Days Like This

This week has been a disaster from day one on, nothing went as planned. It is hilarious in its totality. No one terrible thing, but all together each day started off and spiraled quickly out of control. I’ve never cleaned so many bodily function messes in one week (thanks dog/thunderstorms/baby messes/seriously guys?) I have a tire with a not-so-slow-leak, at numerous points B was fixing a disaster on one end of the house while I fixed one on another, we’d meet in the middle, carrying towels or cleaning spray or laundry and just laugh. I mean, what else was there to do?

Mama said there would be days like this.

Also it rained all week long which does nothing for one’s outlook on life or general enthusiasim to leave the house. Gracie now wants some rain boots like Mama’s.

Gracie’s infatuation with Piggie and Baby have reached new heights. They sit in her spare high chair at meal times, go to bed her her with their own blankie, try on clothes (she won’t wear any light pink pants now because Piggie is pink so Piggie should wear them). I’ve already dropped Baby out of the diaper bag once, and had that kind stranger yell “Ma’am you dropped your baby doll” after me.

She’s also infatuated with clips and hair bows, but mostly Mommy wearing them, so I’ve left the house twice with a nice bow in my hair, remembering half way to do something that hey, BOW IN MY HAIR. CHILD’S BOW. Sigh.

When I was growing up I teased my Mom that I could find her in any store because she had a habit of carrying her keys in her hand. I could always hear them jingling, and thus, find her in the shampoo or rice aisle. At Gracie’s daycare, after I take my shoes off in the entry, I walk through an older age classroom to get through to her classroom, but the walls are loft style and thus open between rooms near the ceiling. Every afternoon this week, as I’ve entered the first room I hear Gracie yell at her teacher “MOMMY MOMMY” and right as the teacher is saying “No sweetie, she will be here….” I stick my head around the dividing wall and we wonder how she knew I was in the building. Then I realized: I carry my keys. She can hear me jingle jingle, just like I heard my Mom.

Tonight B and I have dinner reservations to celebrate our anniversary, Gracie is staying at daycare late for their quarterly “babysitting” night and I’m really looking forward to just the two of us and some French food (my weakness). Where we won’t have to clean up messes or walk the dog or fill sippy cups. If just for a few hours we can be just us, and then, rejuvenated, race back to pick up Gracie, talking about how much we missed her the whole way there.

Life is good, even when it isn’t.

But I could do without all the laundry.


Happy Holidays, Or Something

With the celebration of our 5th wedding anniversary, I officially feel like the “holiday season” has kicked off in our house. We have begun the mad, whirling decent into my most favorite time of the year; “Oct-Nov-Ember” as you might say. Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas. I’m an unapologetic lover of the holidays, ain’t no shame in my game so to say.

I try hard not to jump ahead to the granddaddy of them all (Christmas, and ok fine, New Years Day bowl games, or one in particular), but this weekend B and I bought our holiday airfare to spend Christmas with my family out in Utah and I’m over the moon excited. Nothing compares to Christmas in the mountains (insert GIF of Bing Crosby, Danny Kaye, Rosemary Clooney and Vera Ellen singing “Snow!”) and that has me really excited for the trip home, particularly because I’m going to to use a big chunk of my extra paid time off (thanks 5 year work anniversary!) to spend a whole week at home, a feat not accomplished since 2006. Anyway. It is making it hard to focus on the current: Halloween!

In an effort to get my head back in the game, we let Gracie pick out a pumpkin at the grocery store and after her nap, we let her paint it. She’s very tidy (sometimes, she has zero qualms about throwing food or toys willy nilly) and wanted me to wipe her hand off between each color choice. Serious baby artist. She had a great time and now points to her “punkin” on the mantle whenever she comes in the living room.

Next weekend we have grand plans to head to a pumpkin patch (complete with pony rides and a mini corn maze for the wee feet) and we will pick out a pumpkin to carve. I’m anticipating her mind being blown, which ensures Gracie will feel very ho-hum about the endeavor.

I’m also in the midst of costume decision making. We have two options: a very adorable borrowed owl costume, or Mama making an owl costume, with the help of a very, very talented friend. Either way, please expect a “hoot hoot” picture in the coming weeks. Sorry not sorry.

