Yesterday I received news you dream of hearing. It wasn’t that I had won the lottery, or that I had become fully hydrated without having to drink water, or that John Krasinski had become my fan on Facebook. It was that Madeline had gone pee-pee in the potty at preschool. It’s a first. For weeks,…   read more

There are few things in life more sobering than waiting with a child who is about to vomit. I have been to funerals, ill-advised weddings, under-rehearsed school productions, and awkward Sunday brunches, but all of those pale in comparison to the dread-filled silence before your baby “yawns in technicolor.” I held vigil for four days…   read more

The worst thing Madeline can imagine in the entire universe, and then beyond to the universes outside of our known universe, and then on into oblivion, is hurting her knee. She hurt it once. Both knees, really. Fell BAM on the concrete driveway like a linebacker lunging (and missing) his target. The cold SLAP of…   read more

If you were to tell me the activities on today’s agenda a week ago, I would have thought that Satan and his worst demons had collaborated on the itinerary. Dentist. Mall. Chuck-E-Cheese. Gordon leaving me at home with Both Things for a two-day conference. Laundry. Even just the first item, Dentist, would have been enough…   read more

As I look ahead to 2013, or, to the remaining 361 days of it, I’m a little nervous. This is the first year in a long time where I haven’t been expecting a baby or planning a big vacation, a move, or a coup d’etat. Sure, there might be a show or two, there might…   read more

There was a time when I thought nicknames were limited to “Honey,” “Darlin’” (no g, ever), and “Sugar.” Those were the ones I heard my grandparents use the most, and it was sort of lovely to be lumped in with all the other Darlin’s in the family — that no matter who you were, you…   read more

It might just be that I am obsessed with “Downton Abbey,” but I really think Drew is developing into a British aristocrat. First, he has begun speaking in the third person. “Drew would yike a cup of yemonade, Mr. Mommy; Drew is scared; Drew went to the yittle park yesterday.” His speech therapist says he…   read more

Even a whole month after returning from Italy, Drew will whisper to me, “Mister Mommy, I missed you so much in Italy.” He says this at night when Gordon is reading to Madeline as I recline on the floor of her room. Drew sprawls out across my chest, pinching the loose skin on my slack…   read more

Drew likes to play God in Madeline’s life. He opens and shuts doors. He calls her name from faraway places. He determines if and when she can have a snack, if and when she should get up from her nap, if and when she is allowed to speak. Drew likes to control all of these…   read more

The short of it is: Drew is still calling me Mister Mommy, our PATS joke still holds water, and Madeline still remembers who gave her birth — despite the fact she has started calling me MOM like a 13-year-old. This began when we called home from our hotel in Rome. The babysitter put her on…   read more