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Category: Parenthood

Didn’t See That One Coming

Saoirse walked up to me in the laundry room yesterday and asked me for a hug. “You’re the best mom in the world,” she said. “I don’t tell you that often enough.” I stood still for a moment, speechless. I think I was trying to memorize the last sentence of what she said: I don’t tell you often enough. But what I was really thinking was, Oh, my little girl. You’ve already told me more than I could ever hope for. &nbsp…

I’d Say There’s No Harm in That at All

The “baby” turned five over the holidays, which officially means that he’s not a baby and I need to give up the denial before it starts to get kind of creepy. His feet are huge. His hands are ginormous, to use one of his favorite words. He’s tall enough that I have to go up a size in his clothes again and he’s almost outgrown his car seat and he’s big enough that he’s starting to out-eat most adults when we sit down to meals. Pretty soon I’m going to be surrounded by all these friendly giants that somehow came out of me but are towering over me and I’m just not ready for that. Cian, by bringing up the rear, is simply rubbing it in. And yet: “I don’t feel five. I only feel four.” “You’re the best mom in the world. You’re so nice to me. You give me ginormous cookies.” “Mom? What if dinosaurs were real? And we could eat them and they lived in our house and our…

So Long as They Jump

Saoirse and I were sitting on the couch together the other night, reading. Much to her little sister’s dismay, SK gets to stay up later than her younger siblings. Quinlan, in her imagination, thinks we spend this time gorging on cupcakes, or reenacting episodes of American Ninja Warrior, or laughing at some uproarious movie we’re all watching without her. Not so, though–the nights that Saoirse hangs out downstairs, this is what it is: sitting, reading, quietly talking. (In her defense, Quinlan really wants to just do that, too. She saves the Ninja stuff for other times, like when she’s supposed to be sitting down with us to dinner.) That evening, I was watching the fish wander around their aquarium in their spot across the room. Our smaller goldfish, R2 (or as I like to call her, Dumb) was quietly moving along, just happy to chase the bubbles around her tiny world. Finn, on the other hand (or as I prefer to call him, Dumber), was attacking the rocks that lay on the bottom of the tank, knocking them this way and that with a terrible goldfish-sized clatter in his desperate search…