Shopping for maternity clothes as an athlete is a frustrating expedition. Shopping for maternity clothes as a trainer, when you are stuck in the clothes 5 days a week for 12+ hours, just fuckin’ pisses me off. I’m at the point in my pregnancy where the waistline of my shorts is no longer a loose, comfortable fit, but a rolling, gouging noose around my hips. The baby growing in me probably feels the squeeze as well, so I’m starting to feeling guilty...already...and he’s not even born yet! I shouldn’t feel guilty though. His growth is causing me to have to shop outside of my Patagonia comfort zone. And let me vent for just a few lines on how disappointed I was to learn that Patagonia, my favorite clothing line for work, mountain running, lounging-at-home-wear, and daily-wear does NOT carry a maternity line. I actually cried. And if you say that is just the hormones talking, come a little closer so I can kick you. 

I know a lot of women resort to wearing the maternity tights, however I am not really a tights person. I do my absolute best to not be an uptight person, so squeezing me into tights only occurs when I’m going for a mountain run in the snow and ice, and there’s a slim chance I won’t make it back quickly and need a bit more warmth until I crawl my way out. Otherwise, if you see me in a pair of those tights not in the snow, it’s because we failed to do laundry due to our schedule in the evenings with a 2 year-old, and therefore we’re out of underwear. (This exact situation happened last Saturday.)

I went onto GAP.com today to look at maternity clothes and I immediately diverted my attention to the toddler section. I almost ordered $200 worth of clothes for our son (that is out of the womb already), but checked our account balance and staved off that purchase until payday. Whew! That was a close one. They at least offered a work-out shorts option, so come next payday, I’ll order a pair of those and see how they do as I continue to expand my waistline...not the horizon.

My goal WAS to work as long as our doctor let’s me before the birth, but the lack of clothes might force me to stop working sometime over the next two weeks...weeks 17 & 18. We’re living on a tight budget already, but it’s going to get a lot smaller! Just like my clothes. 

OKAY! Rant over. 




I'm suffering from toddlethargy. If you're a childless wordsmith, you will admonish this word. That's fine. If you are a wordsmith with children, you will commend me for it describes perfectly what it feels like to be a parent to a toddler. You might even be a bit envious that I created this word from pure exhaustion before you did. No worries. I will share it with you and all the other parents in the world. Let us share our suffering of toddlethargy together. Perhaps in song form? Nah...we'll leave that up to Disney. 

I've been so tired from work life and being a mother of a 2 year old that I haven't even been able to pull enough words from my ass to string together sentences that will express a thought and perhaps even become a blog. Until this blog post. Today I mustered enough energy to write about why I've been...well...unable to write. Just forgive me for any redundancy. If there's anything you do as a parent to a young child, it's that you're often repeating yourself...repeatedly. 

My day job has me up early, often before 5:30AM, and once work is over, MAYBE a quick trail run, a walk for our dog, the grocery store, and then I pick our son up from daycare. We get home, I make dinner, we all eat, a family walk, a bit of playtime, reading, bath some nights, and then bed. 


It's a bit frustrating, yet I love my time with our son so much that I'm truthfully only fretting a little bit. Besides, when you have toddlethargy, what little energy you have left goes into brushing your teeth, showering...you know, the personal hygiene stuff so you can venture out into the world tomorrow somewhat feeling normal with a large-ass cup of coffee in one hand, and your other hand holding your child's. 

So please forgive absences when they occur. Family and sleep are important, and I promise that when the words start flowing, I'll start typing.  

 He doesn't stop moving! And I love it. :)

He doesn't stop moving! And I love it. :)

Sick Mommies

It finally happened. We are both sick and barely functioning, yet we have a toddler. Luckily our son's break from our germs is daycare. Kinda ironic, isn't it? He's taking a break from germs at home to go to school where he is surrounded by more germs (and a lot of love, playtime, learning, SET NAP TIMES, food, and more). 

Since we are sick and do not want to infect his daycare with the plague, we decided to instruct him on how to walk to school. I hope you enjoy his response. He seemed positive he would make it...

My Woebegone Entry


My equanimity is waning.

