Alarm clocks

Franz Krischke, Old clock

I’d just signed Artie out at pickup when his after school teacher, a young woman named Miss Bai, came up to me.

“Arthur is so cute,” she said. I relaxed a little bit. These short exchanges during pickup are often when she provides feedback – most of which is positive: “Arthur played very well today, not too rough.” Or, “Arthur spent most of his free play time coloring in. He likes cars, especially fast, expensive ones, so you could also print some coloring sheets out at home for him.” But sometimes she’ll tell me that he did, albeit unintentionally, play too rough with some unfortunate classmate or that he had a harder time than usual keeping his fingers out of his mouth.

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Low energy parents

Last night, just before Tom and I settled onto my parents’ lumpy couch to watch “The Wire“*, my dad said, “Aren’t you going to put the laundry on?”

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This is Not the Age

When Artie was around 18 months, Tom and I felt like we’d gotten into a good rhythm. I’d written this post a few months before and was still enjoying this early phase of toddlerhood. Artie was happy at home, happy at his daycare, happy at our friends’ homes and various playgrounds where he proved to be surprisingly independent. He was always down to explore or up for a jump.

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Don’t Blink

Norman Rockwell Triple Self Portrait
Norman Rockwell, Triple Self Portrait,  1960 

“It feels like your wedding was ages ago,” my cousin said on the phone last night.

It does and it doesn’t. We’ve been stumbling back into real life, the first week a blur thanks to jet lag, and now, three weeks in, the muted “oh…” feeling has fully settled in: the realization that, after the wedding, nothing really changes about you or your spouse or your life unless you make it so.  Continue reading “Don’t Blink”