I want to begin by telling you that Sam started out in a cup. He was in an orange medical container with a white lid, the kind they use to collect urine samples—and apparently semen as well. I carried him from our home to my doctor’s office, about 15 minutes down the road, between my…
Category: family
Summer of Independence
It’s still weird, the silence in the house. I wander around the living room, puttering, putting away toys and books and crayons. I make tea and sit by the kitchen table waiting for the water to boil. I suppress the urge to peek out the front door, walk down our driveway and look across the…
My Husband’s Always Traveling. How Is It Affecting Our Son?
Last night my husband’s suitcase was on our bed again. I hate to pack, but I like to help him because I know that otherwise he will look like a sad, worn-out businessman at his destination. I can fit about a week’s worth of shirts and ties and sweaters into his carry-on, and they usually…
When Being a Mother Is a Lonely Gig
Right before my son was born my mother said something to me that, at the time, didn’t make much sense. She said: “Your husband will love you and support you and will appreciate all of the sacrifices that you are making in raising this child. But in the end, you will be all alone with…
Teaching a child about death
The assignment at preschool was simple: draw a picture of your family. The teacher stapled 15 little pieces of paper on the bulletin board outside of the classroom once the drawings were finished. There were big families and small families. Families with pets, babies, and families that looked like tiny aliens. Our family, drawn on…
How I Learned to Cherish My Son’s Wild Imagination
Jackie the Jackalope came to live with us a couple of months ago. My son picked her out of a big bin of similar stuffed animals and immediately identified her as a jackalope. Jackie has soft, gray fur; a white belly; and velvety, floppy ears. I am not sure where Sam heard of jackalopes, or why he…
Snow day
By early afternoon both boys are restless. Sam refuses to nap or snuggle on the couch with me. Drew has finished working and is pacing up and down. He has already cleaned off his car and shoveled our steps. I am drifting off as the two of them bicker about going outside to play in…
Moving on
I was happy in this house. Not crazy, delirious happy, but happy. I wasn’t sure about it at first – the creaking floors, the yellow walls, the old doors and glass door handles, the wild backyard – it all seemed very foreign. It was clearly meant and built for someone else. I wasn’t sure how…
One and only
I am snuggled in bed with Sam – he is drinking milk and playing with my hair before his nap. Downstairs I hear the slow thump-thump-thump of Drew’s steps coming up from the basement – like a slow march towards something inevitable. He is on the main floor now, out the front door, making a…
This week
This week I cooked six meals, packed four lunch bags, polished shiny apples, measured perfect serving sizes, sliced grapes and tomatoes and bread. I wiped peanut butter off the floor, jam off the wall, dabbed a wet paper towel furiously on my new shirt with the fresh ketchup stain. I washed dishes, disinfected sippy cups,…
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