Berkeley Rose Garden, May 2013 It's okay to bring bread to the potluck. It's okay to decide that, for the last week, school starts 15 minutes later than it really does. It's okay that he's moving on from kindergarten. He's ready for this. You're the one who feels like she's always playing catch up. We were in the car, and he said, "3 days of kindergarten left." And I said, "How do you feel about that?" After thinking a moment, he said, "Kind of happy and sad at the same time. Happy because I ... more

Elan in full shagginess, March 2013    Post-bang trim, with the most beautiful lollipop You know what happens? I write a long, involved post, but then I get stopped somewhere along the way (usually at putting the pictures in), and then I just stop posting altogether. That one blockage just keeps everything else from flowing out around it. Maybe life is like this too. We get stuck on one thing that's not working, and it's difficult to shift our focus, to work around that one thing and keep going. So now it's spring, ... more

Batman and his trusty companion, February 2013 When I am gray-haired and my children are grown, and I am sitting by a fire reminscing, will I remember the way that Emry poops four times a day and always when we're running late leaving the house? And how Elan never does what I say until the 4th time I say it, with frustration? Or will I think about how they'd put their little hands in mine, how Elan would actually never want to be out of my presence in the house, ... more

My Valentine, made by Elan Elan and I had a Valentine-making session yesterday. The Valentines were super simple, homemade little bits of affection: a white heart, a piece of colored construction paper, a rainbow sticker. He wrote all the names of his classmates himself. He got excited when he wrote his name really well ("This is my best name ever, Mama!") and got only minimally down on himself when he didn't ("What happened to that E? That's a weird looking E!"). On the way to school this morning, he ... more

Tree against sky, December 2012 It is 6:30 p.m., witching hour in my house. I am frustrated. Tired of the whine fuss complain tattle cycle my kids are locked in. The text messages from my husband keep pushing back his arrival time 10 minutes by 10 minutes. I find myself saying things like You guys are driving me totally nuts and I can’t hear myself think, as I attempt to keep them occupied while making dinner and then to eat what I’ve made. Finally I reach my limit, my wavering line ... more