The grandmother wars (going on nowhere but my own head).

We’re going to Houston again this year for Christmas, YAY! Even though we already went last year, the Husband graciously conceded to go again as otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to go till at least next October, what with the house reno, and the move, and honestly, who wants to be in Houston in August, plus I’d really like to have the kids experience at least one real, honest to goodness, Halloween in the US before they start big kid school in 2014, (and that’s all of next year summed up in a short paragraph), all to say that I get to go home for Christmas! (and did I mention, YAY!!).

Anyway, I’m having a bit of a mental quandary this week… Talking to my mom the other day, she mentioned that she’d like us to have some rules for our stay, that she’d like the kids to eat with the adults at lunch, but not at dinner because she wants to be able to spend some uninterrupted, quality, time with me and would like to be able to have adult conversation at dinner. And, of course, I said that was fine and we’d work it out since we’re her guests and all and it isn’t a completely unreasonable request. But I won’t deny that it got me thinking… Well, first of all, if last year was any indication the kids won’t be eating with her at lunch either since they have lunch at noon and that’s pretty much right after breakfast for her, and if their not eating dinner with her either then she won’t be seeing an awful lot of them during our stay.

But this is nothing new, I have no doubt in my mind whatsoever that my mother loved my brother and I a great deal, but I also am very clear on the fact that she was never particularly interested in us. She cared that we were healthy, and well fed, and doing well in school, and generally happy, but she was never one of those mothers who was really interested in what we were doing (unless it was something we weren’t supposed to be doing), she never asked what we were reading or thinking or doing if we weren’t in trouble and weren’t bothering her directly. She is pretty self-absorbed, she always has been and I don’t think we suffered particularly from it growing up.

But it bothers me a great deal in regards to my children. There are times that she will talk to me for half an hour about some completely mundane thing going on in her life before she finally asks about the kids, and it’s a completely perfunctory question, I could answer “fine” or go into minute detail about all the wonderful new things that they are doing and it is exactly the same to her. It doesn’t help that on the other side of the family they’ve got a fantastic grandmother. My mother in law, with whom I fight regularly because I don’t want her to give them candy, or some other completely ridiculous thing about which I need to assert my dominance, comes to see the kids once or twice a month and she plays with them. For hours. She came to stay at my house when I left for a weekend to be with my mother before her wedding, she came again for a week when I had to go to Brazil to see my grandma. She takes over responsibility, despite the fact that she knows I’m going to find something wrong with her actions, because I’m a gigantic pain in the ass sometimes, and also a control freak, and yet she watches my children, she entertains them, she scolds them, and cuddles them, and takes really great care of them so that I can go do my thing. She is genuinely interested in them. The first thing she asks whenever she calls me is how they are, and what they’re doing, and then she proceeds to the rest of the conversation. My mother and my mother in law are at exactly the opposite ends of the grandmother spectrum, and it kind of pisses me off, because I would like my mother to be the really great grandmother. Or better yet, I wish my kids had two really great grandmothers.

I’m constantly making excuses up for my mother, she lives far away and hasn’t seen them as much, she’s young to be a grandmother, she’s got a new husband and she’s just not that into kids. These are all valid points. But they’re not a good enough explanation. Not that I think there’s more to it than that, but in my mind it is simply not good enough. Because, frankly, my kids are freakin’ adorable. She should want to spend time with them, she should be interested in them, she shouldn’t care that they take over our meal times because she can spend quality time with me in other moments of the day, She should want to spend as much time as possible with them because she only sees them two or three times a year. But she doesn’t. She’s just not interested, and I simply don’t understand it. I accept it, I’m not angry, I know what she’s like, but I am disappointed. My mother talks about her cats the way she should talk about her grandkids.

I know she loves them, when we went for Christmas last year, she made the house perfect for them, she made us perfectly comfortable, she was welcoming, and she put up two Christmas trees, a beautiful magical one to look at, and a smaller one for the kids to play with, with ornaments they could touch and rearrange and eat… that was pretty nice, and thoughtful of her. She cooks for them, and she does really cool stuff like she got the Boy a gigantic Lightning McQueen bed and this year she’s looking for a cool bed for the girl, but she’s not all that interested in them. I realize I can’t expect her to be perfect, and I grew up with her so I know her attitude isn’t going to do any lasting damage, but I wish she was interested in them anyway, I wish she was a more involved grandmother.

