For a little boy who celebrates fresh flakes with spontaneous snow angels, For his bear hugs & sloppy kisses, For the sweet taste of his remaining Halloween candy, freely given (seems like all our talk of generosity is sinking in, eh?), For building towers & bedtime stories, For every blessed time he utters, “I love you … Continue reading A prayer of thanksgiving
parenting
The dance
They call it the longest, shortest time for a reason, yet every time I glimpse you teetering between boyhood and babyhood, I’m startled. Like at baby Chloe’s birthday party, while she investigated her first cupcake from her high chair, you begged for a slice of watermelon cake. You licked up the green icing and tore away … Continue reading The dance
Banana bread, gun violence and facing the daylight
He just wanted banana bread. Eager to please and to get us out of the house, I obliged. We sat side by side in a bustling Starbucks, stealing a moment together before work and school. My son slurped apple juice and nibbled at his bread. I sipped my coffee, barely tasting it. Eyes glued to … Continue reading Banana bread, gun violence and facing the daylight
Let it be love
“Wait, you still have to stay in his room at bedtime?” she asked, a hint of pity in her voice. We sharing stories and dinner in my home and my least favorite parenting topic had arisen. “Yeah,” I said sheepishly. “With all his ear infections and our failed attempts at sleep training, he just never … Continue reading Let it be love
Snapshot of a summer afternoon
She clicks her laptop shut and announces, “Well, that’s enough for today.” She considers her son’s laundry basket, the dirty dishes, scattered hot wheels in the playroom. Working is her default mode; she finds it hard to relax. But the sun is shining through the blinds, and there’s a kiddie pool filled to the brim … Continue reading Snapshot of a summer afternoon
A mother’s worry
“Jack got in a fight at school today,” she reports, pushing an accident slip toward me. I take the slip and crouch down to examine a fingernail-shaped scratch on my son’s head. “Poor buddy,” I say, pulling him into a hug. I look up and ask, “What happened?” “He and another boy wanted the same … Continue reading A mother’s worry
Two
Two years ago, I gave birth to you, little one. You burst into our lives in the most dramatic fashion and left us breathless, in awe of your tenacity. Two years of singing lullabies, tickling your belly, making you pancakes. Two years of pediatrician visits, sleep deprivation, gnawing worry. Two years of surrender. Two years … Continue reading Two
