A blog in letters. Two friends dish on family, careers, and the food that gets them through.
Ma chere amie,
Let me start this letter by stating up front that I love my children. More than anything. They mean the world to me. I’d go to the ends of the earth and back for them. But as you know, two children are a lot of work....
Read MoreMy dear dear amie,
Your last letter had me laughing and teary all at the same time. You are such a champ. And, just so you know, these last few months of your single parenting have inspired me. Not to actively seek out single parenting situations - God no. Just to push myself in my parenting comfort zones. I finally took the kids to a restaurant by myself (ok, it was frozen yogurt, but still) and took them both swimming at our local pool (probably not to be repeated anytime soon, but I did it). I even tried to do a bit more in the kitchen during the times Tygh wasn't around to tag-team. Hence, the following revelation.
Read MoreLibs,
Because of you I have discovered so many things I may not otherwise have tried: chausson au pomme, Shu Uemura's eyelash curler, and the Belly Bandit post-pregnancy belly wrap thing, among so many others. All have had a great impact on my life and, as such, I feel it is incumbent upon me to share a couple recent discoveries of my own. Neither is anything too crazy; they are both just different (yet really good) granola/cereal-type foods.
Read MoreHey you!
I know you have been swamped with the recent move, the new job and kids, so I imagine you have been getting up earlier and earlier just to get a few things done without a million interruptions.
I remember when I was younger and my parents would voluntarily get up at 5am, before everyone was awake, even on the weekends. I always thought that was so bizarre - why wouldn't you sleep for as long as you possibly could? What could be so important that you would have to get up at 5am to do it? And is this why they were nearly narcoleptic at 9pm on the couch every night?
Now, I understand. Now I realize that the only time of the day during which there are no children, and one is not yet worn out by a day with children, is at 5 in the morning.
Read MoreBilly,
This time of year, it’s hard to get away from pumpkin. And I’ve totally fallen victim. The problem, of course, is that there are so many pumpkin recipes out there, sometimes it's hard to file through them all for the good ones, the ones actually worth making. Plus, in this season of entertaining, I really wanted to find a couple of breakfast go-tos that were simple enough for June to help with, but also impressive enough to plunk down for an impromptu brunch. So I’m dropping you a quick letter to share two great ones.
Read MoreHi friend!!!
As you know, Tygh and I celebrated our tenth anniversary last week. As in, 10 years of being married. Ten years of “Pookey” and “Schnookums.” Ten years of “Yes, dear ” and “Of course, my love.” Essentially, ten years of perfect harmony and bliss.
Or, at least something very close.
Yes. It was perfect. For awhile. But then something important happened - something that changed everything. Something that I feared would break us.
Last week, Tygh confessed to me that there was something he’d been thinking about for awhile. Something he’d been dreaming about quietly, behind my back. Something he’d even researched a bit when I wasn’t home.
In lieu of eating our usual, amazing, perfect morning granola – our granola quotidienne – the one we have been enjoying for years – Tygh had recently decided he was ready to try something new. A different granola. With different ingredients. With…with…dare I say it? With quinoa.
Quin-whaaaaaaat?
Read MoreLibs,
As you know, I started my new job this week, which is at the same time exciting and exhausting. Meeting new people (whose names I can never remember), learning new systems while still trying to be efficient and accurate – it’s daunting.
But, as I am sure you will agree, all of that takes a second to the emotional toll of leaving the littles for 12 hours at a time. My kids have always had a caretaker, because I have always worked. Full-time with my first, and part-time now, but still – they know what it means when “Mommy has to work today.”
June is great about it – this is old news to her and she knows the drill. She will still get to go to all of her classes and have her play dates – her day will go on as usual. And Harvey is a baby – too young to really know the difference. So it should be easy peasy, right? Well…
Read MorePlease be honest. Because much of my confidence as a parent is riding on this. What does Dash eat? Like, on any given day? Is it, like, the same 10 foods?
Because, try as I might – with exposure (we try to eat all manner of things in any given week – from vindaloo to cheesy grits), involvement (I’ve been known to bake multiple batches of cookies in one day just to get June in the kitchen measuring and “enjoying” the art of cooking), gentle “one-bite-of-everything-on-your-plate-regardless-of-whether-or-not-it-makes-you-gag” rules, and, embarrassingly, the old “no-dessert-until-you-try-whatever-it-is-I-have-made-goddamn-it” ultimatum – the kid always ends up eating the same damn things.
Read MoreSweet, sweet amie. How lovely it is to wake at 3:45am to a hungry infant and see your text and know that I am not alone.
I honestly didn’t think it was possible to be this tired and still be awake. I mean, I’ve been tired before. Really really tired. 30-hour–shift-in–residency-tired. But, at least then, there was a mandate requiring I get a compensatory 16 hours off of any duty, at all, for rest and recuperation. Don’t pilots have the same thing? And truck drivers? Why not parents? I’m going on three years of sleep deprivation, here.
Remember when that study came out showing that driving while tired is akin to driving while intoxicated? So, can that be extended to parenting? I mean, am I just as useless to my children tired as I would be drunk? A poor comparison on a couple of levels. For one, I think we can both agree that I am way more fun when drunk than when tired. And two, no one will ever arrest me for being too tired to parent. Even when I wish they would because at least then, I could get some sleep! No way a noisy cell is any more disruptive to sleep patterns than a screaming infant or a sick preschooler.
The true problem with this intense fatigue is that it makes me the absolute worst version of myself. My patience falls precipitously to unfairly low levels (I mean, how can my just-past-three-year-old daughter forget to flush every fucking time?), I look hideous (those poor bastards at my local grocery asked me today if I needed help - not “help bagging,” or “help out to [my] car,” just “help”), and I’m overly suspicious of the motives of everyone in my family (currently, I’m convinced that little Harvey, barely 7 weeks old, is taunting me from his basinet where he is visibly REMing). What. The. Fuck. Question mark.
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