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Because it’s only forever

This week the ladies had class portraits taken at school — not individual portraits, which are taken at the beginning of the year, but a picture of the entire class with the teacher, and which are infinitely cooler than the ones taken when we were kids because a) they’re digital (meaning most of the kids…

Spirit Day

In two years, she hasn’t missed a Spirit Day: Pajama Day, Wild Hair Day, Hippie Day, Wacky Hat Day, Crazy Moustache Day — a sea of sartorially silly days. (She’s at an outlying horizon of extroversion, and when there is a contest and prizes involved, monomaniacally competitive. She is, in both these ways, precisely my…

Uhhhh…

Today I was going through a stack of the kindergartener’s artwork and came across these: I don’t know what went down, or what the hell this even means, but I’m pretty sure the 5-year-old’s about to get gangsta on Tink and her little winged friends.

Her limerick was filthier

So in a moment alone together the other night, the four-year-old pipes up with a fragment of her latest mental gymnastics: “Mama! ‘Bell’ rhymes with ‘HELL’!!” Precious, am I right?! I mean, that’s one adorable plate-load of Sugar/Spice/Nice&#169 we’ve got right there! (And I wonder why none of the other preschool Mommies will talk to…

Jingle Hell

Later this week, Michael and I will have our five-year anniversary, and a week after that, Eliot will turn four. (Yeah, go ahead and do the fucking math, Smugley. We were in love, that socially acceptable form of insanity.) So what that means is that after several years of catastrophic missteps, this year we have…

Swine flu changed everything

When it comes to flu shots, as parents, Michael and I are THOSE PEOPLE: the ones who refuse to immunize their children. Now granted, we’re not THOSE PEOPLE, the whole hog, total anti-vaccination nutjobs who think an MMR is behind autism and back fat and low credit scores, or that the Hep B immunization is…

If you touch a hair on her head. . .

With Eliot, I had few sentimental attachments to her babyhood — it was as though infancy and each stage after was something to be endured and raced through on the way to the next (presumably easier) stage. Baby clothes and toys were packed away, bottles were sanitized and stowed in boxes, the Co-Sleeper folded into…

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