Saturday, February 26, 2011


Last night when my husband fell asleep on the couch, I covered him with a blanket. I took our tiniest tiny baby to bed with me, and anticipated the morning. Our Big Tiny Baby now has a big boy bed. Which means, when he wakes up at 5:30 he can get himself out of his room and well on his way to start his day. Namely, scooting himself downstairs and demanding milk.

Last night, I imagined him at the top of the stairs at 5:30 seeing his daddy down on the couch, and going straight to him for the milk. I imagined me sleeping until 10 with my tiniest tiny baby. I imagined a world with calorie free boneless chicken wings from Applebee's and peace and brotherly love.


5:30 am --A sound! It is Big Tiny Baby. He is awake. He is at the top of the stairs. He is scootching down the steps. He sees his daddy. He goes to his daddy. He tells his daddy "Hi, Daddy." Daddy does not wake up. Big Tiny Baby comes back up the steps. In a few seconds I hear, "Hi Mom."

"Good morning, Buddy," I say.

And then, I become a genius, "Do you want a donut? Go and ask Daddy for a donut. He will bring you for a drive to get a donut." (Three of his most favorite things: Daddy, Donuts, Drives)

But then! My genius plan backfires....Big Tiny Baby(2.5) is excited by this. And wakes up the entire house (with the exception of Daddy on the couch--naturally) with loud talks of drives and donuts .

However! My boy (6) is reminded upon awakening that he and Daddy had planned a morning drive. In 3 seconds he is dressed for the day with all the gear he needs for the aforementioned drive. My girl, not to be left behind--and now hungry for donuts-- is ALSO dressed and ready for the drive AND she's made her bed.

I summon my energy reserves and slither out of bed. I make the other beds. I change two diapers. I start the coffee. I wave as four of my most favorites drive off into the sunrise towards donuts.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

I can hardly stand it

There are no words...this daughter of mine.

I am saving this...of course.

She's almost nine. And I know that I am teetering REALLY close to the edge of a tweenage cliff. One day when I'm a big loser, and I don't know anything, and certainly don't understand, I'm going to take this out and reread it. (Or I'll just recite it from memory.) And know that she's still in there somewhere.

I'm so lucky she's mine.

Saturday, February 5, 2011

fin wail

I baked banana bread yesterday.

When it was time to add the eggs, I realized I didn't have any. It was too late to turn back. Babies were sleeping so we couldn't make a quick run, and I didn't feel like bothering any neighbors.

What to do...what to do?

I love a good quandary. Especially a cooking quandary. The challenge small. The stakes low.

Sometimes I win. Sometimes I fail. This time, it wasn't quite a win, but it wasn't a fail, either.

The banana bread came out moist and cakey.

With a slight tang.

From the mayonnaise.