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I just want to tell you that Bumbo and Dando were at the Vivarium with us today. And they were wearing hats. Jonah was talking about them while one of the employees (the place seems to have almost as many employees as reptiles) was cleaning out a cage/lair/glasscontainerthingy. Somehow, said employee/tattooedguy/interestingperson joined our conversation. Maybe . . . → Read More: the other stuff i would say if it wasn’t gauche to post twice in one day There are so very many good (and bad) children’s books. And then there are a few that so tip the scales on hipster street cred, for various reasons (beat poetry text, ironic plot twists) that they deserve their own special round up. Here are my nominees for the category. If you have more to add, . . . → Read More: the hipster parents’ guide to children’s books Jonah has a lot of words. He knows them, says them with startlingly crisp articulation at times. He sings songs. He recites books verbatim. And he babbles. A favorite game is to run in circles chanting: Bumbo bumbo bumbo — or — Dando dando dando. Tonight, I decided to try to get to the bottom . . . → Read More: bumbo and dando This is several blog posts, and none. A summary. A smorgasbord. I love Magritte. So I reference him. C’est tout. Where have I been? Why the blog silence? Even I don’t have a coherent answer and I’m the only one who should know. There’s some perfectionism involved. First thing that happened, I was having blog . . . → Read More: ceci n’est pas un blog post We’re in L.A., visiting Nana and PopPop, a.k.a. my mom and dad. Mom has just finished her rigorous morning workout and is getting dressed so we can take Jonah to the park. The boy and I are ready to go. We’re hanging out with her in her room while she is putting on her shoes. . . . → Read More: thanks, mom Last night, sleep was a bit of a struggle. Because he seemed tired at 6 but by the end of bedtime routine he clearly wasn’t tired. At all. We need a plan, I said to Scott. To Jonah, I said, Mommy and Daddy will be right back. We retired to the bedroom to regroup, and . . . → Read More: we should… He was out by 7:06pm, people. 7:06. For the record, tonight he was suuuper cranky at 6:30pm, we skipped the bath, went straight to potty, toothbrushing and pajamas, only read three books, one more potty trip, and then Scott sang him to sleep in minutes (the last few of which included HAND). The only thing . . . → Read More: sleep? check. self? checked. I can’t believe it’s been over 18 months since that night. It seems like yesterday, and a million years ago, and like it never really happened, and like it’s burned into my brain — especially that photo of me in labor, smiling, naked in the hospital room shower with a strawberry popsicle in my hand . . . → Read More: revisiting our birth story: football, popsicle, and baby |
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