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Their Bad Mother

Yeah, so. This is going to sound crazy – I am going to sound crazy – but I’ve decided to drive across Canada. Well, not just me – I actually don’t drive, so this crazy lady is going to do it – and the kids, of course, have to come along – and we’ll have…

My grandpa died this weekend. He was elderly, but still. It was unexpected. It was totally unexpected. I was going to see him next week. I was bringing his great-grandchildren to see him next week. We were going to see him next week. Now we’re not. We’ll go on, we’ll continue – of course, of…

Beat It was one of the very first albums that I owned. Oh, I had, of course, a collection of Disney Pops, and the soundtracks to Annie and Star Wars and the like, but Beat It was the first real pop album that I ever owned. And I listened to it endlessly. I danced to…

Emilia, June 2006. Be still, my heart. A Wordless Wednesday Jam, which henceforth is going to be Wordless This Wednesday In History Wednesdays. Because I am forgetting too much. Join me if you feel so inspired.

I might be, I think, one of the very few people in the Western Hemisphere who is not, this very minute, watching Jon & Kate Plus Eight to hear Jon and Kate announce the dissolution of their marriage. Which is funny, I suppose, seeing as I have found them, and the media furor surrounding them,…

My Dad. Who was and is the first man in my life. Who has and will always have my heart. Who I love forever, and always. Happy Father’s Day, Dad. I love you.

Me to Jasper: Say Mommy! Jasper: Dad! Me: Say Mommy! Jasper: Dad! Me: Say Mom! Jasper: Dad! Me: Mom! Jasper: Dad! Me: Mom! Jasper: Dad! Me: Please say Mommy! Mom! Mom! Mom! Jasper: Dad Dad Dad Dad DAD! And so it begins.

Emilia had her first dance recital this past weekend. There really are no words for how it feels to watch your daughter – your little girl! your baby! – walk away from you and then reappear on a brightly lit stage, dancing and stomping her little heart out, dancing and stomping for you and for…

I spent yesterday morning in a hospital waiting room. Two hours or so, waiting for a doctor to see Emilia, whose face and neck had swollen grotesquely in reaction to a bug bite. Was she allergic? Had the bug bit become infected? Was she mutating into the bug? I didn’t know. And not knowing things…

So I wrote a post the other day, continuing my ruminations on Kate Gosselin and why she is  so judged and why that’s a problem for me and for everyone, et cetera, but it was – as a few readers pointed out – incomplete and unclear. In raising the question of whether or not a…
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