We lost another good person last week.  I fear that only the good people in the world are dying, and every time another dies, the good within that person is sucked from the earth, and delivered elsewhere. I can’t say for sure it’s delivered to another place whose inhabitants deserve it, or if it’s held aside by some higher being to dispense when seen fit back to us to use wisely and live peacefully.

I don’t have all the answers, and neither do you. I’m just sharing a fear I have.

Those filled with hate and greed imprecate against the good, loving people. I worry our love is a lit candle slowly being snuffed out by the xenophobes. Though they are not our nemeses, our fight has been long, and for some fucking reason, it seems the evil fuckers aren’t dying. They seem to be thriving as of late. Their massive hate and greed sludge is oozing from their orifices and squelching the love that remains.

Maybe I’m just tired, and so this dysphoria is weighing on me.

Perhaps the good lost by those who die does not leave, but is absorbed by Gaia herself to enable the win in her favor, and therefore in our favor as well, for we are encased in her shell.

I only hope our son will witness this uplifting triumph and feel peace.


2018 Shut-Down

Happy New Year everyone! I woke up early this morning to our son handing me my glasses, and then grabbing my right hand to pull me out of bed. He's an ambitious early-riser.

After wishing him a happy New Year, I decided to inform him of something very important:

Me: Sawyer, happy New Year!

Sawyer: Oh wow wow.

Me: Just so you know, 2018 is the year that Mommies are in charge. Ok?

Sawyer: No. No.


I got shut-down by a toddler. He's a bit defiant early in the morning...on the first day of the year...which landed on a Monday...also one of the worst days of the week. Sheesh. I can understand now why he refuses to relinquish control.


Lincoln's 2017 Holiday Letter

December 2017


Dear Hoomans,

Psst! I’ve got 28 seconds to write this letter before Sawyer finds me.

I just wanted to wish you a Happy Holidays!



P.S. Oh wait! He just got distracted by the toilet paper roll and is running toward the back door with a streamer behind him. Moms haven’t noticed yet. I wonder how far he’ll get…

Quick update before he starts looking for me again. We are all doing well, just fuckin’ exhausted from chasing a toddler around! My brother has quite the imagination as to the various shenanigans he can use me for! To him I’m a stepping stool, my tail is a rope that will pull him across the house, and my jowls are a way to strengthen his pinch. Of course, he loves me, and I him. We’re just to the point in our sibling relationship where we push each other’s buttons now and then. 



Though there is a 101-month age difference between us, I’ve learned that we do have quite a bit in common. We love suckies (AKA stuffed animals); we both love to eat steak, pizza, shrimp, Brussel sprouts, and much more; he likes to dig in the garden, and I love to bury bones in the garden (quickly before Mom catches me!); we both hate baths; and if I had the time and the brain energy, I know I could list more. Weirdly though, he doesn’t like to sleep much, whereas I will gladly sleep 20 hours each day, give-or-take 4 hours. It’s like the kid has this never ending natural sugar, or cocaine high…or both…that keeps him running, jumping, climbing, rolling, dancing, crawling, and falling nonstop. Moms have us on a strict budget so we can afford to send him to daycare, so I’m going to guess he’s running on sugar, because the price of cocaine is INSANE. It’s like Bitcoin insane!


We’ve had a few rough patches this year that do not include the current political shit storm. Earlier this month we lost Milo, and each day the loss and pain we feel has yet to lighten. He is greatly missed, and can never be replaced. The wild fires did not take our home, but they did wreak havoc on thousands of peoples’ lives, and they put us on edge. We are grateful that we were lucky to survive, are able to help others that desperately need it, and that 2017 is coming to a close.

                 Please don't let him drive!!

                Please don't let him drive!!

Moms introduced Sawyer to camping this year, and according to him, he loved it! They went twice—once to the coast, and once to gold country. I was lucky enough to stay with Grandpa and Grandma in their nice house with comfy beds. I do not regret my decision to sleep inside while they slept under the stars. However, Moms did let Sawyer drive at the campgrounds, which now has him thinking that he can drive ALL THE TIME. This worries me. If I’m not allowed to drive, he shouldn’t be allowed! 

