Wednesday, February 15, 2012


Today. Today we are making german pancakes. Getting syrup all over sticky hands and then all over a sticky house. We are staying in our pajamas. We are watching lots of movies. Probably with popcorn and leftover Valentine candy. Today we are reading lots of books, building lots of forts and making lots of messes. Today we are enforcing naps on everyone. We are looking at the window at the snow. And maybe sending two boys out with gloves and hats. And waving from the window. Today we are trying not to lose it when Soren pulls every book off the shelf, empties the clean laundry basket all over the floor, or leaves the bathroom sink running. Today we are eating macaroni for dinner. We are pretending the washing machine is broken and probably the dishwasher too. Today we are waiting on chairs at the window for the garbage truck to get here. We are letting snotty noses stay snotty. We are fighting over cars and trains and playing ghosts with blankets over our heads. We are not running on the treadmill. Instead we are eating another of nana's heart-shaped valentine cookie.

Today we are taking the day off. Feel free to stop by. We just might not answer the door.

Tuesday, February 7, 2012


I've learned a lot about boys in the past four years. They like to wear shorts year-round, they can be easily bribed by fruit snacks, and they are awesome at making gun noises and car explosions. But most importantly: They like to get hurt. And they are pretty darn good at it. I am 27 years old. I have never had a broken bone or stitches. I have stayed in the hospital overnight three times: CJ, Soren, Jane.

CJ and Soren have had black eyes, stitches, x-rays, dislocated arms, dislocated elbows, lots of hospital stays, bee stings, and lots of scrapes and bruises. Seriously? It is pretty awesome to have the pediatrician's number on my favorites list and that my voice is recognized immediately when I call. I'm sure they love me there. I'm also pretty sure there's an unmarked police car outside our house monitoring us at all times.

Oh well. We're doing the best we can over here. And if raising boys means a trip to the ER every few days, well then that's what we'll do. (But can we just lay off on the x-rays for awhile? Those things are pricey.)