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Browsing Tag: freedom

Monsters, Monsters Everywhere–And Only Love Can Scare Them

I got news last week that a relative of mine, one of my mother’s cousins, Alice, had passed away. Her funeral was this past Saturday in Broomall, Pennsylvania. My in-laws were coming up from Baltimore to visit us the same day, but I snuck out to the service, a drive of about two hours each way, because, well, it was Alice. And it was a funeral. I’m big on showing up to funerals. Always have been. I just…we need to show up. So I try to. But here’s the thing about Alice. She was the kind of person you wanted in your life, even if it was as remotely as she was in mine. She was 61 when she died, but with the mind of a child, someone in the age range of eight years to 12. What this meant for her family–as accounted by her immediate family at the funeral, as known by me and everyone who’d ever had the chance to interact with her–was that she saw life in the absolute best possible way. Alice was treasured. Treasured. She was happy, positive. She…

Excuse Me While I Weep Into My Freedom

This afternoon I put Quinn down for her nap after lunch. What’s the big deal, you ask? Well, friend, I didn’t nurse her first. Just lunch, books, nap.  Again, you inquire: so why all your wailing and gnashing of teeth? Because, silly. I’m weaning her from the great milk factory known as my bosoms.  It’s a moment to which I’ve been looking forward for at least six months.  It’s a time that I’ve imagined as somewhere, out on the horizon–a beautiful sunset that I can see, but not quite touch. And it’s here. It’s finally here. My daughter now longer needs me as her primary source of nutrition, and I am free. So, of course I want to cry. I’m a year-and-done kind of breastfeeder. I nurse instead of giving formula, because that’s what works for us, and I’m lucky enough to be able to do it. But once I get the okay to introduce milk to the wee one, man, I’m outta there.  No extended breastfeeding for me, no…

Patience and Pitfalls

I keep telling myself that I need to write about something other than parenting, and it’d be nice if maybe I stayed away from a list of bullet points once in awhile, but then I had to go and do something like visit the library today. And frankly, I need to get some laundry finished before the girls wake up, so sorry, kids. You’re stuck with another list. I’ll keep it short. A note about the children’s programs at our local library: God bless the public library system and all, but these sessions make me want to tear my hair out. Saoirse has loved them since she was five months old, and now it seems that Quinn’s as big a fan, which means that it looks like I’m stuck  singing “You gotta shake, shake, shake the sillies out” for awhile longer, here. But there’s just something about these weekly half-hours that make me want to weep. Maybe it’s because the routine hasn’t changed in three years. Or maybe because I’m just not that good an actor, so…