When Story was eight months old, I began to write to her every night. It was my way of releasing that emotional energy that had built up throughout the day. There was just such a mashup of love, frustration, fear, awe, and excitement that at times my heart felt like it would burst. So I wrote. Every day. I tried to capture her story. I tried to capture Story. Of course, there were times when I was so exhausted (aka Mom Brain) that I could hardly put a sentence together, so I just made a list of what her favorite things of the day were. But even those lists were a snapshot of her life, recorded for later days when I want to revisit those early years or perhaps when Story has her own children.
Nurture Her Nature
My number-one goal as a parent is to raise successful, independent adults (see When Doing Your Job Breaks Your Heart). The world and Internet are full of advice on how to do this. If you spent enough time reading and thinking about all the messages you receive as a mom about how to do it right, you’d be able to create a step-by-step guide about the proper way to raise them — as told by society. In fact, I bet that list is probably a Google search away. It’s a search I dare not do. According to it, I’ve been ruining my kids for four years now. These are just the top eight that I can think of. (more…)
Family, friends, colleagues, strangers stuck with me in the elevator—STORY IS INTERESTED IN LEARNING TO READ! You’ve no idea how long I’ve waited for this day. Well, if you’ve spent more than five minutes with me in the last three years, you probably do. You see, I’ve had a not-at-all-unreasonable fear that I would be the only editor/writer with an illiterate child.
Story has always loved books. She loved to gum them. She loved to chew on them. She loved to color in them. She loved to spread them out all over her bedroom floor. And she loved for me to read them to her. But she had no interest whatsoever in learning to read them.
by Elizabeth Stasny
Later this morning, I have to take Rebecca to move into her dorm room. The car is packed with her stuff. She has been preparing for the move all summer — buying XL twin bed sheets, bedspread, new computer, books, clothes (after all, she wore a uniform to school until now), and more. On Monday night, we had a dry run — she insisted that we pack everything into the car to make sure it would fit. After a bit of consolidating, we fit it all into the Honda Civic. It really is going to happen — Rebecca will be leaving for college. (more…)
This Thursday marks the second anniversary of our moving into our home. Our house-versary. Each year, I celebrate. Not a decorate-and-bake-a-cake type of celebration but definitely a little something special for dinner. Each year, though, as I look at the date on the calendar, I have a slight moment of hesitation. It seems, even to me, like a silly thing to celebrate. Acknowledgment seems appropriate, but celebration? My mind goes into debate.