In the single digit hours of the night, the youngest family member appeared beside our bed, quietly whispering that he needed to snuggle. Doug scooped him up and put him between us in the bed. I adjusted his pillow and covers. He flung an arm over me to let me know that I shouldn’t move. […]
An email from Supertween
NEVER EVER EVER EVER EVER TRY TO TEACH EVAN MATH IT WILL NEVER WORK HE DOES NOT LISTEN HE IS ALSO VERY RUDE&MEAN!!!!!!’!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:( 🙁 🙁 🙁 🙁 🙁 🙁 🙁 This weekend, I will be having a serious discussion with Supertween… about the caps lock key and only using one exclamation point.
boy v. girl
“Mooooom!” Amy’s voice is extremely animated and expressive. She has a very specific tone if the problem is her little brother. When I heard her call me in that special way of hers, I expected to see her brother sitting on her, trying to steal a toy or doing any of the many, many things […]
Amy: puts can of Shrek soup on counter “Can I have Shrek soup with dinner?” Me: “Sure.” Evan: puts can of Cars soup on counter “Can I have Lightning McQueen soup with dinner?” Me: “We will have one soup. You and Amy need to agree on which one.” Evan: drops can of Shrek soup on […]
mastering sibling rivalry
Amy: “Evan, you stay out of my room or I will call the police and they’ll put you in jail.” Evan: “Mommmmy!” – – – – – – – – – – – – – Amy: “Where’s my penguin that was in the living room?’ Evan: “I called police and they put it in jail.” […]
How to know it’s time to go home:
falling like dominos
The plague is slowly working its’ way through our house. Sarah was the first to spike the fever that never ends and sleep like Rip Van Winkle. The only sign remaining that she was sick is her hacking cough and crotchety disposition. Now it’s Evan’s turn. His fever peaks in the wee hours of the […]
“Why can’t I have a twin? I want a twin.” Amy has a talent for demanding the impossible. I should have told her I gave her a room of her own for 9 months.
the Santa whisperer
In the escalating love-hate struggle between the 3 and 6 year-old, I have been cautiously optimistic that the 6-y-o would eventually start using her brain and stop using her tears. Yesterday, instead of the usual scream like a banshee and wail in misery because he “wouldn’t stop looking at me,” Amy locked herself in her […]