Ages & Stages

“Mama? What’s college?” she asked a few months ago as we passed LSU on the interstate after I pointed out where I went to college. I explained in seven-year-old terms that college is where people go to learn how to do their jobs. I went to learn to be a teacher, and her daddy learned to be a nurse. That satisfied her, and I quickly forgot the exchange. Simple things haven’t always come easy to my girl. She hit most major milestones on the late end of the normal range. Her speech wasn’t clear to most people until well into her third year of life. When we expressed concern, it was dismissed time and again, because she sat on the...

He swivels around on his stool, finds my eyes, smiles, and gives me a thumbs up. This is becoming our ritual when my son is a little detached from me and experiencing something on his own. This particular night that new experience was a cooking class for kids.  He was busy sitting at a stainless steel table with three adorable little girls.  They corroborated together to stir chocolate chip cookie dough, roll up chicken crescent rolls, and make bananas blue.  Very cute.  I sat in the lobby at a safe distance but with an excellent view.   My seat prevented me from doing anything for him or from even giving him instructions.  I watched with glee as he answered questions and interacted...

Right after my daughter was born, I remember staring into her face, and feeling so mortal. Prior to becoming a mom, I was the most carefree person. I was the person that loaded her car down at 19 years old, and drove half way across the country to California to live there for a few months. I never knew fear. I never once worried about things like terrorism (even though it was a reality in our generation), natural disasters, car safety regulations, GMOs, or fever over 101. If you're not naturally disposed to anxiety, the shock of motherhood hits you like a 15-ton truck. The enormity of the task we've been given can seem overwhelming. I'm not just speaking of the...

My oldest starts kindergarten in just a few weeks. I’ve started thinking things like, “But the time goes so fast!”, “I can’t believe she’s so big!” and “But she was JUST a baby!” It’s a predictable refrain with each milestone we encounter. I think I’m having typical and appropriate feelings about my child starting school. Mostly. You know, except for the palpable sense of dread I have about it all. My husband and I were married for a while (7 years) before we had our first child. We weren’t completely naïve, in that we knew our lives would change (in part, for the better) and that we’d be giving up the freedom to do just about anything on a moment’s...

It started with a crash and a shrill cry early Sunday morning. My husband flew out of our room and into my son’s nursery and confirmed what he suspected: 18-month-old William had climbed out of the crib and crash-landed. I rushed in after him and scooped up my sweet boy who was crying hard and looking totally shell-shocked. I could already see a big bump forming on his forehead. He soon calmed down, but after some hemming and hawing, we decided to take him to Urgent Care that day to make sure he didn’t have a concussion and because one of his arms seemed to be bothering him. The doctor on duty saw no signs of concussion and thought his...