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stubborn

Boo (Hoo)

Saoirse stuck her tongue out at David last night. She’d been arguing about taking a shower–first with me (“But I took a bath last night. I took a bath LAST NIGHT!”), then when I didn’t give her the answer she wanted, down to David–and when HE told her to get upstairs, she stuck her tongue out as soon as his back was turned (rookie move, Dave: don’t you know? NEVER TURN YOUR BACK ON THE ENEMY).  Then she lied and told me that she wasn’t sticking out her tongue, or didn’t mean to, or it accidentally fell out of her mouth while she was trying to proclaim her endless devotion to and respect for us–something like that. Either way, it sucked, and she was disciplined: I told her she couldn’t go to her school’s Hallweeen party today, but then a] I realized it was a school thing, and she sort of had to go to school, and b] Dave was all quietly saying, “Really, THAT? You had to go with that?!”, so now she gets to…

Because There’s Not a Remedy for Everything

This whole chasing-a-dream business is nuts. I still get all embarrassed-like and blushy when I talk about writing (or you know, the book).  I stayed so veeeeerrrry quiet about it all (the book, I mean), because you don’t just quit your job to be a full-time mom and then write a novel during nap times and after bedtimes and way-too-late-into-the-night times and walk around telling people “Oh, yeah, I don’t have a paying job, but I write because I must” because people who actually go to offices and classrooms and oh, I don’t know, war zones for a living might not really appreciate the lady in a messy ponytail and crayon-stained yoga pants with a toddler hanging by its fingers from her waistband talking about how she sits around on her rear end for hours eating jelly beans and just typetypetyping for fun. But I did. I started writing, and then, like some strange fungus that starts out as a little spot then grows until it’s an infestation you need special medication to treat ((you know, like athlete’s…

At Six Months

Cian’s teething. That one, that first stubborn tooth, on the bottom gum, right in front, has been there, hiding under the surface for weeks, sticking up against my finger when I feel it, but it won’t break through.  It’s just hanging out, waiting for I don’t know what (maybe actual real food that’s worth the effort rather than the mushed up baby carrots I’ve been attempting to shove in there?), but it just won’t budge. Instead, it sits there, right under the skin, and taunts us.  Taunts Cian, mostly, making him run his tongue over the sore skin, urging him to gnaw on anything that comes within arm’s reach:  a burp cloth, my hand, his sister’s hair. I am going to tell you that he is the happiest baby I’ve ever known.  You are going to roll your eyes, sigh, and possibly close your browser window.  I’m sorry.  I can’t fib.  It’s the truth.  Ask anyone, I swear:  he smiles at everybody.  He cries maybe in the middle of the night, when his diaper…