My brother has made a lot of friends at daycare, and I have had the joy of meeting them, and watching them play at the park on the weekends sometimes. Toddlers are hilariously unpredictable, but I’m always the center of attention when I’m there, unless the ice cream guy rolls around. But that’s ok, because I love the ice cream guy as well!

We hope all is well with you, and that you enjoy the holidays. Please keep in touch, and if you ever want to borrow a toddler, just let me know! He’s available for rent ONLY (according to Moms).

Love You!

P.P.S. Moms and Sawyer say hi! They also wanted me to let you know that I am available for rent (ONLY) as well…damnit.


He’s Still Alive and Kicking!

My wife was out of town this past weekend, and even though our son, dog, and I had a lot of fun (to the point that I spent half of Sunday trying to clean up all of our messes), we definitely missed her and were quite happy to see her when she returned home Monday. We each missed her in our own ways. I missed her smile that is often lit via the iPhone’s blue light as she reads The Onion or some other online news article. Her absence was especially felt during the evening hours whenever our son would wake up, or the night that our dog had to go outside four times because of diarrhea. Our toddler kept asking for her, and bringing me her running shoes. Perhaps he wanted me to click those Altra heels together and wish her home at that instant? He was in a happy mood all weekend, but did have bits of crankiness that were a little unusual—a sign he knew that life at home was not normal this weekend.  

While she was gone, I was extra diligent with keeping him alive. I always am, but I was nanny careful this weekend. I never have a desire for anything to go wrong and him experience harm. I just was not as lenient as I am with him exploring, using new tools (like the garden shears), and climbing parts of playground equipment that would probably have a “Warning” sign attached if the Parks Director really wanted to. I also checked on him multiple times while he was sleeping to make sure he was still breathing, and I did not fool around with choking-hazardous food this weekend. I refused to let our son die on my watch. I even told him that. 

Me: “Hey Crazy. You’re not allowed to die on my watch this weekend.” 

Son: Silence...a cock of the head with a cute smile, “No! No!” 180 degree turn...fart...and he took off running across the yard toward the garden shears I left on the table . 🤦🏽‍♀️

He’s such a good listener and heeder of parental requests.  



The definition of toddler is one that toddlesToddles means, to walk with short tottering steps in the manner of a young child. Toddlerdom is the period when one is a toddler, apparently 12 months up to five years. 

Our son as a toddler, ignored the toddles part of the definition, and went straight to sprints, escapes, and teenage rebellion. 

For us, toddlerdom is Chaos Theory coming to life before our eyes. I have invested highly in bandaids and Home Depot (gonna have to buy a lot of tools to fix everything), and I am setting aside large sums of cash for the future therapy that WE will need.  Like most humans, we strive for some sense amongst the chaos of toddlerdom. The random frustrated tears and fits that have us wondering if he stepped on a tack, was bit by a snake, or lost a limb right under our noses have us scrambling to find out the cause. Within minutes the thought that we suck as mothers for not discovering what led to his tears runs through our heads, and so we succumb to his emotions and do our best to calm him. 

Our son is striving to set new heights as a toddler. He has escaped out of his room at daycare more than once through the backdoor, forcing them to get a gate for that door. He has also attempted to escape through a window at daycare IN FRONT OF THE DIRECTOR. He's generous with his escapades, and invites his classmates to join him. His influence over other kids is quite impressive as well. Just last week I saw a 7 year old regress behaviorally and join our son in a game of "let's see if our Moms can prevent us from running into the middle of downtown Main Street." I now have three gray hairs. 

 His obsession with driving started at a young age. 

His obsession with driving started at a young age. 

 We helped him with his obsession as well. 

We helped him with his obsession as well. 

There is one way to guarantee our son will get upset and throw a fit--being in and near our cars. He loves "driving" our cars. I know, you're thinking, Cute! He has an imagination! I agree, it is cute...until he throws a fit because we won't let him "drive" the car all the time. I will NOT admit that we MAY have let him sit on my lap and "steer" while we drove around the campsite at 10MPH this past Summer. I won't admit that. Let's just say he's got an excellent imagination, and leave it at that. So his imagination of actually driving is why he loves it so much, and therefore he gets very upset when we don't let him "drive" and we ask him to exit the vehicle (like a Park Ranger would ask him IF we ever let him drive at a campsite and get caught). Unfortunately he throws a fit, which involves tears, and him doing an excellent impersonation of a quadriplegic. 

