“Why are we here and Hobbes is in Heaven? Why do we have to go to school and boys and girls in Heaven don’t? Why are we here if the Earth is not that great and Heaven is perfect?” my five year old son asks me with tears in his eyes. I would usually say he was doing his usual bedtime filibuster, but we did just lose our precious dog, Hobbes, a little over a month ago. The terrible understanding that death is permanent has hit Jack earlier than I had hoped. Continue reading
I think romantic comedies are based entirely on people’s fantasies of how love and marriage are supposed to look. Boy and girl meet, fall in love, have some drama, resolve said drama, and live happily ever after. While I enjoy a good fairy tale, the repetitiveness of this exact story is incredibly dangerous to modern marriage. It doesn’t show Cindy and Charming then learn to live together, figure out how much time they want to dedicate to each other, maneuver life with certain expectations, and recognize unique undertones of each others’ words. Cinderella might have babies one day. She’s going to instantly form an entirely uncharted and incredibly important relationship with a new little person and she might have some confusion as to her new dual role as princess wife and mother. Or what if Cindy doesn’t want kids? And Charming does? Did they discuss this before they decided to get married? Probably not. They’ve barely even met. Cinderella doesn’t even have anyone to confide in but a mouse and a jolly old witch. The sequel might be a rough one. Continue reading
I am a messy person. I’ve been messy since I was born. I’m not kidding. I popped out and grabbed twelve swaddling blankets and threw them about the room. Then, I politely asked the nurse for another one because I had lost the others. Coming home from school, I would violently kick of my shoes. They landed where they landed. The only time I cleaned my room was when my mom would say I couldn’t (insert fun activity here) until I cleaned my room. I had chores. I did chores. I had to help clean the house. I don’t think I can blame this on my parents. I’m scatterbrained inside and out. The best part about this issue is that clutter makes me crazy. It actually makes me feel icky. I am so much sharper and happily in an organized space, but it is in my very being to be messy. Continue reading
Picture yourself in a small white house, in a pink room with white wicker furniture, lying on a bedspread covered in a signature 1990’s rose pattern. You are 7 years old. Your best friend can’t come over this weekend, you are sick of the same old toys, you’ve been staring at your ceiling fan for 20 minutes, and you are bored out of your little mind. You walk into your parents’ room and desperately proclaimed, “I. Am. So. BORED!”
Then, she looks at you. The classic Mom look, her gigantic glasses reflecting back at you with a confident smirk. She knows exactly what to say. “If you’re bored, I’m sure I can find something for you to do.” Continue reading
Isn’t it weird how we’re always in some specific phase of life that we don’t exactly acknowledge until it’s passed? That sentence felt complicated. What I mean, though, is kind of complicated. Okay, so right now, I have two kids, right? Yes. Yes, I do. I am aware of that, but because I am going through this right now, it’s hard to appreciate it. There are the little moments when Jack is sweetly talking to Juliet that I can stop and step outside of myself and see that I am so lucky. These are moments I’m sure I’ll have to remind myself of when they both get a little older and start liking each other a little less. Continue reading
Y’all remember Y2K? If you don’t, congratulations, you are incredibly and luckily young. I was in 7th grade when I was first warned. My science teacher, an older gentleman, made it very clear that we were to be prepared. The computers. ALL THE COMPUTERS. Like….Errrrrwhere….were going to shut down. For some reason, this meant the world was pretty much going to stop working. Because the computers…um…I don’t know….didn’t know what year it was or something. Like I said, I was in 7th grade. Continue reading
Oh, Lord, y’all. I’ve already shared this part of myself with you. I have a few pet peeves, but the number one tear-my-hair-out, blindly screaming, call your mother and tell her what you did peeve is meanness. When someone is mean to me or someone I love I go from super chill Becca to white trash redneck angry girl whose name is not pronounceable through her gritted teeth. Having a child has taken these psychotic episodes to another level-and because usually the perpetrator is aged in the single digits, I have to control myself during these times more than ever. Have you ever wanted to grab a 6-year-old by the ear and drag him away while his mother watched? No. Uh. Right. Me neither. Continue reading
Oh, I’m sure other women experienced severe hanger in their first pregnancies, but not me. This second one has been different in so many ways. I also need to clarify that I, myself have experienced hanger many times without being pregnant, but this hanger is different. This hanger WAKES you up at 4:30am and forces you to mindlessly chug cinnamon apple sauce out of an old hot-chocolate-stained coffee mug. Then, you lay there and think about how you had a cheeseburger and fries at 8 o’clock last night and there is no way you should physically be this hungry right now. Continue reading
Have a kid, tell everyone you’re going to take them to Disney before they’re three, then take them. That’s the moment you’ll realize how fast time flies. It is insane that we are already here. We are home from Disney with another little Disney freak on the way. The next time Rick and Jack and I are at Disney together will be when Baby Devens is almost three and it will be here before we know it.
I’m always pretty obnoxious about appreciating each little moment, but this pregnancy has made it so much worse. I am not in a hurry at all this go round where as last time, I just couldn’t wait to meet our new baby. I know that our life as we know it will never be the same just as it was with Jack, and I want to savour the time we have before Jack becomes a big brother and Rick and I become equally matched in tiny humans. Continue reading
Dear Darling Little Munchkin Nugget,
I’ve been writing these blogs for over a year now and hoping that one day, you’ll read them. I figure you won’t care about them much at all until you either have a family, or I’m gone. I realized today that I’ve yet to really acknowledge my reason for writing. It’s you. I don’t want to forget these moments with you. I’ve already forgotten about thirty percent of my high school class, my friend’s house phone numbers, and how much it cost to fill my gas tank up in 2002. I don’t want to forget the person you are right now. At two years old, we have a very different relationship than we might when you are thirty, so I want to remember each relationship perfectly. Continue reading
The Munchkin Nugget 