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For the last five days, I have been thinking quite a bit about stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. 

Perhaps not surprisingly, denial was my initial reaction - but it was brief.

Anger quickly followed. 


fierce and boundless love

"There is only one thing we can be sure of, and that is the love we have. For our children, for our families, for each other. The warmth of a child's embrace - that is true. … That fierce and boundless love that we feel for them … we know that's what matters. We know we are always doing right when we are taking care of them. When we are teaching them well. When we are showing acts of kindness. We don't go wrong when we do that. That's what we can be sure of. That's what you, the people have Newtown, have reminded us."
- President Obama


Why We Crown Our Tree with a Taxi (originally posted at Circle of Moms)

We put up our tree this past Sunday during that delightful window between the afternoon naps and dinner. The tree is named Herbie the Fourth. We found him this morning at our local Boys and Girls Club. He is a perfect height for our apartment, and he has a nice, full shape. He is also perfectly scrappy - with more than a few dry needles.

In 2008, we found Herbie the Original on Myrtle Avenue in Brooklyn.



Tonight, I am watching the American Country Awards and eating a dinner of leftover vegetable tempura (take-out) and crispy orange beef (homemade) with a beer.

My husband is out with one of his brothers watching football tonight.

So, I am engaging in what one iconic television show dubbed secret single behavior (ssb).  It's not just the fried foods, it's the "awards" show, and it's country music. 

It's completely luxurious. 

Sure, my evening has been interrupted about three times by my favorite Bug.  So far, he has moved from my bed to his bed to my bed and back to his bed again.  I imagine he will move one more time within the next three to four hours.  

So it goes.

Next up in my night of ssb, I might fold laundry while I watch a certain soapy show about a certain doctor and her various dramatic friends in Seattle.

Look out - things are getting crazy here in Arlington.


A funny thing happened . . .

"A funny thing happened . . ."  Isn't that how all of these parenting stories could start?

Nevertheless, two nights ago, a funny thing did happen.



This week I traveled for work - left on Tuesday afternoon and came home on Thursday mid-day.

So, on Tuesday morning, when I left each of my boys, I said, "I love you, and I cannot wait to see you again on Thursday [two days from now - I hope the teachers who hear me aren't judging me - I hope you, Squish especially, don't think I am abandoning you because your understanding of days, let alone their names, is so limited]."

Nothing about saying that feels good.  In fact, it feels lousy.

The next forty-eight hours were jam packed.  I checked in to my hotel and debated next steps before meeting an old friend for drinks.  Go to the fitness room and get a run in before dinner and drinks?  Do yoga in the room?  Order dinner to my room?  Go across the street to the chain restaurant I can see from my room window?  Eat downstairs in the hotel lobby/bar?