by

Leah Ferguson

Memorial Day 2020: The Family Gathers, an F150, and I Yelp about Social Distancing

Hey. It’s the Tuesday after what has probably been a quiet Memorial Day weekend for many of us (if you, though, are reading this not from your living room couch but from a crowded beach, please know a] I’m mad at you because SOCIAL DISTANCING, and b] I’m jealous of you because BEACH). I noticed this weekend that I managed to mess up Cian’s buzz cut last week (shocked, are you?): there’s a strip of hair above the nape of his neck that’s noticeably longer than any of the hair above it. Which means that as it grows he’s going to get a mullet. Which means that I am never, ever, ever touching the hair on that boy’s head with clippers ever again. He’ll just have to learn how to braid. I made Mom’s deviled eggs again yesterday. They tasted more like how she used to make them, and that made me happy. (My sister-in-law made key lime pie. That, too = happy.) I’m reading Emma Straub’s All Adults Here. I love her books, and…

They Said Not to Do It: The Quarantine Haircut

There are things I’ve done that I regret in this life. That 8 a.m. math class my freshman year in college is a big one (or, rather, the fact that I rarely showed up to it). That pixie cut (“But Cameron Diaz looks so cute in hers!”) circa 2001. Tequila. But here, in this time of pandemic, I’ve done the most clichéd regrettable thing of all: I cut Cian’s hair. When I say “cut,” I mean I took scissors to Cian’s hair the other day, trying to maintain the style he’d had before. I cut it once, then twice to fix the once, then the final, cringe-worthy time to fix the mess I’d made the first two times. My child. My beautiful sweet kid with the longish hair we both liked so much… …now has a buzz cut. He spent all of the day afterward glaring at me while pointing at his head: “I have ELF EARS!” But then the girls, thankfully, spent the rest of the evening telling him how great it was, and that he…

Quarantine, Deviled Eggs, and Me: Mother’s Day 2020

Well, that Mother’s Day kind of sucked, didn’t it? My sweet family tried so hard this year. They made me stay in bed an hour and a half after I’d already been awake so they could bring me breakfast. The kids made “fancy juice.” David prepared stuffed French toast and bacon cooked outside on the grill (remember that time I burnt out the microwave when I set the stove on fire? We still haven’t decided on a hood range to replace it because compromise is hard when the other person doesn’t go along with you). There were handmade cards and big mugs of coffee. The kids bought me an incredible t-shirt, and if you’ve seen The Mandalorian, you know what I mean by that. And then I cried making some deviled eggs. Let me back up. We had plans to take an early dinner over to my mom’s. We were keeping it simple: hot dogs, salad, corn on the cob. I made mini cheesecakes, and we figured the kids could play outside, or we could watch a movie with her. It would be…