My kids love her, and they’re happy to see her, but they also don’t mind too much if they don’t see her. But they get super excited when my mother in law comes over, they ask about her when she hasn’t been back for a while and they are genuinely upset when she leaves. I guess I’m a little jealous maybe, I know this isn’t a contest but we’re losing dammit!

Also, I’m nervous about our visit, which, thankfully, will be short compared to last year (two weeks rather than almost two months), but last year I had the nanny with me and despite that my mom felt like the kids were invasive, I cannot even begin to imagine what it’s going to be like with no help. I don’t know… I’m sure it’ll work out fine and we’ll figure it out, but I can’t shake this feeling that still, she should be more interested in them. I realize that it’s a bit arrogant of me, and presumptuous, and maybe also a little bit sad, because the truth probably is, that while I feel bad for my kids, I also feel bad for me because despite my age and the distance it still hurts a little bit that she’s still not all that interested in what amounts to really the coolest thing I’ve ever done.

The – a photo’s worth a thousand words – Monday Listicle

It’s list-making time, my friends, and this week Stasha made it real easy for us. As per Jessica’s suggestion we’re posting ten pictures from our cellphones. Of course, I couldn’t keep it at ten, evidently I’m in the rebellious stage of the Monday Listicle evolution and I can’t seem to just keep my lists at ten. I apologize for my disregard for directions and I’d like to assure Stasha that it is  just a phase, soon enough I’ll be able to follow the listicle rules once again! So, here we go:

Ten (or so) photos of this weekend from my cellphone, plus one from a few weeks back (guess which one!)


On friday I did this…


…to make this…


…and this…


…because of this…


On saturday we did this…


… and a little of this…


… then we went to the supermarket like this…


On sunday, we woke up to a lovely early morning serenade thanks to this super fun (and not at all annoying) present from my mother in law.


… and then we finally finished this…


… and then we went out and wanted to buy all of these…


…once home we felt the need for some of this…


… and at long last we did this.

Happy Monday everyone!!!

Happy Birthday Darling Girl

You turned three today, you’re such a big girl. Just this past month you went from your crib to a big girl bed, and then last week you decided you didn’t want the safety rail anymore, you dress yourself, you brush your teeth, you help wash the dishes… you’re so independent! Everything is “io faccio” or sometimes “I do it”. You get frustrated and pouty when you can’t get something done, but you keep at it until you do it. You’re so headstrong, and tenacious, which makes life exhausting for me, but will be so great for your future. You’ve finally, finally, started letting me put your hair up, though you yell at me when it pulls (every morning when I comb it) but it’s ok, because you look so cute in pigtails.

You’ve got more energy than your brother, father, and I combined, I don’t know where you get it.You ’re independent, but you’re so cuddly too. A study in contradictions, everything in excess. When I put your pjs on, you get on my lap on the glider chair and we just rock and rock quietly breathing. I try to hold on to these moments with both hands for when you’re splayed out on the floor, screaming, throwing a tantrum of epic proportions.

I love the mornings when you wake up early and come in my bed, you cuddle up against me until every nook and cranny of your little body is melded into mine and then you fall asleep. Heaven. Nights are for your brother, mornings are for you.

You’re three years old, today, I can barely believe it. I love each new step, each new conquest, I love all the things you can do, but time, it seems to be going so fast to someone like me, I almost want to keep you like this forever. I said almost. You’re so eager, eager to do things, eager to see things, and you get excited over the silliest things, and you make them seem wonderful to the rest of us. I pray you never lose your spirit, your joy, your love of life (which, I honestly believe you got from my dad, your Nonno Fabrizio).

Your emotions are so strong, when you love your brother, you love him so much, so much, when you’re angry at me, you’re so angry, so angry, when you’re having fun, you have such fun, such fun! You’re such a sweet girl, with just the right amount of sass to keep us on our toes. And the sweetest moments of my day are watching you and your brother playing together, because you play so well, I hope you never lose that, I hope you’re always friends.

You’re three years old today, it feels like a lot, but they’re not that many at all.

Happy Birthday, darling girl, I love you miles and miles, your smile lights up my life, you make my heart sing.

I’m a treasure, a treasure I tell you!

I’m starting to wonder whether I may have a mild case of OCD, because yesterday I reloaded the dishwasher. In this house, the dishwasher gets loaded by whoever seems to be in the kitchen when dirty plates materialize in the sink, sometimes it’s me, sometimes it’s the housekeeper, rarely it’s the husband, but that generally is an indication of a forthcoming snowstorm in July or some other completely unlikely and possibly catastrophic meteorological event.

