Can we talk about playrooms? Taber’s birthday is looming, and Christmas comes a short month later. All the kid wants is Legos, and honestly I have no idea how to fit any more in our current set-up. So I started brainstorming some ideas for evolving the room—creating a long, wall-mounted work station to do homework or build creations and shelves for display. When I talked to my husband about it, he said something that stopped me short. “I like the idea, but...how many more years do you think we’ll need a playroom?”. Now I’ve certainly thought about this. My father is a professional project planner and has already mapped out the potential of turning this space into a huge mudroom/epic pantry. But in my mind, that’s waaaay in the future. Like 10 years from now. So give it to me straight, parents who have been there. When does a playroom become obsolete? How does it happen? A gradual sense of unloved emptiness for a space that was once the center of all play and childlike wonder? Or is it more a sudden sea change? What happens to all the toys? Does a magical fairy come quietly in the night to spare you the agony of dismantling the detritus of your own babies’ childhoods and your subsequent relative youth?! Why is this thought so utterly heartbreaking to me? I’m going to miss the Legos, aren’t I? Those infinite miserable plastic bricks, the enemy of all tidiness and organization. I’m going to miss them?! ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ #motherhoodthroughinstagram#designmom#howyouhome#theeverygirlathome#playroom#playroomorganization#legos#upstateny#existentialcrisis#livingwithkids#parenthood
I’ve heard tell that it’s the 25th anniversary of everyone’s favorite cult Halloween classic “Hocus Pocus”. I thought I’d share some shots of the places used in the film that were part of our daily life. Everyone recognizes Max’s house (photo 1). That house was about a block away from ours, on the harbor. A nice older couple lived there and we’d chat whenever I’d walk Taber (and later carry Mac in my ergo) down to the water to collect sea glass. It was a great spot for it. That’s Taber trick or treating there a few years ago. The next three photos are of the Ropes Mansion, aka Alison’s house. It’s actually a beautiful museum owned by the @peabodyessex and the attached gardens are public and one of our favorite little hidden gems of Salem. It didn’t hurt that it was also directly next door to Taber’s preschool. Many a picnic and play date and school parade was held there. And that last photo is the Salem Common playground, just about where Max and Alison exchange phone numbers after school. I love Salem so much, and always miss it acutely this time of year. I’m so grateful for our decade spent in the Witch City, and thrilled every time “Hocus Pocus” pops up on my TV. It’s like a little teleportation back to a place that will always feel like home. ❤️🧙🏻♀️🦇 #hocuspocus#hocuspocus25thanniversary#salem#salemma#salemmassachusetts#witchcity#sandersonsisters#halloween#amuckamuckamuck#latergram
I was in my last semester of college when you dragged me to a beach in the rain and put a ring on my shaking hand and asked me for the rest of my life.
Twelve years ago today, I gave it to you. We were kids. KIDS. I'm sure some of our friends and family thought we were crazy, though they had the tact enough to hide it. What was the rush? The simple truth was that there wasn't one; no pressure, no ticking biological clocks, no deployments, no green cards. It was just you and me and our certainty. You were for me. I was for you. Let's do this.
Twelve years have made their marks on us. We have lost people. We have made people. You held my hand at Rush Rhees Library, and then on East 85th Street, caught me at the end of an aisle, and helped lift me out of two childbirth beds. We have laughed and warred. We have made compromises and concessions and mistakes and triumphs that those two kids could not have imagined... And that's the whole point, right? Marriage is a great gamble. It's a huge leap of faith, to believe that what you feel for another human being will sustain through your lifetime. That you can change, become different, unknowable versions of yourself alongside another person, who will also always be changing--in ways you can't predict. And you know me better than anyone. I am risk-averse. I'm a Type A planner. I'm a shitty gambler. I like to take the money and run straight back to the bank.
But I'm keeping all my cards on the table. I will play this hand and bet on you and me every day.
This life we've built, those beautiful boys sleeping down the hall, your head next to mine each night... Such riches, I could not have fathomed. Thank you for twelve years, Nick. I love you.
Today is way too warm and also rainy and also we are besieged by stink bugs which means keeping all our windows closed. This makes me extra cranky. So I’m going to #tbt to my little Mac apple three years ago today. It was crisp and sunny and perfect weather for apple picking. I’m crossing my fingers that there’s more of that kind of weather to come this season. And less stink bugs.
Last night I asked my husband if he had $5 in cash on him. He said, “Sure, why?”. I hesitated. “I don’t want to tell you because I know you’ll roll your eyes at me.” He said he wouldn’t. So I explained that in what can only be considered a truly pre-destined alignment of fate, our local library was having the first day of their book sale right after Mac’s weekly storytime. $5 a bag! We’d be the first customers! He forked it over but I’m afraid to say the eyes did roll. Books are the total exception to the rule of our marriage, in which I am the careful editor and ruthless purger of extraneous possessions and he an unrepentant pack rat. But when it comes to books? More is more. Obviously I showed incredible restraint today. These ones just needed me. They whisper to me from their cracked spines and yellowed pages, “Take me home. Take me home.” #bookstagram#bibliophile#booksale#supportyourlocallibrary#usedbooks#vintagebooks#upstateny#bookhoarder#igbooks
No, that’s not a scene from a horror movie. That’s a Saratoga Springs mineral bath in a cast iron tub big and deep enough to get lost in. Today the weather was just chilly enough for me to finally redeem my Mother’s Day present and take a 40 minute soak in these healing waters. It was heavenly. It was also hard. I admit that I find it challenging to empty my head and sit with nothing but my own thoughts for long stretches of time. I used to joke in my yoga class that I had shitty savasana. Soaking in the dark today I realized how little I allow my mind to just...wander. I do everything—clean, cook, yard work, even shower—with either the chatter of a three year-old constant companion, or a podcast to keep me company. I get lonely. I like voices. And I contemplated listening to a podcast or audio book today for my bath. And then a funny, wonderful thing happened. On my way into the spa I bumped into an acquaintance. And he wanted to tell me how he found his wife sobbing in their living room last week, and he thought something bad had happened. But she was crying because she was reading a piece that I wrote, and it touched her. I was totally taken aback. And as I blushed and stammered my thank yous, a new plan formed. So while I laid in the dark and let the water wash over me, I thought about words. The ones I’ve used and those left to write. And the quiet I need to embrace so I can hear myself a little more clearly.