Thursday, December 27, 2012


Will is my baby. My sweet, sweet boy.

He has many nicknames, which is funny because "Will" seems like a tough name to change up. He's most often affectionately called Wilson, but also answers to Buddy, Wilsonator and occasionally Wilberforce.

He has huge serious eyes, an adorable gap-toothed smile and sparse wispy hair.

He loves to climb and explore, and had broken both an arm and a leg by his first birthday.

He cries whenever anyone leaves the house, even if it's someone he's just met. I'm not sure if it's because he is sad to see them go, or if it's because he wishes he could go with them.

He was the most beautiful and perfect newborn I've ever seen.

Around the time he turned 18 months, I realized that he had far below the average 20 words that a child of his age should be able to say. He could say around 5 words, but mostly said "daddy". I taught him sign language for "please", but left it at that; assuming more words would be coming soon. As time passed, nothing really changed.

He will be 2 next month and can say about 10 words.

He is beginning speech therapy next month, and I'm excited to see the ways it will help him. Will is such a smart boy and understands so much, and I cannot imagine how frustrating it must be to be unable to communicate. It makes me sad that I have to guess at what he wants, how he happened to get hurt, etc.

I was excited this week, because he spontainiously said "Colin"! He has never made the "K" sound before, so this was huge! He also pointed to a picture of Mary holding baby Jesus and said, "Jesus". I don't know where these words randomly come from, but it's wonderful when he can finally shape sounds into meaning.

I am thankful to be the mother of this sweet and adventurous boy. We've shared two years of fun and books and snuggles and dancing around the kitchen to Mumford and Sons...and I can't wait to hear the things he's been thinking about.

Sunday, December 16, 2012


Dead babies.

20 slaughtered babies.

There's nothing I can say about that. I can't even comprehend it.

I'm ashamed to say my first response was relief. Thankfulness that it wasn't my children in those classrooms. I want to push away the horrifying story, gather my babies close and read them books, feed them pb&j sandwiches, watch them make messes, laugh at their funny childish insights, scold them, play games with them, brush their teeth and tuck them into bed.

It makes me cry to think that there is a little town where twenty families have their storybooks put away.

Twenty homes where peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are no longer on the menu.

Twenty childish bedrooms that are achingly clean.

Twenty homes where faces are twisted and tear stained and stomachs ache with grief.

Twenty moms and twenty dads wishing they had some mischief to scold. Or maybe wishing they been more patient.

Twenty games of Candy Land or even Chutes and Ladders that would now somehow be bearable.

Twenty little toothbrushes.

Twenty little empty beds.

I feel rich. And selfish. And so sad.

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better.
The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood;
who strives valiantly;
who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds.
who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions;
who spends himself in a worthy cause;
who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.
-Theodore Roosevelt

Wednesday, October 17, 2012


Nick's cousin was getting married on Saturday, an adults-only affair at the posh Weaver Ridge. (It must be The Year of Love for Nick's cousins, as THREE of them are getting married within five months; but I digress...)

We got all spiffed up, split the four kids between two babysitters and raced off to the wedding. I am hard wired to be punctual, so I could feel my heart beating a bit faster as I watched the dashboard clock and realized we'd be arriving at the wedding at approximately the same time as the wedding party began walking down the aisle.

We quickly found a parking spot, grabbed our gift from the trunk and ran across the parking lot in the rain. A large crowd of people were packed inside, waiting for the rain to stop falling...because, of course, it was an outdoor wedding.

We didn't recognize anyone, but thought maybe the people we saw were from the groom's side of the family. When we finally asked, it turned out to be a different wedding party and we were pointed down the hall to the "other wedding".

Guess what?! That wasn't our wedding, either.

We finally located the owner of WR, who took us to his office, scanned his calender and kindly pointed out that Nick's cousin was getting married NEXT Saturday.

If you only knew how Type A organized I am, you would be laughing as hysterically as Nick and I were. The owner invited us down to the bar and gave us drinks on the house for our "inconvenience", which turned this funny, crazy day into a legitimate DATE! We sat at the bar, in nice clothes, drinking free drinks. It was awesome.

Now we're all practiced up for NEXT Saturday!