Yesterday, the housekeeper loaded the dishwasher, and when I went to put in a few more of the stray dirty items that periodically appear all day long as if by magic, I rearranged all the glasses and bowls that were already in there. Because they were askew, whereas, clearly, dishes in the dishwasher need to form neat, color-coded, itemized rows. Clearly. Also, the glasses have to be alternated with the kids’ plastic cups and baby bottles so they don’t bang against each other, knives have to go in point down, and plates arranged in decreasing order of size. Apparently, it is vital to my mental well being that the dishes be arranged just so in the dishwasher. In fact, I may be averting all manner of cataclysmic events with my precise and orderly dishwashing habits. Some may hint that it’s annoying to live with someone like me, but frankly I know I’m a treasure rarely to be found. Or something along those lines.

By the way… I got sucked back into the black hole for bloggers that is twitter, so please be nice and follow me. If only for my self-esteem… and yes, I will soon (soonish) set up the easy and practical sidebar button for just this here purpose, for now click on the link or search for thebonnybard or follow the smoke signals… please and thank you.

The – the things I’ve learned – Monday Listicle

AH Monday, how I love thee so!

Ok, not really, but at least we have the Listicle to get the week started right! This week Stasha’s assignment is to list ten things we learned in 2012. If only my memory weren’t so shoddy… oh, wait… I have a blog! Every single thing of note (as well as the utterly mundane) has been recorded for posterity on the internet. Thank god! Otherwise I never would have realized that every month in the past year has brought some valuable (and, again, some not so valuable) lessons. Here they are, along with, if you’re interested and have an awful lot of free time on your hands today, links to the posts explaining them. (If you don’t have an awful lot of free time on your hands… (how shocking!) I totally understand.)

12 things I learned in 2012.

1. January – in January I learned that shooting guns is fun!

2. In February I learned that some people really do treat their pets as if they were kids and that disturbs me profoundly.

3. In March I learned that comments from readers are more valuable than I could ever have imagined.

4. In April I learned that men simply can’t pee within the confines of the toilet.

5. In May I learned that I don’t react well to the idea of anything permanent. Like buying a house. But then I got over it and now I have a house.

6. In June I learned that my kids can survive without me for a few days. I’m not sure whether this makes me happy or sad, but it certainly make me freer.

7. In July I learned that the very things I’d most like to change about myself are the things I can’t control.

8. In August I learned that people who work in Consulates are mean. And they hate me. Also, they’re mean.

9. In September I learned that everyone likes a good wedding picture (or even an entire series).

10. In October I learned that I absolutely, positively, don’t want to be pregnant (right now).

11. In November I learned that time doesn’t make loss any easier, it just makes it less painful.

12. And quite likely in December I will have yet again failed to learn that it’s not a good idea to go out on December 24th to get a few last minute gifts. But alas, we don’t always learn from past mistakes, do we?!

By the way… I got sucked back into the black hole for bloggers that is twitter, so please be nice and follow me. If only for my self-esteem… and yes, I will soon (soonish) set up the easy and practical sidebar button for just this here purpose, for now click on the link or search for thebonnybard or follow the smoke signals… please and thank you.


The Boy is a lazy bug. He is NOT a morning person. When he wakes up I give him juice in a sippy cup (so he can drink it lying down), he then moves to my bed, and then I give him warnings every ten minutes for the half an hour it takes me to dress myself and the Girl like a gigantic automated snooze button, and then, when he finally gets up I have to tread lightly, and calmly. Because if I don’t, if I don’t follow this complex and frankly often annoying morning dance, he wakes up in a foul mood and I have to deal with His Grumpiness all the liv long day. This morning we apparently turned the lights on too soon, he was already lying in my bed, so we were well into phase two of operations, so he protests and puts on my eye mask. He’s a practical kid.

Later, when he was finally up and washed and getting dressed, I had to take the eye mask off to put his shirt on, and he looks at it for a minute, hmmms, and then the light bulb went on over his head:

I just had the best idea!

Hmmmm…. What…  Wait, hey! BOOOOOOOBIES!!!!



