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Browsing Tag: Quinn

Pep Talks

Quinlan, age 11, is on the couch, playing a game on her new Nintendo. I’ve just asked Cian, newly age 9, to start a load of his laundry. “What?!” he says. “How do I do that??” Me, calm: “Cian. You do laundry all the time. Just grab a couple armfuls of the dirty clothes in your hamper and put them in.” There’s a sigh. A mutter. A mumbled “Why do I hafta do the laundry? I don’t know how to do the laundry! Ugh I don’t want to do the laundry.” (Same, kid. Same.) But he goes upstairs, gets the clothes, comes down with them, and goes into the laundry room, which is in the hallway on the other side of the kitchen from where Quinlan and I sit. I hear the rustle of clothing being shoved into the washing machine. “Mom! What do I do now!” It’s called at top volume from the other side of the house. Me, calm: “You put in one of the laundry pods.” “But where are they?!” Me, sighing, but…

Happy New Year, but Late (and Normal)

It’s the second day back to school–back to “normal,” I guess?–after the winter holiday break. Saoirse and Cian are in school but Quinlan is lying on the couch next to me in the living room, watching Netflix (Alexa & Katie is really cute, by the way). She’s home with a stomachache. Nothing major, but it is Covid Times, so we play it safe. This morning she joked with us. “Jeez, Mom,” she said. “Any other year, you’d send us into school if we only had an upset stomach. Or sniffles. Or anything! It’s so different now.” Oh, yes it is. David just drove to a big box store that’s a half hour away to hunt down Covid-19 home tests. They’re sold out everywhere else. We don’t think Quinn has Covid, but you know. They’re good to have around. Cases are rising at our kids’ small Catholic school, but the administration is trying to stay open. (Meanwhile, our huge local public school district just lifted their mask mandate. Makes sense. Sure.)   &nbsp…

Grief, and When Our Children Show Us the Way Out

As I type this, there is an estate sale company in my mother’s house, sorting through her belongings. The estate manager called me from where she stood in my parents’ dining room this morning to ask me some questions, and when she looked outside, she paused our conversation. “It’s just beautiful here!” she said. “This is a lovely home.” I hung up and cried. I need to tell you about this past weekend. We’d decided to do some sort of Fun Family Fall Activity, and Quinlan really wanted to go to a place with a corn maze, so after we finished cleaning the house Saturday morning (Cian: “Why do we hafta keep cleaning the house all the time? It’s just going to have to get cleaned AGAIN.”), we drove to an apple orchard about thirty minutes south of us. We handed over the bonkers-expensive entrance fee, donned our masks, and made our way to the corn maze after dodging a small handful of social media influencers in their Instagram Hats as they teetered out of a pumpkin patch. All Quinlan wanted to do was…