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Category: Milestones

And Then There Was That Time I Wrote About Poop

It’s Day 1 of potty training, 8:30 a.m.: “Ci,” I say. (It sounds like “Key,” but I never know how to write it: Key? Kee? “Hey kid?”) “Do you want to go pee on the potty?” “No.” “I know, but we’re going.”  (Cian sits on the potty. I sit on the floor. Precious minutes of our lives tick by.) “It’s naht woe-king.”  Day 1, 9:30 a.m. “Hey, Ci,” I say. “Do you need to go pee on the potty?”  “No.” “I know, but we’re going.” (Cian sits on the potty. I sit on the floor. I wonder what the rest of the world is doing right now.) “Mom. It’s naht woe-king.” Day 1, 10:30 a.m.: “Cian,” I say. “Do you need to go pee on the potty?” “No.” “I know, but we’re going.” (Cian sits on the potty. I sit on the floor after throwing out the soaked…

Always the Beginning

I haven’t posted in such a long time, and the lack of writing/moment-capturing/shouting-rhetorical-pleas-for-help-and/or-wine-into-the-wilderness drives me nuts. The thing is, when I’m not writing/capturing/weeping it means that life is at its busiest, or fullest–which also means that it’s most likely at its happiest or stressiest (not a word. I just made it a word), depending on the week. I’ve missed a lot this year documentation-wise–I was so busy living it I didn’t record it, which is awesome in the moment but after I’m all AUGH. To see those moments slipping through my fingers more quickly than I can grab onto them, well…there’s nothing I can do but pick up the thread when I can and carry on.  And so. Cian’s birthday was on New Year’s Eve, a day that has surprisingly become pretty significant to me. Everything changed for our family three years ago: we had our third child, of course, but it was a child we were told, thanks to…

Just One Sentence

I look back at some of my old posts-the ones I put up way back in the olden days, when my first child was an only and I was tired and overwhelmed and just a little, tiny, eensy bit lost in the strange paradox of mundane and unpredictability that is the life (and in particular, stay-at-home life) of a new parent, and think: oh dear Lord. I have nothing to talk about now. But I do have stuff to talk about. It just seems to be bigger and less funny in its life-i-ness than it used to be. Saoirse told me this morning that she’d like to get her ears pierced. (I haven’t told David this yet, so whoops: Hey, Dave? SK wants to get her ears pierced! Please don’t faint). She was standing in her room–the room that pretty much just houses her bunk bed and clothes now because she sleeps in Quinlan’s room and why in the world did we move houses if the girls don’t even want their separate spaces?–before she left for school. She was wearing her…