If I could press pause on Artie’s age, it would probably be right now.Continue reading “This is the age”
A few weeks after the baby was born, my mother called and advised me to start keeping a diary for him.
“Just a line or so every day,” she said. “They change so quickly and you’ll want to remember the smaller moments from these days.”Continue reading “Portrait of the Baby at Nine Months”
Our neighbors have a fat toddler.
Continue reading “Sydney Coronavirus Days, 2”
I’m not so much inspired to write this blog by recent events as I am by Tom’s brother and mom, who have recently started blogging from Vienna and Washington D.C., respectively, documenting their days unfolding in the midst of Coronavirus. Why not, I thought. One day I’ll want to look back and recall the flavor of these strange times. Continue reading “Sydney Coronavirus Days, 1”
I should be napping because the baby is (finally) napping, but these blog posts aren’t going to write themselves.
Since my the last post, some things have gotten easier. Cracked nipples have healed and I no longer stay up later to pump. Going out and about with the baby has become a normal occurrence and something I look forward to. Continue reading “Mr. Baby, Go to Sleep”
Before getting pregnant, I first had to remove the copper goalie in my cervix, which by the way, I highly recommend to those looking for hormone-free birth control. I did this in Washington D.C., a few months after our wedding, at one of OneMedical’s light-and-plant-filled modern offices. I met with a friendly, young female doctor who had no children herself, but who had done some reading on the topic. Continue reading “Good Books to Read While Pregnant (or Not Pregnant)”
|Tiger Flying a Helicopter, 2015 Charlene Pen on Paper.|
This morning, I read this blog post from one of my favorite bloggers:
Greetings from San Mateo, California, where my brother and sister-in-law live with their newborn baby – my nephew – Dylan and their dog Poochy. Dylan is cute. In all the ways babies ought to be, as though cobbled together from various types of bread: with arms like just-baked dinner rolls, belly like a giant loaf of sourdough, hands and feet like delicate braided pastries and a gleaming, puffy face which, for some reason, reminds me of a doughnut. A glazed donut when he cries. Continue reading “What is Good Parenting?”