There are some things people do not tell you about being a mother. And then there are the things they tell you over and over again . . . I lost track […]

Here we are at fourteen, my not so little La La. I never believed them when they said, “the days are long, but the years are short.” I’m believing now. […]

You and me. This past year when I’ve looked at your face I’ve seen mine. Not mine now, but mine then. Chipmunk cheeks, a gap-toothed grin, freckles sprinkled across a […]

Five. Five always feels official. Four felt like I could cheat and call you a toddler still. But five doesn’t work that way. Five means Kindergarten and all kinds of […]

You are four.  I don’t have any pretty words or ways to say this except that I’m not OK with this.  I like that you can use the potty and […]

little la la, yesterday, in chicago, you told me your name isn’t la la.  i’m not sure if you rolled your eyes, but i rolled mine.  my jr. high self […]

Nine is just fine, Lukie (as long as i try not to think about ten).  it’s that year where you can be a kid in all kid glory.  you’re big […]

one.  two.  three.  to me, three is that last year before you turn boy.  and while, i love boy, i’m clinging to baby.  it’s not that i don’t want you […]

little big girl – –  that is who you are at this very moment.  caught between the two different worlds that are seemingly connected.  like the north pole grabbing hands […]

  four.  i’m not sure about four.  four is that year where munchkins turn to (little) men.  somewhere in the year of four, you go to bed one night a […]