You Can't Take It With You

On the drive to school this morning, my kindergartner was looking through my purse.

Meg: Mommy, when you die, can I have your red wallet?
Me: Sure.
Meg: Yay!

Dinner last night: fettuccine with scallops

Exactly one year ago:

And the Oscar for Best Cowlick Goes to . . .

The Journey

I have never felt more like a mom than I do right now. I'm in a stage of life at the moment where my kids seem to really need my services. I'm providing most of the cooking, cleaning, driving, watching, and listening. I am to be seen and not heard. My girls need me around, but they don't want my advice or criticism. My encouragement of their endeavors must be discreet and unwavering.

My days are a little weird, but kind of fun. Two kids don't like cheese; the other two insist on a slice of cheddar on their turkey sandwiches. One kid loves competition; one kids avoids team sports at all costs; the youngest just want to roam free and play without any structure. They all have long hair, but each has a favorite hairstyle. No ponytails for one, only ponytails for another, french braid for a third, and I'm not allowed to touch the head of the fourth kid—she'll comb her own hair, thank you very much.

My husband's elderly aunt visited our home a few years ago. The twins were toddlers. The older girls were messy and clueless, forgetting to shut the door as they ran in and out, in and out. The house was loud and crazy. She loved it. Her husband passed long ago, and she's lived longer as a widow than as a married woman. Her own children are middle-aged, married with grown children of their own. She told me to enjoy it while I've got it.

I am.



Dinner last night: ham-potato bake

Exactly two years ago:

Untitled, Mommy with Teeth

Lawn Ornament

I was driving through a neighborhood when I spied this guy hanging out in someone's yard. I rolled down my window and snapped a shot with my cell phone. (Why do my cell phone pics always come out blurry and/or pixelated, while my husband's look like this?)

There's a reason why good fences make good neighbors.

Dinner last night: spaghetti and turkey meatballs

Exactly four years ago:

Friday's Five: Michele

Thank Goodness I'm Not One of Those Moms Who Brags About Her Kids

My 14-year-old daughter is a freshman in high school. When did that happen? This time travel stuff is crazy. I blanked out some time in 1998 and woke up the other day with a teenager blowdrying her hair in the bathroom.

My firstborn loves team sports. She played volleyball in the fall, and is in the middle of an exciting basketball season. She's a starter on the JV team, but was asked to travel with the varsity girls last weekend to a 3-day tournament. I figured she'd warm the bench, but she actually played. And scored!

I think the coach likes the way she steals the ball from the other team and races down for a lay-up.


Dinner last night: leftovers

Exactly three years ago:

Score!