Tomorrow is Crazy Sock Day. Which reminds me of a conversation I had with Nate a week or two ago. He comes up to the bathroom as I’m doing my make-up and he says, “Mama, guess what’s on my socks.” I look down and he’s wearing a pair of short…
Oh my baby Nake, I can hardly believe you turned 7 years old on March first. You continue to grow and evolve and become you through and through. As our annual tradition goes, this post is meant to freeze time for just a moment, painting a picture of seven-year-old Nate.…
Just in time for the boys’ birthday party on March 17th, we declared the barn “done enough.” The upstairs is finished… if you don’t count the fact that we’re still waiting for the bathroom mirror and we need to install the barn door handle. But there are real beds and…
I remember after giving birth to a baby without drugs that the phrase, Hurts like a mother, made… Absolutely. Perfect. Sense. Lately I’ve found myself thinking the same thing about Rat Bastard… It’s been several weeks since I opened the hood of my car and found the great rodent residence. And I’ve…
It was my half birthday, April 20th. The day of Columbine. The images of high school kids running in lines with their hands on their heads are forever etched into my memory. That same year, one of my classmates told me he’d written a play and that one of the…
I’ll never forget the night Nate was born. Yes, there was the part where he was born so fast James was still wearing his backpack… but I’m thinking more about how he was supposed to be a February baby. He was perfectly comfortable and five days late and as the…
Let’s just say that when it comes to pop culture, I’m warming the bench. You know that game Celebrity? Yeah, me neither. Probably the result of my woodland childhood and five staticky TV channels. (3, 8, 11, 35 and 46, for the record.) But no matter how wide-eyed and clueless I…
It’s the MOST wonderful tiiiiiiime… of every two years. The Olympics. I love the little flags. The suspense. The heartbreak. The triumph. The wipeouts. I love the columns of numbers and the standings and the milliseconds. I’d forgotten how much I love slopestyle and halfpipe and snowboarding motorcross. I love the…
Jaimie, please tell me you don’t have any more childhood rodent stories. Oh, but I do. And I don’t yet have to dip into my cache of James’ wild college mouse days. One of my all-time faves… So this one time, living in BFE, my cat had her litter of…
Some of my earliest memories involve waging war against the wild. My first rodent recollection involved a little something scurrying out from under the kitchen trash compactor and my dad’s swift, permanent stomp. He used to get in big trouble for using my mom’s yellow dishwashing gloves to carry questionable small…