Abby's Alley

I survived. The house didn’t burn down. My two-and-a-half-year-old didn’t eat my ten-month-old. I got out of the house for a walk. I had three meals and four visitors, and I discovered how little my words are actually needed in parenting. This past week I went one day without speaking. I allowed myself to say, “Thank you,” “Okay,” and “Please,” to use sounds as signals, to read books and sing songs. And no, I didn’t sing my way through the day, making up songs about going potty or getting your shoes on for a walk. If a neighbor greeted me, I could return the greeting, although I found a wave worked just as fine. If someone called, I answered. And if people came over I would speak but with simplicity, not worrying about filling the silence or complaining about the day’s trials or qualifying my statements to manage what others might think of me. Monday was my test day. I tried speaking as little as possible. And when hand motions or sounds wouldn’t work for Lee, I created lists

I'm starting to think Halloween was invented for parents rather than children. Can anyone get enough of their cute kids in costumes? I can't stand it! He's a construction worker in case you couldn't tell.  Rose blended in with an old onsie that used to be Phil's when he was a baby. Highlights of the evening were: building the bonfire with the Daddy man.  Eating candy for perhaps not the first time, but definitely a rare occasion in this household.  And welcoming Lois Thorpe's troupe of Korean foreign exchange students who enjoyed trick or treating, smores, and hot apple cider for the first time. They were dressed in the most interesting attire (a nurse, cop, maid, Santa, and bunny), all of which looked like they'd come from A Touch of Romance. Best costumes of the night were a pyramid, a cook, and three confident teen boys dressed up like bananas. Phil did the old toss-a-stick-into-the-fire-in-order-to-get-candy-routine, which was a bit hi

Motherhood has acted like a meat tenderizer to my heart. I'm not talking about that white powder that you sprinkle onto beef. I'm talking about that mallet with the spikes. I'm in shock. Everything is so sore and sensitive. I suppose Lee would say the same about being two and a half. It's hard learning how to close your eyes so shampoo doesn't get in them and learning how to pull off your socks starting from the heel. It's frightening passing big dogs on the sidewalk and standing in a room of loud talking strangers who speak to you in high pitched voices and want to poke your cheeks. Rose would agree, although she wouldn't mind the strangers so much as long as Mommy is holding her. She's more uncomfortable with having shirts put on and off her head every morning and night and sometimes in the middle of the day. And that whole bit about being left alone in a crib three times a day, no fun at all. Who made up this game anyway? Every decision I make