By the way… I got sucked back into the black hole for bloggers that is twitter, so please be nice and follow me. If only for my self-esteem… and yes, I will soon (soonish) set up the easy and practical sidebar button for just this here purpose, for now click on the link or search for thebonnybard or follow the smoke signals… please and thank you.

Dear Dad

I’ve been writing these letters in my head for a long, long time now, and just decided to write them down here as part of the “creating memories and family identity for my kids” project, that’s wasn’t really a project per say until I realized that I didn’t want my life to mirror pinterest, a long list of good intentions that never get done.

Dear Dad,

you’ve been gone six years now and, despite what everyone says, I miss you more each day that passes, not less. It feels weird to be writing you in English, because if I were talking to you it would have been in Italian, but Italian just doesn’t come when I write and I imagine you’re getting my thoughts, wherever you are, and those transcend language. Today in the car the Boy asked if I could put on Nonno F’s song, he wanted to hear “Ma che bella giornata di sole” by Antonello Venditti, I must have told him at some point that was one of your favorite songs, I just don’t know how he remembers these things. They listened to it over and over and they sang along to some of the words. It made me miss you so much. I remembered all the car trips when I hated the classical music you made us listen to, but I also remembered all the Puccini from when I was little, about their age in fact, and I loved it because they were like long, elaborate stories with singing. I still can’t listen to La Turandot without getting melancholy, and I thought to myself, I have to play some opera in the car sometimes, maybe on long trips, because at this age they won’t hate it on principle because it’s old. I want my children to listen to Puccini and think of you.

I wish you were here to see your grandkids cause they’re pretty awesome.

I still love you lots,

Your daughter.

Nighttime conversations about love

I’m trying to get the Boy out of his nighttime diaper. I’m very relaxed about it, but I’ve started taking the first steps: cutting down his liquid intake before bed, getting him out of proper diapers and into training diapers so he can go to the bathroom by himself at night, and generally discussing how he’s a big boy now and is allowed to and should start thinking about getting up and peeing in the toilet now. Though I’m not in any big rush these first simple steps have already garnered some results… the Boy now has an excuse to get up and walk around at night. This basically means that after I’ve whispered the last “good night, I love you miles and miles”, indication that it is, in fact, bedtime, he manages to get up between five and ten more times every single night. Half the time I have to tuck him back in. It’s pretty annoying. Most of the time.

Today he’d been complaining that I hadn’t cuddled him enough. He’s probably right, his sister demands cuddles, if I’m sitting down she’ll just climb into my lap pushing out of her way anything that could impede her progress, he, on the other hand, tends to keep to his own space. He’ll take cuddles when offered, but he rarely comes asking. And tonight he complained of this evident inequality between them, though I constantly try to keep things even.

These two things are related of course, the peeing and the cuddles, because tonight on one of the thousand trips to the bathroom he came by my room and stupidly I didn’t ask him to come lie in my bed for a couple of minutes, as I usually do, I sent him packing straight away. And so I heard grumbling all the way back to bed and felt guilty. Luckily.

I went to lie with him in his bed a few minutes. And as we snuggled I said to him, you know baby, you’re so special to me because you were my first, you made me a mama. I wasn’t a mama until you came. And he said: you weren’t a mama? With surprised wonder in his voice, because, how can one conceive of such a thing. And I said: I wasn’t a mama until you came, I waited for you such a long time, I was afraid you weren’t going to come and then you did and I was so happy. And then I kissed him, and left. And he fell asleep.

Chit-Chat Tuesday on Friday (cause I can’t seem to get my shazit together)

Off and on I’ve tried to write chit-chat Tuesday posts, as a sort of spin-off of the virtual coffee posts I used to do (on Moomser), because I liked just writing to chat and catch people up on (and remind myself of) all the mundane stuff we’d been doing. I haven’t been all that consistent. But then I figured, considering the scarce posting I’ve got going on on this blog anyway, I can probably chit-chat with my one or two readers on any unspecific day of the week as long as I’m posting something already. So anyway…

I’ve been watching two shows kind of obsessively lately. Now that I think about it, I seem to do everything obsessively lately. This summer I read obsessively, for example. No great works of literature, mind you, just easy, pleasant, reads. Over 300$ worth of easy, pleasant reads, in fact, as I surmised this week by looking over my amazon charges from June, July and August. Which is astounding, if you think about it, as most of the books I bought were on sale for 1.99. Then in September I started going to the gym obsessively. I went from not setting foot in a gym for the last six years to practically pitching a tent and moving in to one. I went everyday for a month, and now I go three to four times a week. As I said, obsessive.

