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Category: Family Life

Quarantine

We made three visits to the doctor in 28 hours this weekend. I don’t recommend this for a fun time, especially when one of those visits is on Easter Sunday morning and involves my dear 3-year-old being the only patient to ever visit a normally closed pediatrician’s office in an Easter dress, an eye swollen half-shut, and a date for mass in an hour…At the end of an all, the tally is as follows: two cases of walking pneumonia (me and the Mighty), two ear infections (the girls, and the reason for Saoirse’s fight face) and a sinus infection (me, just to throw a sick momma into the mix to even things out). As I type this, David has sealed himself into a bathroom and is bathing in Purell. I fully expect him to emerge in a biohazard suit…No, just kidding. He’s been awesome. But still. Good thing he washes his hands a lot. A whole lot. So, with all the syringes and open medication bottles, our house looks like a New Jersey beach circa 1987. Quinn does a lot of sleeping–unless it…

Procrastination as Meditation

Because it is Good Friday, and because I’m trying desperately not to get all anxious-pants about the to-do list I have before me, I’m taking a moment to ponder a little some of the good bits in my life. And because you read, so I share: A husband who cleans bathrooms. Even if he weren’t cute and smart and charming and funny I still would’ve married him on this alone. House plants that are brand spankin’ new. I so enjoy them for the week I have before I neglectfully kill them all dead.     Books. Except for the one I’m reading right now, because it’s terrible. I will not trouble you with its title. These were pretty good, though:     A sweet daughter who says “wack-oom” instead of “vacuum.” And “lel-low” instead of “yellow.” And “boo-ful” instead of “beautiful.”  A home with blue walls and lots of light. Chocolate-chip-cinnamon sugar banana bread, eaten by the fistful, preferably with milk. A beautiful baby who, at almost 11…

Next Time I’m Just Turning on Clifford

David and I have made a conscious effort to not book our children for every class, program and flying trapeze seminar that’s offered in our area. Honest. When I taught, I saw firsthand how a jam-packed life could stress out a young person. And in the last couple years, I’ve seen two-year-olds who are cranky, overtired and whiny because they’re being rushed from one class to another to preschool to Target, then back home just to do it all again after nap time. It stressed me out just typing that. So with our own girls, we’ve been walking on the more relaxed side of the calendar-keeping. They each do an activity a couple days a week, and the rest of the time is free for getting together with friends, or running errands, or–gasp!–just hanging around the house, playing. Our bank account certainly prefers it this way, and I’d always assumed the girls, especially Saoirse, were happy, too. Until today. Actually, it’s been often lately I’ve noticed Saoirse becoming (dare I say it?), well, bored. Yes, she’ll…