Tag Archives: motherhood

February pics


by | March 2, 2016 · 8:23 pm

Happy 6 month birthday, Rosie!

Rosie, we love you so much! You bring such joy to our lives, little cutie. Happy 6 month birthday!


And happy first day of school, little Nora. We love you too and we’re so proud of you for being such a big girl.

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Everything will be okay Mommy

Nora is just as silly, goofy, affectionate, energetic, thoughtful, sweet and funny as ever. Here are some highlights.

Trip to the city

Nora packs up her pocketbook, sits three or four of her “guys” in the baby stroller and leaves the room.

“I gotta go.”

“Where are you going?” I say.

“I gotta meet Nicole in the city.” (Nicole is a good friend of mine.)

“What are you two going to do there?”

“We’re gonna eat coffee.”

Then, mimicking mommy she comes back in the room. “Oh! I forgot my wallet and my purse!”


We were at a friend’s birthday party at Tumble Bee and Nora had a blast. But when, at the end of the party, a person in fuzzy bee costume emerged from the back to a rap song which chanted “Bumble Bee, bumble bee,” Nora was not having it. She burst into tears and clutched onto the leg of the nearest staff member. I picked her up and hugged her, and she let out a nervous laugh as we watched the other kids hug the giant bee.

“I want to go home,” she cried.

“That’s not a real bee,” I said. “That’s just a girl in a bee costume, like for Halloween.”

“I want to go home,” she said, kind of like, look, I think I know what a giant bee looks like, and that is one right there.

The whole drive home and for the rest of the evening, she rehashed the debacle over and over again. “Da bee came out and I was crying. I said,” (in a mock crybaby voice) “‘I want Mommy!’ And he waved his hands like this” (waving her hands in front of her). “Maybe we’ll see him again.”

She is still rehashing, three weeks later. She’ll bring it up randomly in the car. “It’s not a real bee!” she says. “It’s a guuurl in a costume.”

I’m impressed by the way that she copes with one of her fears. She processes the situation and talks herself out of being afraid. Kid’s got a good head on her shoulders.

Crib mishap

Okay, it’s probably time for a toddler bed. It’s just that, I love that nice long nap she takes every day. And friends tell me the toddler bed might put an abrupt halt to the nap.

She climbed out of the pack n’ play at Nana and Poppop’s house, pulled a sheet off the bed, knocked a gate down and made her way to the bottom of the stairs.

“I want to play with Caitlin and Leah!” she was yelling. I ran up to get her when I realized her yelling had gotten louder. So loud, it almost sounded like she was no longer in the attic. Because she wasn’t.

She is probably too darn big for that pack n’ play anyway. Sigh.

Lovable moments

She says, “Mommy you’re so cute.”

“I want to play with you. Because I love you.”

“I’m so glad you’re here!”

I sneeze and she yells from the other room, “Are you okay, Mommy?”

“I’m okay,” I say.

“Everything will be okay Mommy!” she says.

She sure keeps me on my toes but I sure love her.

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“Motherhood Absentmindedness”

Hi everyone!

I just wanted to share my essay, “Motherhood Absentmindedness,” which was published in Brain, Child last week.

The essay begins:

You think I’d learn not to rest my coffee cup on the roof of the car while buckling my daughter Nora into her car seat, but sometimes, I only have so many hands. How many times have I backed out of the driveway and heard the clunk of a thing hitting the pavement? My phone, my sunglasses, a water bottle, a lunch bag, a juice box. And I have spent much of my existence searching for lost items, so much so that my two-year-old has a habit of walking into my closet with her hands in the air, saying, “I’m just looking for something”….

To keep reading, click on the link. http://www.brainchildmag.com/2014/09/motherhood-absentmindedness/



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Nora points at herself in the mirror and says, “Dada!” She says Dada when she sees a picture of herself, a picture of a baby on the side of the diaper box or baby food jar. She stumbles around, holding two Dadas in each hand and repeats “Dada dada dada dada” over and over again. (By the way, she walks now. Can’t believe I haven’t posted about that yet!) She points and says Dada with such an earnest expression each time, waiting for my response, as if this is really something she needed to get off her chest.

“Dada,” she says.

“Uh huh, baby,” I say. 

She nods once. “Dada.”

On an airplane ride back from Florida, Nora spent the trip peering over the seat behind us to point at a boy. “Dada!” she said in a squeal. “Dada!”

“I think you have the wrong person,” the boy said, a little embarrassed.

This week, we took a little trip to the library and the librarians were cooing at Nora. A fifty-ish man told Nora she was going to be a heart breaker. “She’s a beautiful baby,” he said. Nora pointed at him (technically behind him at a little kid) and said, “Dada.”

The man’s eyes widened. “Oh, no I’m not your Dada” he said, as if she were implying, “Thank you for the compliment. You are my father now.”

My husband says it’s confusing when he hears her saying “Dada dada dada” from her crib in the morning, because in his sleepy state, he thinks she’s calling out for him. When he goes in to check on her, she’s reaching over the crib to the baby doll which has taken a plunge.

She knows who her father is, though. She just doesn’t call him Dada quite yet. But he’s in the club. How do I know? Because she puts a hand on his chest, gazes up at him and tells him, in her little voice, “Mama.”


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Winter Shmooples

It’s pretty fun to bundle her up and take her out.

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