But going to the gym has obviously let to other “spiraling out of control” behaviors like: obsessive tv watching. Because, you see, I hate the gym, hate it with a passion and honestly a healthy degree of supercilious arrogance borne from years and years as a “dancer”, the gym was for those other people. And now here I am, completely gym obsessed. But back to the tv shows. I need entertainment to go to the gym, otherwise I would want to shoot myself after ten minutes on the treadmill, so I started downloading episodes of “How I Met Your Mother” on my ipad and watching it when I do cardio-type stuff. It keeps my brain from realizing my body’s pedaling furiously or running (slowly) absolutely nowhere for 20 minutes.

I don’t know if/how much that show was popular in the US, though it’s on it’s 8th season at this point, so not too badly, I imagine. In any case, I think it’s funny and it passes the time, which is precisely what I’m going for, so it’s a perfect gym companion. Although the other day, I realized how badly it was trying to be Friends, but somehow failing at it, for some inexplicable reason. Barney channels Chandler constantly he even does the same arm flailing run out of the room that Chandler did, Ted wants to be Ross so badly but without Rachel it just doesn’t work, Marshall is a good, yet not quite as funny Joey, and Robin fails at Rachel just as badly as Lilly sucks at being Monica. It’s a Friends wannabe, but a good one nonetheless. And if you haven’t ever seen the show that last paragraph likely made no sense, so I apologize.

My mom was here last week, and she left me with a renewed lack of confidence regarding my cooking skills (she’s an awesome cook, and though generally I’m not a bad cook, when she’s in town most of the stuff I make ends up being inedible. I think it’s a passive aggressive method my brain uses, unbeknownst to me, to get her to cook for us.) as well as an awesome way to trick my ipad into thinking it’s in the US (something to do with IP addresses – if you’re interested email me and I’ll explain it) so I can now login to Netflix and Hulu and a whole host of other sites that are sucking away whatever small amount of free time I had left. In fact, I’ve started watching Scandal. I highly recommend it.

So between finally being able to watch American tv shows for free on my ipad and the gym, I’ve been obsessively watching tv. I need to get a life.

Another consequence of this health kick I’ve been on is that I decided to do one of those crazy insane no carbs, no sugar, just protein and certain vegetables, go into ketosis -type diets. Only for ten days, thank god, but right now ten days feels like just way too long. Although it’s getting better, the first three days were terrible I had a headache, I was jittery, I was cranky and high-strung, I craved sugar and bread to an almost uncontrollable degree, it felt, for all intents and purposes, how I imagine drug withdrawal to feel like. Now I’m just hungry all the time. For some reason, protein just doesn’t give me that “I’m full” signal, or rather, it does for like half an hour, and then my body and mind go into panicked “give me food, I’m starving” mode. As per several people’s suggestions I’ve been chewing a lot of gum. Even my jaws are getting nicely toned at this point.

I just hope it’s worth it. Also, I never thought I’d be excited about fruit, but next week I get to start eating fruit again, and right now fruit elicits the same anticipation and glee as chocolate would have. I know, that’s kind of sad.

Lastly, I’ve decided it’s time for the Boy to lose the diaper at night. I’ll let you know how it goes. Although, this decision hasn’t made it’s way from my decider to the actual physical world so let’s not hold our breath or anything, but I am starting to consider it and that’s a step in the right direction right? I just don’t want to be laundering peed upon sheets from now till kingdom come, you know? Now that I think about it… he doesn’t really need to be diaperless yet, does he?

And on that note…

I’m over, and out.

Monday Listicles – The Happy Edition

I just had a crazy insane week. We had a huge and very important trade fair last weekend, my Mom arrived, the Girl got sick, Halloween happened, then I got sick, then a Halloween party, a baby shower, and my mom left. Right this minute I’m vegging out on the sofa, cars 2 on the tv, two kids that haven’t made it out of their pjs since the afternoon nap and a serious case of the sugar jitters all around from all the goodies from the shower. I love having parties. I also hate having parties. Having a party with my Mom in town multiplies these feelings by a gazillion bajillion. I’m a perfectionist, my mom makes me look like a slob, put the two of us together and you get party one-upmanship insanity of the “let’s make a diaper baby”, “oh, I’ll make a diaper cake!”, “sounds good, why don’t I make a diaper palace?!!”. We were up till two a.m. last night. And I made this:

I ended up making this cake and what felt like two thousand cupcakes, my mom made a diaper baby.

