How The Royal Wedding Makes Me Want a Sandwich

I turned on the TV today so SK could watch a little Clifford. I must’ve hesitated a bit too long on coverage leading up to the royal wedding, because SK finally turned to me and said, “Mom, are they married yet? Why not?” I guess Wills and Kate have been a part of the household conversations more than I’d like to admit. I just finished reading Peggy Orenstein’s Cinderella Ate My Daughter, which is all about the effects of the girly-girl culture–with all its princesses and glitter wands and glossy perfection–on girls growing up today. It basically reinforced every fear both David and I have had about the “girlie” stuff and validated my defensive pride when SK opts for Lightning McQueen instead of My Little Pony. I am a modern woman, I think, and therefore an aware mom. Yes, my daughter asks to paint her nails, but by golly she’ll go kick around a soccer ball before the polish has dried. We are rising above, dagnabit! Please. I’m so full of baloney that you could make a sandwich out of my…

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…