About a year ago Gwyn went to the doctor for an annual check-up and received her two-year immunizations. She screamed the entire visit. Shortly afterward she began requesting the story—“Tell the story about going to the doctor”—three, four, even five times a day. Almost twelve months later we still tell the story with countless variations; …
My mother-in-law’s church has issued a spiritual challenge to its members: Buy nothing new for a whole year. In response, support groups have sprung up like weeds. There are purists whose underwear will grow thin, there are realists who gather to weigh alternatives before making a purchase, and there are new communication networks to facilitate …
After dropping Gwyn off for her first morning of preschool—she was too interested in the puzzles to say goodbye—I came home and cried. I was proud that she was eager and ready; I was thrilled for some extra time in my week; I grieved the seven hours I now won’t see her; and I ached …
9.15.11 Despite our determination to teach Gwyn to pick up her toys, our house is littered with things: paperclips moved from the office to her toy kitchen, a nickel on the back of the toilet, Mardi Gras beads in the mixing bowl—you get the picture. I spend a ridiculous amount of time putting things away. …