Last week, Isla and I went to pick out our Christmas tree and sat in the car while my Dad played Clark Griswold and he and Anne fought over knots tying their tree and our tree to the roof. Over this one, over here, clap your hands, make a wish. Apparently, it is a military exercise, and it does have to be that complicated. I insisted on a fat tree, which I got. But it might be too big for…
I had plans this weekend. I was going to write at least 3 blog posts (I don’t usually write blog posts ahead of time but I’m realizing I need to start), read for 24in48 readathon and drink lots of coffee and cider. Isla was spending the weekend with the localist grandparents, and I was going to GET SHIT DONE. Because my time management sucks, I’ve read a grand total of 7 books this year, and I need to stop wasting…
It’s been an interesting couple of days in the not so frosty North. I wanted to write a letter to Neil about our fifth wedding anniversary, about how one day we got married and the next day Isla was nearly four and having her first dance recital. That’s exactly what happened. I was heavily pregnant for our first wedding anniversary. We went to the zoo, I forgot my three gallons of ice-tea, and I actually ended up in the…
A few months ago, I was on a self-care kick. I bought three mindfulness magazines made from recycled paper, and a candle that smells of books. This was it. I was going to read through the magazines with the candle going. I was going to learn how to relax, and maybe even get some sleep. And yet. The magazines sit unread in various corners and different piles. The candle is still sealed. I’m still not sleeping, but that’s OK. I’ve…
I am a mother. I am disabled. I am sometimes a disabled mother. Isla went back to nursery school today, after mid-winter break. I enjoyed having her home for three days. I’m also enjoying being able to write this post in silence, without cartoons in the background, while she is at school. This morning we had our usual cuddles with TV and waffles before what Isla calls ‘the team effort’ to get her dressed. She’s hopping around, pulling her jeans…