And try as I might to focus on Halloween and all things spooky, I do have a few lists going for Thanksgiving. Our guest list is growing this year so there is more to do- such as procuring a card table and figuring out a table linen situation, in addition to my usual menu making. I have been making a pumpkin-chocolate cheesecake for years for Thanksgiving, but this year I’m tempted to make a pumpkin pie and a plain cheesecake and provide hot fudge and salted caramel toppings for everyone to use as they please. I also need to order our turkey asap- gotta secure the main event- and head out to Costco to buy 10 lbs of flour and equally obscene amounts of sugar.

Anyway, that is all we have here. Happy holidays y’all.


B and I were the only two single people in a large group of law school friends. Everyone else was coupled off, so we were always the odd ones out. Paired together at the dinner table, in cabs, in general. I took an ill-advised four day jaunt to Europe for what I thought was love, when it was apparent it wasn’t, B was the first person I told of the disastrous trip. We met for dinner occasionally, he’d walk me to the corner of the block I lived on and then say goodbye. On evenings out, as everyone coupled off, he’d share a cab home with me, making sure I got in before heading home himself.

He was one of my closest friends and then after a few years, we fell in love. It wasn’t a fast process, we kept it a secret for a long time (so as not to disrupt our circle of friends) but now we all laugh. All those other couples have broken up, moved on, have married others.

B and I are celebrating our five year wedding anniversary today.

Five years is a long time but also the blink of an eye. What is they say, the days are long but the years are short? Describes it perfectly. Five years of more good than bad, we still disagree on the right place to hang the dishtowel, how many lights should be on at any given time and what should be hand washed versus what goes in the dishwasher.

But we both love each other, our dog, our daughter. He’s turned me into a hockey fan, and he now appreciates the finer points of a good board game. Our life makes us happy, even when we are overwhelmed by law school student loans x2 or the enormous task of raising a well rounded, polite, and happy child. There is no one else I’d rather be overwhelmed with, the guy that brings home a sentimental bottle of wine because it reminds him of our honeymoon (Napa Valley), who sets out my coffee thermos the night before I have to get up early to go into the office, and never complains that I DVR every episode of Grey’s Anatomy even though I’m 2.5 seasons behind.

And as much as life sometimes overwhelms, it is also full of the small moments and sweet times and I’m glad he is my person for those. For the farmer’s market and the swim lessons, the nights where Gracie runs around like a crazy headless chicken and we just laugh, for the times the dog chases his own tail and we are entertaining, our house full of good smells and food and friends, and we lock eyes from across the room and we both smile, knowing exactly what the other is feeling.

I’m just thankful he’s my person.




Gracie was a little under the weather this weekend (a little cough and sniffly nose) so we opted to take it easy. Saturday morning we skipped swim class in an effort to keep her out of the not-heated-to-bathtub-temp pool and spare the other kids in case she was contagious. However B was sailing and she and I had to run and get some groceries and refills for her “vapor” nightlight. While at Target she was dressed in a slightly mismatched way- black Toms, grey/pink sweat suit, a pink pow, and a navy and pink coat thrown over the ensemble. Match she did not, but she is not yet 2 and I think you get a pass. Anyway, as we were checking out an older lady in line behind us began chatting with her, asking about the snack she was muching on (Joe’s O’s), and generally being kind. Midway through the lady looked up at me and barked out “Wait. Is it a boy?”

There were so many things I could have (or perhaps should have) done but I just kind of shook my head no and said “Nope, girl.”

It? I try *really* hard not to get all “special snowflake” about my child (she is our special snowflake, she doesn’t have to be yours, or the world’s) and I am not one of those “children should be seen everywhere and you must love them and accept them” types either…but can you refrain from calling my child “it”? And furthermore, if the black shoes and blue snack cup holder override the pink bow, the pink jacket trim and the pink stitching on the sweats (which are admittedly a little 80’s, but whatever they are warm and cozy) just let it go. Go home and tell your friends all about the weird Mom you saw who dressed their child in a confusing manner. Let them tell you a blue snack cup holder does not a boy make. But don’t ask me what “it” is.

End rant.

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