Family Governance 

May 2, 2016

In a discussion this weekend on types of government the boys pointed out to their dismay that our family is not a democracy but a monarchy. 

“True,” I agreed. “But it’s a Benevolent Monarchy!”

They have spent the rest of the weekend telling me I am “anything but a benevolent monarch.”

You may all sleep well knowing that the most gracious, compassionate, smart, hilarious, and beautiful monarch is on the job. 


Different. Just Like Everybody Else. 

April 30, 2016

“You’d make a really great hipster if you weren’t so counterculture.”

I’m pretty sure it was a compliment. And since it was just about the only thing he’s said to my face in a week (and was gone again before I awoke) then I’m counting it.

It was about making gifts (I had just finished a baby blanket) and I reflected that while I have been making gifts since before it was cool, it’s probably best if the blanket I made for him 17 years ago doesn’t see the light of day.

He followed up with a remark that we were the coolest people at South By Southwest last month. I don’t know about that, but give how infrequently I brush my hair and wear “going out of the house clothes” I think it’s good he still think I’m cool. I guess him traveling so much lessens the reality of just how dowdy I am.


All the Light We Cannot See

April 25, 2016

There is no light in a world where bedtime takes three hours. 


I have no words

April 17, 2016

“I don’t know why we bother making food,” I said. “You seem more interested in filling up on boogers.”

I didn’t get the desired reaction. 

Without missing a beat, and with seemingly complete sincerity, he replied, “but sometimes I run out of boogers.”


Melinda Gates Would Be Proud

March 14, 2016

The dishwasher is washing the dishes, the washing machine the kids’ clothes, and the robot vacuum* is making quick work of the paper confetti and bits of leaves and other debris in the room while simultaneously providing white noise to help Little Bird wind down for the night. I call this a win for modernity. 

* I haven’t blogged much about this newest member of our family, because there just aren’t enough words for the life changing magic of a robot vacuum.


On Good Babies and Sleep

March 5, 2016

It has taken me a while, but I have come to categorize questions regarding my baby’s sleep with comments about my baby’s hair — people are just trying to start a conversation with the new mum. With all my babies the hair has been so striking it has made a great opener for strangers. And for those who know me and care about me it is the questions about sleep. 

The thing is, sleep is loaded with cultural constructs. If he sleeps through the night (which according to some people is six hours and others it’s twelve) then he is a good baby and I am a clever mummy. And if he doesn’t sleep through the night? Does that make him a bad baby? Or me an incompetent mother? Is it even possible for an infant to be “bad”?

So to my dearest friends who ask if he is sleeping through the night I smile and say that my babies don’t really do that until about 18 months. It takes the pressure off us all to fit into someone else’s mold. 

And to the rest I just smile and say “he sleeps like a baby.” Because he does. 


Mothering 

February 25, 2016

When Red was a baby I dropped whatever I was doing at bedtime. We left activities (even church ones for which I was responsible,) did not pass go, did not collect $200, and went straight to bed. I was pretty good at recognizing the sanctity of bedtime with Blue as well. But now there is soccer practice, Boy Scouts, and other extra curriculars, in addition to church stuff and bedtime can be summed up with a big hearty LOL. It’s bad enough how often the older ones are up late on school nights but it’s really hard on the baby, who treats every sleep as a nap. I just laugh when people ask me if he’s sleeping through the night. He did better the first few months than he does now and it’s our fault. 

I can’t mother my baby the way my instincts tell me to because i also have to mother my bigger babies. I tell him often “but I was a great mum to your brothers!” 

Pro Tip: don’t let the nurses at the hospital hear you say that unless you want to go home with a stack of papers on postpartum depression. 


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