I thought I could muster up a column of sorts for today, but a day spent happily cooking, then eating, then mediating hyped-up arguments between the kids, then more eating, left me feeling both content and depleted of brain cells. Thanksgiving lunch turned out perfectly--the Tofurky Roll was just as good as I remember it from last year, even if the whole meal was delayed because I forgot to make the gravy. [more]

I haven't written anything about this, for fear of jinxing things, but for weeks now T. has been going to sleep by herself in her bed! She is still waking up every few nights to come running into bed with us, but I am no longer lying down with her until she sleeps, disengaging myself from the choke hold she has on my neck--even in sleep--and tiptoeing out of her room. I have those mixed feelings about this, although I thought I would feel more teary and nostalgic about this new milestone. [more]

My day started yesterday with the alarm ringing loudly at 5:45. The day before I had the brilliant idea that I would get up 25 minutes earlier than I usually do so I could...chop up vegetables. I've been trying to get back on that meal-planning wagon, and lamenting recently that I haven't used my crock pot much. One fatal flaw with the crock pot is that in order to have a nice, steaming vegetarian stew ready for you by 6:00 p.m., you have to actually start the thing in the morning before you leave the house. [more]

The other day I was in the waiting room at T.'s speech therapy place, grading papers and waiting for T.'s 45-minute session to end. T. was in the back with her speech therapist, and I was trying to make the most of the precious 45 minutes of child-free time I had. There were a few other parents there, in a waiting room littered with toys and books and puzzles. One mom, whom I had never seen before, was also waiting there with her young daughter, while her older child finished his therapy session. The little girl was about T.'s age. [more]

This past weekend my parents and sister visited, and on Saturday, after a visit to the local art museum, we came home and ordered Chinese take-out. T. finished hers in record time and disappeared from the table. About five minutes later there was a crashing sound, a dreaded splashing sound, and then silence. Thirty seconds later we heard T. crying--not in the I've been hurt way, but in the oh my god, look what I did way. [more]