Forgive me. I try not to be your typical mommy blogger, going on and on about the adorableness of her child. But, tonight, after a lovely weekend away with my two guys, I can’t help but tell you that I think my little boy is about as sweet as the cupcakes with sprinkles he and I made for my birthday. (He can’t stop talking about those cupcakes.) So, I’ll make it sweetly short. Saturday night, I lay next to August... Read more
Oh yes, I travel with my son. In fact, with all four of his grandparents living from 2,000 to 3,000 miles away from us, my two-year old has been on at least 15 flights (and I’m not counting return flights). Sometimes, when I consider such a number, I’m dumbfounded. I think I took my first flight at around 10 years old and that was a 45 minute long one from Amarillo to Dallas. My son’s first flight took place when... Read more
Yesterday I looked at an apartment I adored in Sausalito, a beautiful, quaint little fishing town across the Bay from San Francisco. It’s a drive across Golden Gate bridge. It’s a ferry ride. I’ve mentioned a few times here that we’ve been in a bit of battle to stay in our apartment in San Francisco. The battle has come to an end and we are officially moving out this October. So, now I’m in full apartment search mode, looking for... Read more
On Sunday, I turned into a 31 year old. And just as if the Lord had been waiting all summer to open up the clouds for the sake of my official entry into the rest of the 30s, it suddenly became summer in San Francisco. Just like that, while the rest of you were buying fall clothes for your offspring’s off-to-school shopping, I put on my shorts and forgot (whoops!) to wear sunscreen. Ahhh. Here’s what I’m thankful for: Facebook... Read more
So the book on my bedside table (if I had one…I should actually say: the book on the floor) is The Celtic Way of Prayer by Esther de Waal. (This is where I give a shout out to my friend Kristen for the recommendation.) I’m four chapters in and in love with this book. Esther de Waal is a laywoman and mother of four who writes and lectures on Benedictine and Celtic Christian spirituality. In short, she’s my new favorite.... Read more
Yesterday I received my new copy of Real Simple in the mail. The first night with a new Real Simple is a kind of ritual for me. I start at the front with the “New Uses For Old Things” section (Which always drive me crazy. I mean, come on, do I really need to use an old sock to wrap a wine bottle? That said, I can’t stop reading it.) and then I usually skip to the recipes at the... Read more
I am Thankful: 1. August’s room is apartment-size small. (It should not count as a second bedroom because it’s really more of a walk-in closet.) Therefore, there is only one place where his crib can fit. It just so happens that his crib is within reaching distance of the light switch. Lately, he really likes to turn on his light. This has been okay first thing in the morning when he wakes up. But for the past week he’s had... Read more
This morning at 10:30, I began one of those mundane conversations with my two year old that ends up fascinating me with its significance. I was still in my pajama pants, staying home from church because of the toddler’s T-Rex cough and exploding nose. Despite his voice being both raspy and nasally, August had plenty of questions to ask about the bright colored deer on my Old Navy flannels. We went through every color on each deer’s cozy scarf. Then... Read more
So, it’s 10 at night and my son didn’t get in bed till 8:40 ish (more than an hour late) due to my poor choice of driving home from a friend’s house at 5:20: Downtown at rush hour with a necessary stop at Whole Foods? Bad choice. 1 hour and 40 minutes later, I started dinner. Which we ate at 7:45. I will also add that I’m tired and my brain is failing you tonight. You deserve more than I... Read more
This afternoon during August’s nap time I read Psalm 10 while I curled up under a sweatshirt blanket feeling sorry for myself. I haven’t been feeling great lately. Today I was sick to my stomach and whiney, at least to myself. (August doesn’t really care if I’m whining, so I’ve given up on trying to get compassion from him.) I don’t know what Psalms the Benedicts were reading this afternoon in their noontime prayers, but as I lay on the... Read more
Micha Boyett
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