Little Wallybug

When I was little my mom called me and my siblings “wallerbugs” when we couldn’t sit still and would move all over the place on her lap. These days, I’m starting to think that’s a great little name for one of my favorite nephews, since every time he sees Wesley, he wallers all over him with affection and cuddles.

Boston from my camera :)

So grateful for boys <3

Boston (from my phone)

We recently got to go visit friends and family in Boston. One group is technically family and one group is technically friends, but thankfully we can’t tell the difference. 

Part 1:

Part 2:

The Penguin & the Gingerbread Man

These outfits are 30 years old that my mom saved. I just love you two together, even though you won’t sit still or look at the camera at the same time. Alfalfa & Spanky Forever


a letter


I’ve thought about what you said almost every day since you wrote it: “Let your love for him convict you of how much you don’t love other people.”

When I first read that, I wasn’t all that convicted. While I was DOING a lot of loving things for Wesley, I wasn’t feeling that much love for him all that often. But I’m the sort that has to earn a feeling. And these days, when I cup that little face, stroke those little cheeks, watch those little eyes look out a window, hear that little giggle, press into that warm little embrace… these days my emotions are swept up like a tiny speck of dust caught in a hurricane.

In this case, six months is a nonsense measurement. It measures something mathematical that is entirely mystical. And I’m no mystic, as you know.


One thing I love about your friendship, is that while I’m tempted to write you some simple factual updates about my circumstances and histories, I’m much more drawn to write you some simple factual updates about my soul. If only these were the kinds of annual letters sent out this time of year. I’d read those.

So now that I’ve touched on that whirlwind romance that is motherhood, I’ll share about the other piece. The ugly not loving other people thing.

I’ve been reading about how I need to be less cynical in conflict. I was considering writing “with people” after “conflict” but I’m not sure it’s necessary. So I guess I’m saying I just need to be less cynical, since every day I’m in conflict. I wish had some way to tie that thought to a pithy advent quote but it’s just a plain thought unfortunately. I’m waiting to be made less cynical. I’d like to love people better by storing up hope for them. I have more hope stored for Wesley than I could fit into all the pockets of all the coats I’ve ever seen.


(From Black Rook in Rainy Weather by Sylvia Plath)

Of whatever angel may choose to flare

Suddenly at my elbow. I only know that a rook

Ordering its black feathers can so shine

As to seize my senses, haul

My eyelids up, and grant

A brief respite from fear

Of total neutrality. With luck,

Trekking stubborn through this season

Of fatigue, I shall

Patch together a content

Of sorts. Miracles occur,

If you care to call those spasmodic

Tricks of radiance miracles.

The wait's begun again, The long wait for the angel.

For that rare, random descent.

Palm Springs From My Phone

What a life.

Sick and tired

This is you, being sick and tired and perfectly wonderful still. This is also us, being sick and tired and grateful you’re around to cheer us up. This was also your first trip to urgent care because we don’t know what we’re doing.

Sister Magic

Logan sent me this from across the state because I was having a hard day. I just want to remember how it made me feel — loved. She’s great at the loving thing.


Toys vs. Tools

You sit in front of your toybasket.

I plop in front of my toolbox.

The two are not so different.

Toys are tools by which we enjoy

the world;

tools are toys which we employ

to build the world.

Both should be satisfying.

But when you get older 

you will find few people feel this way.

Toys are freedom

they say,

and tools are chains.

Toys are happy

they say

and tools are sad.

Find the similarity in them:

tools can be happy,

toys can be sad.

Consider your tools toys,

and your toys tools.

Show all the world its secret joys,

and call out its hidden fools.

Nov. 4th

I honestly didn’t know I could love somebody’s cheeks so dang much. I miss them already because I know you’re going to grow up and have grown up cheeks.


Practicing your sitting while the daylight slips away.  

All fall down and kisses after