SuperMom, I am not

Feb 01

SuperMom, I am not

When Maren was just shy of two, I found her like this: I still remember her deer-in-headlights look as I busted her.  She knew she was being naughty, but couldn’t help herself.  The offending instrument in this case was not a marker, or Sharpie, or paint.  My Maren got into my mascara, and, as an observant little booger, tried to put it on in the eye region,...

Read More

Her “work”

Jan 16

Last week I found myself sitting across from my favorite five-year-old at Starbucks. I had some computering I needed to do, and Brad was home while Greta napped.  When Brad is not home, I would normally set Maren up with an activity or a movie while I did my “work,” but on this day I suggested that we leave the house and go to Starbucks together and...

Read More

She gets it

Jan 03

“Muffle, muffle, I don’t care,” “I’ll pull down your underwear.” My jaw dropped open as I heard these words being hollered by a lot of kids on the bus as Maren got off her school bus this afternoon.  I was shocked.  This bus carries only kindergartners.  Really?  Bus drama.  Oy. As we walked the short walk home hand in hand, she...

Read More

I carry her in my heart

Jan 02

Tonight I watched as Maren sat on the kitchen island counter.  She swung her legs a little, and she chatted with Brad while he chopped and prepped veggies for dinner.  I noticed that her size six pajamas are creeping up her ankles and wrists.  Eventually she pulled out her read-at-home school books and read to him as he worked.  She asked him for help when she...

Read More

Though they be but little

Dec 19

‘Twas a great ending to my day.  I had one girl on each knee, we rocked in my favorite chair, I read to them.  We read more than the standard two stories because we were happy.  They were clean and I inhaled their sweet smells.  Maren exclaimed, “I remember this book from when I was a little girl.”  I smiled with the knowledge that she is still a...

Read More

Maren: fivinuhhaf

Nov 21

Maren’s kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Heart, began calling the children (the five-year-olds) writers the very first week of school.  Some, like Maren, could write their own name, but others were still practicing.  Yet, Mrs. Heart called them writers: she called out their identity, and the twenty-four little people in the class are rising to the challenge and...

Read More