A few evenings ago we were getting ready for bed when, out of the blue, Anthony announced, “I don’t want to get married when I grow up.” “You don’t have to,” I told him. “But I thought you wanted to be a daddy. You need to be married to be a daddy.” He shook his … Continue reading
Tony’s attending a professional conference at a swanky local hotel today, and he came home yesterday informing me that he’d have to dress for the occasion. This meant putting on his dress blues, or as I suppose it’s called now, the Army Service Uniform. That he has to buy updated uniform components and accessories so … Continue reading
From a Facebook post on March 8: Anthony and I were having a conversation about college. He said he wants to go to {an ROTC military college} like his daddy, and then I asked if he was going to join the military after, too. He said yes, and then I asked what branch. “The Navy,” … Continue reading
From a Facebook post on February 15: Anthony: “When I grow up I want to be a builder, a Soldier, a paleontologist, a doctor, or a contestant on Wipeout.”
From a Facebook Post on March 3: Tony: I just put a load of laundry in and now I’m gonna go get those parts to fix the car. But… wait, I was gonna vacuum first. There’s just not enough time to do it all! Me: See? This is why I generally just throw my hands … Continue reading
From a Facebook post on February 12: Brenna was telling us about a dream she had with Zurg from ‘Toy Story’. Ant asked who Zurg was. Tony: “You know – he’s the evil emperor and sworn enemy of the Galactic Alliance.” Anthony: “Oh! THAT Zurg!”
From a Facebook post on February 5th (Superbowl Sunday): Brenna just asked what “The Pastries’” mascot is. Me: “Doughnuts? Danish?” Tony: “That would really change the ratio of male:female fans.”
I am a hardass when it comes to dinnertime at my house. From the earliest days when Brenna began eating table food with us – around ten months old – I made a commitment to myself that if meals were to be a family affair, like I wanted, then we’d eat together as a family … Continue reading
I know I’m a mom when… – I bang my hand against a cabinet, say “Ouch!” and then kiss it. – I give my dog a treat and have to stop myself from asking him, “What do you say…?” – I’m driving and the car across from me doesn’t wait his turn at a four-way … Continue reading
He calls me Mama now, instead of Mommy. I don’t know when he decided to make this switch, but I simultaneously love/hate it, because I’ve been Mommy for the past eight years and fully intend to never allow my children to call me Mom. It’s just not who I am, mostly because at thirty-one-and-a-half I … Continue reading