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Sitting on the old leather couch or rocking slowly in a rickety glider, I’m surrounded by my children as we read together. I feed my little ones on stories morning, noon and night. Serving up Harry the Dirty Dog for breakfast, The Magic Tree House becomes...
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I taught the twins to give “Eskimo kisses.” Levi leans in, all serious, and clasps my head in his hands, one on either side. Then he swipes his tiny nose side to side against my own. It is unbearably cute. Isaiah has become a prolific kisser,...
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(one of the reading rooms at Dickinson College Library) Today I’m re-posting this piece from the “archives” which was written back in 2012, right when I first began blogging. The twins were not quite one then and my older two were four...
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(Photo Source here, CC License.) Let’s just say it’s, oh, I don’t know . . . 90 degrees in the building that houses the high school’s swimming pool. And humid. Yes, very humid, like a sauna or a spa, although you’ll want to get the very idea of any...
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She stands, arms outstretched under fluorescent lights, holding up the empty shorts, the t-shirts and tanks. Her mother-eyes focus on what is not there, gauging the cloth’s ability to hold, to hug, the ones she loves. Her gaze is fixed just past the things she...
