Category: Kindred Mom

Not what you expected? Don’t miss the magic

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When I was pregnant with my firstborn, I was ninety-eight percent convinced I was carrying a boy.

I couldn’t tell you why—but I was quite sure. And you know better than to argue with a pregnant lady.

So when the ultrasound tech confidently declared, “Girl!” I blinked, perplexed, and looked at my husband, Dan. Girl?We were certain they would find boy parts, not girl parts, on that fuzzy black and white screen.

As one of five sisters, I was over the moon at this news. A little girl! I knew how to do girl stuff. This could be good. The names we’d been tossing around probably weren’t going to work, though.

As it happened, by the time we got to our car in the parking lot of the doctor’s office, my imagination had taken off again. I could just picture our little girl: a tiny brunette with dark brown eyes, like mine. (Fast-forward a bit, and the girl is blonde as can be, curls aplenty, with the most beautiful green-gray eyes.)

By that point—18 weeks of not being able to keep food down, glow nowhere to be found—you’d think I would have caught on that none of this was under my control.

Please click here to read the rest of this essay for Kindred Mom’s Comparison & Contentment series. I’m honored to be a Writer-in-Residence on the Kindred Mom team this fall! 

Kids live here

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I’d like to invite you into my home for a minute. Come on in!

Oh! Those are just milk and orange juice stains on the couch, but if you’d rather sit in one of the chairs, you can move those Legos! (That couch has also been with us through two newborns and two potty-trainings, but I’d never bring this up in front of you, my guest.)

Anyway. Can I get you a glass of water, or maybe a cup of coffee?

The living room floor, as you can see, is a little cluttered—watch out for the stack of library books, the Shopkins “setup” (please don’t touch that), the train whistle, the Magna Doodle, and those Crate & Barrel throw pillows I splurged on a few years ago. (I thought for sure we’d be able to keep them in good shape, but as it turns out they make the perfect lily pads for child-size frogs when the rug is a pond.)

Don’t worry about using a coaster. No, seriously.

Please click here to read the rest of this essay for Kindred Mom’s Cultivating Home series. I’m honored to be a Writer-in-Residence on the Kindred Mom team this fall!

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“Less house, more home” sign in photo above is from Chalk Full of Design.

Just eat something

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I don’t like to label my kids, but sometimes you’ve got to call it like you see it, and what I see are a couple of picky eaters.

This doesn’t surprise me much—I’m a picky eater too. In my defense, as an adult I eat a whole lot more than my childhood staples of peanut butter and jelly, macaroni and cheese, buttered noodles, sour cream and onion Pringles, and salad. (I use the term salad loosely, because I’m not 100 percent sure that iceberg lettuce drowned in Hidden Valley Ranch counts.) And for my kids’ part, they both eat foods that as an adult, I still steer clear of.  

Even so, I feel the need to offer a disclaimer: If you’re looking for words of advice or practical tips on getting your kids to broaden their palate horizons, you might need a different essay from a different mom.

I can, however, offer you a fist bump or a high five or a hug, whichever you prefer, and some solidarity if you, too, find yourself dreading dinnertime because feeding little people can be hard.

Please click here to read the rest of this essay for Kindred Mom’s Around the Table series. I’m honored to be a Writer-in-Residence on the Kindred Mom team this fall!

 

The Tooth Fairy Chronicles

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My oldest daughter lost her first tooth—bottom front—a little over a week past her sixth birthday. We’d been waiting for that tiny, wiggly thing to fall out for far too long. I went jelly-legged every time she showed me how she could push it all the way forward and back with her tongue. (What is it about loose teeth that makes me feel like I need to put my head between my knees?)

Our excitement and anticipation over the Tooth Fairy’s first visit was palpable.

Did I mention that this child of mine is the queen of bric-a-brac, a collector of Important Items? Recently evicted baby teeth, we were about to learn, were very important…

I’m delighted to be a contributor to the Kindred Mom blog today with a fun little piece about Tooth Fairy correspondence. Please click here to read the rest!

Eggs in a Basket: About Secondary Infertility

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“For the next four years I hovered in a confusing place of wondering whether I was even capable of conceiving another child. If it was medically impossible, I didn’t want to know. When you start marking years off the calendar, you begin to assume the worst.

Learning about secondary infertility from an article online was the catalyst for me to let go of my dreams. It was a self-diagnosis, but it was enough. We enrolled Evelyn in preschool; I went back to work. We dipped our toes into adoption research. Life just… moved on.” 

Today I have the honor of sharing a bit of my family’s story as a guest on the Kindred Mom blog. Please click here to read the rest!