I’m posting it because I pinned it a few months ago and had been thinking about making it since, so this prove that pinning is useful. That’s my excuse and I’m sticking with it. (Also, if you love me, or even if you just kinda like me, you can pin it from here and I’ll link the original post with how to instructions here, yes I’m hawking my blog on pinterest now.)

Anywwwwaaaaayyyyy, let’s get back to the Monday Listicle. This week Stasha picked Ducky’s (batcrapcrazy) suggestion, which is ten amazing memories from a not so distant past. I’ve been wanting to write a bit more about my kids, so they have something to read when all the wonderfully adorable things they’re doing now will be replaced in the, apparently pretty limited, storage space in my brain with all the wonderfully adorable things they’ll be doing in the future.

So there ya have it, ten amazing memories related to the Boy and the Girl (mostly).

1. this is happening right this minute so I’m recording it in real-time and already it’s one of the things I want to remember: the Girl is feeding me Annie’s organic cheddar cheese rabbits (the modern mom’s version of the goldfish cracker, which, though much saltier, and likely less healthy, remains the superior orange animal shaped cracker) one by one, from her snack box, one for me, one for her. I’m also getting kisses here and there.

(She just slapped me on the nose, twice, am thinking of deleting this as an amazing memory…)

(Now she’s withholding the crackers because I won’t put away the computer. Very annoying child, luckily she’s cute,)

2. Their births: the two of them came out in two directly opposing manners but looking exactly the same which was weird, especially the second time around with the girl, cause it was like having the same baby twice. The amazing memory is, of course, of holding them in my arms, the Boy after a failed labor and emergency c-section and the Girl after a pretty standard labor and a barely missed home birth (as in I almost didn’t make it to the hospital). That brief moment when you realize that by God, you’re somebody’s mother, it’s wonderful and terrifying all at the same time.

3. Another pretty amazing memory, and this one a recurring one, was the feeling of relief when we got the results of the husband’s first bone marrow biopsy after the second transplant. Relief, but not release, because since the leukemia had come back once already we go through a certain degree of trepidation whenever he does the biopsies, but luckily the amazing memory is recurring as his biopsies have been clean since.

4. We’ve recently bought a “house”, the quotes are there because we bought an old 17th century barn which will become a house in the hopefully not too distant future. But that’s not my amazing memory, because the day we bought the house I actually had a mini meltdown, but I’ve already told that story. The first time I went to the house with the husband, with a bunch of crystals and some sage and lavender and I walked around and smudged it, that was the first time the house felt mine. Ours. That’s when it finally felt full of possibility and hope. (And so what if I sound like a crazed new ager!!!)

5. The other night, I turned to the kids after our bedtime routine and said “bedtime” and they both got up and got into bed, no further prompting needed.

6. Saturday I was getting ready for the baby shower I was hosting yesterday, decorating the absolute masterpiece you see above, and the Boy comes downstairs at 11.30pm asking me to walk him back to bed cause he had gotten up to pee. I walked him halfway up the stairs and then relented and let him hang out in the kitchen with his Nana and I and help make the frosting. It was just ten minutes, but it made him so happy, in fact, when I tucked him in he said: thank you mama, that was fun and now I smell like sugar. Can there possibly be anything better than going to bed smelling like sugar?

7. The beach a few weeks ago. There’s nothing quite as relaxing as going to the beach at the end of the season when the days are still nice but there’s no one around.

8. My mom surprising me with a visit last week (surprising because she called Friday and said, Hi, I’ll be there tomorrow), there’s nothing quite as comforting as the feeling of knowing my mom’s going to be here soon. Of course, it only lasts for about five minutes, before I realize that it’s, in fact, equal parts comforting, fun, tiring, and irritating.

9. The Boy sneaking into our bed last night at 3am because he was afraid of “the witches”, his warm little body snuggled up against mine.

10. This sentence uttered a couple of weeks ago in a very serious, slightly suspicious voice: mama, where are you going? You look beautiful. (The sense, of course, was, if you look beautiful it means you’re leaving me and I don’t like that, but who doesn’t appreciate those words, no matter what the meaning behind them is!)

Ok, so not all ten are about my kids, but close enough.  And let me just add that having to sit and think up ten positive memories just made me really happy so thanks Stasha and Ducky!!