inspired by a beautiful woman who was brave enough to stand up in a panel I participated in at Blissdom Canada and ask a question
When people ask you what you write about, how often do you reply, “I just write about my kids”
Just.
The weight of that one little word…. Continue reading this post »
Bras are a lot like babies.
Now before you suggest I spend a little time away from my laptop with some actual babies, let me explain
Your bra may not be at all like a baby, but mine are. Continue reading this post »
I’ve been thinking a lot about what I complain about. As I sit here, at 11pm with a five year old who can’t sleep on my lap.
I complain a lot online about my kids. And sometimes in person.
They fight.
They sing different songs, all at once. Fighting with volume for who will get my attention.
They are constantly in need. Of a hug, of a sandwich. Of an audience.
I have the scars of a mother. On my heart and on my body.
And yet, I know. I know how lucky I am. Continue reading this post »
A few weeks ago, Benny decided he wanted to cook us dinner. From start to finish. Plan the menu and do all the cooking. It took him about five minutes to have his siblings on board and the cookbooks out.
How could I say no? I made promises to both my boys when they were born to send them into the world being able to cook and play at least one song on the guitar. They will thank me later…
Four weeks, and four dinners later, here are my five ways to let your kids cook, without losing your mind. Continue reading this post »
Nine years ago this morning, I wasn’t a mother.
I had never paced a hall at night, waiting for a fever to break or for sleep to come.
Nine years ago, I didn’t know The Cat in the Hat by heart.
And the idea of a day having 24 hours was just a concept.
Nine years ago I didn’t know the best “I love you’s” come from three year olds. Continue reading this post »
Whether with two little blue lines, late night feedings or maternity jeans, the experience of Motherhood starts. There are moments of definition, that change us from who we were before children. These moments can dance in blissfully, or run us over like a freight train.
Over 150 women entered our writing contest for Mother’s Day and shared their stories of when Motherhood began for them. Each story was unique, and universal. Continue reading this post »
I’ve been spending this morning, and the last few days, reading all the beautiful entries to the Nummies Mother’s Day Writing Contest. There are so many amazing stories of motherhood, and I am so grateful to be reading each and every one.
So, I am reading and drinking coffee, as I do, when I come across and entry from Jackson, who blogs at www.JackandTheBabyTalk.com. His story made me smile, and so i thought I would share it with you. Continue reading this post »
She is sleeping. Fast asleep on the sofa still in her rubber boots. I can hear her breathing across the room.
She is sleeping and today she is five.
There aren’t enough words to describe her. There isn’t enough time to tell you about her smile, or how many things she can tell me with just her eyes. I can’t tell you enough stories of her mischief to make you understand the light she brings into a room.
She’s poetry. Accidental art. Double rainbows across the sky.
I will never be able to tell her I love her enough times. Or protect her from all the spiders, or thunderstorms, or heartbreak time will bring her. I don’t know the answers to all her questions already, and she is still so very brand new. Continue reading this post »
I was two months pregnant with Jakob when it happened. Walking along Eglington, back to our apartment from the subway after a day at work. Just a regular day.
Aside from now needing to smell a restaurant before going in, and a ravenous love of Caesar salad, I had been feeling pretty much my usual self.
I wasn’t too attached to the little thing inside me yet. It was pretty surreal really. Nothing much had changed in my life. It just seemed like one more thing I was doing that day. Working, coming home, walking the dog, being pregnant… Continue reading this post »
When my boys were younger, about 5 and 3, they made up their own language.
They called it Kids Dutch. They had reached the age where their Dad and Grandparents had started trying to teach them real Dutch words and had steadfastly formed a coalition against it. Continue reading this post »
