This week Sadie suddenly waxed poetic in her 8-year-old way:    “One of my favorite things about Christmas is listening to the oven beeping, because I know that something yummy is baking and it’s almost ready to eat. And I like the way the trees smell. And I like to decorate and use all the sparkly glitter and pretty ribbons.” (She frequently asks the dreaded question: “Hey Mom, where do we keep all the glitter and the glue?") “And I like the sound of bells and the smell of snow outside. And I like the way Christmastime looks – the dim lights and the lights outside and the way the snow …

Like every other parent in the country -- or maybe even the world -- I've spent the last week reevaluating. Crying. Praying. Holding my children close. Breathing them in. Thanking God that they are still here with me. In moments when I am alone, I find myself with unbidden tears streaming down my face. I don't even realize they are there until they start dripping onto my shirt and then I remember. I can't stop thinking about it. Even when I don't think that I'm thinking about it, it's still there, niggling away at my subconscious. Those names. Those faces. Those ages. The same age as my sweet…

Before last weekend, I’d never been to a real ballet. And to be honest, I’ve never been that much of a fan. Too long, too boring, too many people, too much traffic… you know what I mean. I couldn’t understand why people would actually go to see The Nutcracker every single year and make it a holiday tradition. My two oldest daughters, though – Sadie, age 8 and Josie, age 7 – are big fans. So to kick off the holiday season, my mother-in-law took the three of us to see The Joffrey Ballet’s version at Playhouse Square. None of us (besides Grandma) had seen The Nutcracker before. The girls donned …

At our house, we are suffering through what will henceforth be (un)affectionately known as The Plague of 2012. And when I say “we,” mostly I mean the two adults in the family.   Chills. Shakes. High fevers. Aches. Pains. Nausea. Swimmy head. Coughs. Misery. I can't unwrap a cough drop without my knees knocking, teeth chattering and hands shaking. My 7-year-old even looked at me in dismay and said, “I’ve never seen you like this before, Mom.” My husband -- conked out on the bed thanks to some Nyquil -- snored in agreement. The only thing worse than having the flu is the flu coupled with Mommy …

There’s a Garth Brooks song that says “some of God’s greatest gifts are unanswered prayers.” It took a lot of growing up for me to really understand these words of wisdom, but now I think I finally get it. I’m thankful that I’m an only child. If I had siblings, I probably wouldn’t be nearly as close to my cousins. I’m thankful for all the times that my daddy said no when I asked permission to do something – he saved me from a lot of danger, heartache and tears. All of those no’s meant that he loved me – that he cared.   I’m thankful that my parents divorced. If they hadn’t, I never would have…

I’m an only child. So when I had my second child, I naturally assumed that she would be just like my first. Little did I know that they would be complete opposites. It turns out that all four of them are as different from each other as morning, noon, night and naptime. It’s humbling to think that out of all of the other moms in the world, God chose me – me – to be their mother. Me, with the not-so-idyllic past. Me, with the back problems and the weird propensity for popping my bones out of joint. Me, with the strange fears and the ridiculous built-in klutziness factor. Me. Shouldn’t they have…

I am completely Halloweened out. With the storm, losing electricity and all of the rescheduling due to bad weather, it seemed like “Halloween season” was interminable this year. My girls even got tired of wearing their costumes, if that tells you anything. We went to a local church’s festival one week and to the mall trick-or-treat event the next. We went to Halloween Story Time at the Library. We watched “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown” and “FrankenPooh.” Then I decided that I hadn’t suffered enough so I threw a big Harvest Party on the last day of October. Our power had JUST come …

I’ve always thought of myself as a fairly smart person. I made straight A's in school (well, except for Algebra). I graduated early from college. I like to learn. I like to read. I like useless information. I like watching biographies. I like taking IQ tests (or any test, really). But lately I feel like I have nothing to contribute. As far as having a grown up conversation, that is. I mean, what do I have say? Jed’s poop was kind of green today. Adelaide used the self-checkout at the grocery store today. Sadie learned the word “collinear” today. Josie figured out how to make paper airplanes …