When We Say Thank You

November 26, 2014

When We Say Thank You

Edited from the archives

Thank you for first snows. For a little boy who asks, “Should we sing, Mommy? Should we sing about the snow?”

Thank you for his face. His gummy smiles and belly laughs. Thank you for his gentleness. His arms around my neck and whispered, “I love you.” Thank you for his strong will. For a voice loud enough to scream and cry. For healthy limbs strong enough to throw all the blocks on the floor.

Thank you for deep breaths. For redos and new days and I’m sorrys.

Thank you for stretch marks. These long and weary battle scars. For a body able to grow a life, a whole human baby made up of wild hair and bright, blue eyes. Thank you for her sweet breath and open-mouthed kiss. For her loud and independent spirit.

Thank you for family. For parents who drive long drives to play with their grandbabies and sisters who don’t care if your house is messy and come over to paint your nails.

Thank you for friends. For the ones you cry with, roll your eyes with. For the ones you say all the saddest, darkest things with. Thank you for the ones who help clean up. Who watch all the bad TV. Who patiently explain what a brine is.

Thank you for the guy who comes home every night and holds his babies. Who crawls on the floor despite long days and tired eyes and builds a tall tower. Thank you for his love. For making him into a man who folds his own laundry and carries everyone to bed.

Thank you for turkey and gravy and mashed potatoes. For Steve Carell and The Family Stone. Thank you for Christmas hymns and summer smells. For all the little things in between the big things that really matter.

Thank you for our tiredness. For giving us a life so rich that we cannot help but collapse at the end of the day.

Thank you for guarding us from the darkest demons.

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We use the word blessed a lot these days, as if God flew down from heaven and gave us our Chevron sweaters and drive-thru Paneras because we did something right. As if it means those who don’t have new cars or Pinterest kitchens are less loved or less chosen by God.

And so I whisper quiet thank yous up into the sky, hoping not to jinx such a blessed and happy life.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

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The Social Media Mom (But Seriously, What Sippy Cup?)

November 25, 2014

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When you have spawn, especially young spawn, there are so many boring questions to answer. Like, are these pajamas warm enough? Should we try feeding her sweet potatoes again? Does my toddler think Daniel Tiger’s mom is nicer than me?

The problem is that even when the questions are boring and we know it doesn’t really matter–it’s easy to obsess over the answer. Analyze it from all angles. Turn sexy pillow talk into a 45 minute discussion on cold medicine.

And then every once in a while, desperation strikes and we turn into social media momsters.

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It is so embarrassing.

Last month I spent innumerable hours of my precious time thinking about the do’s and don’ts of pacifiers. Should I let her have them out of her bed? What about the car? Am I giving her a tooth gap? WILL SHE STILL NEED A PACIFIER IN HIGH SCHOOL.

I could have been watching The Mindy Project.

As far as sippy cups go, I am sadly serious.

We skipped sippy cups with Waylon. He went straight from the breast to regular cups and water bottles and we never looked back. It was glorious.

This time around, we have a bottle fed baby who apparently needs a transition. Of course we’d love to bottle feed her like a baby lamb until forever, but I’m trying to be realistic.

So far we have these guys and this one too. I know nothing. Any to recommend?

Are you ever that social media mom?

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