 He does look good in the driver’s seat! 

He does look good in the driver’s seat! 

A friend of his grandparents had the joy of witnessing Sawyer upset because we wouldn't let him "drive" this past Sunday. His tears and sadness pulled on his heartstrings, so that friend helped us coax him to the crosswalk so we could make it to the restaurant only six minutes late. As we said good bye to him, he said that it was great to see us, and that he was now going to go home and immediately make a donation to Planned Parenthood. No joke. Our son inspired someone to donate to Planned Parenthood. We laughed, because it was the perfect comment for what we had just gone through, but I'm hoping that our son doesn't inspire others to donate to Planned Parenthood for too much longer. Toddlerdom is hilarious, but also quite exhausting!!

 Crap. He found a tractor. We’ll never be able to get him down.

Crap. He found a tractor. We’ll never be able to get him down.

P.S. Just to clarify, we still want people to donate to Planned Parenthood--they need it! We just hope that our son doesn't continue to inspire people to donate because of his...well, for lack of a better word, "toddles." (My wife wanted me to type, "assholery," but I refrained.)


Today is our four year anniversary, and true to our promise on our ten year anniversary for our first date earlier this month, we high-fived. (Just read the Ten Year Anniversary blog posted on 9/19/17.) The first high-five was via text. She was asleep when I left for work this morning, so I gave her a kiss goodbye, but didn't want to wake her with a high-five. That requires hand-eye coordination and effort, which would have awakened her...maybe.

At 7:25AM she text me the high-five emoji, and I responded with one myself, along with telling her, "I love you."  

 Proof of our emoji high-five 4-year wedding anniversary gift to each other. 

Proof of our emoji high-five 4-year wedding anniversary gift to each other. 

When she arrived home from work, we immediately high-fived and hugged each other. I think this is the best gift I've ever given her, because it cost us no money! For us, this is a great start to another year of marriage.  

Ten Year Anniversary

Dana and I celebrated our 10 year anniversary earlier this month. We started dating in early September 2007, and since our first date was on 9/11/07, we chose to get married on 9/28/13, so we could still celebrate our anniversary in September. I know, it's crazy that we would choose 9/11 as the date for our first date, but when you ask a woman if she'd like to go out, and she says "yes", you just immediately freak out and say, "How about tomorrow night?" Well, she said "sure," and "tomorrow night" was 9/11. 

It can also be confusing when I tell people we just celebrated our 10 year anniversary, and then when I see the look of amazement on their faces because they think we've been married for that long, I quickly inform them that we have only been married for 4 years. We would have gotten married beforehand, but it wasn't legal for the first 5 years of our relationship. Not all lesbians do the whole U-haul first date, and some of us actually do take our time jumping into marriage. Dana turned down 13 of my proposals before she finally asked me if I'd marry her so we could get the tax break. What can I say? When you know, you know. 

We went out for dinner just the two of us to Cala in SF (https://www.calarestaurant.com). I have been wanting to eat there since they opened two years ago, and the meal and experience was everything I had hoped, and more. Sawyer's Aunt Laura, Aunt Jaclyn, and Uncle Ryan came over to babysit him. Yes. It took THREE adults, take-out food, 1 bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, two books, Lincoln and Oakley (a boxer), and whiskey to babysit our son. Weirdly, there were four jelly jars that smelled like whiskey at the end of the night, which makes me wonder whether or not Sawyer also enjoyed some whiskey. No wonder he slept well that night! 


We exchanged gifts, and here is where I fucked up. I'm usually an excellent gift-giver. It's something I enjoy doing, and I really love the look on someone's face when they receive something they like. Part of my gift to Dana was not spending a lot of money on a gift for her since we're on a very tight budget. I decided to get her a book that I thought she'd enjoy since she loves history, reads a lot of current events, and given the political shit-storm we're in with this administration, a book that might warn us about not repeating the past. I bought her: The Origins of Totalitarianism, by Hannah Arendt. I just explained to you why I bought her the book, but did not feel the need to explain why to the gentleman behind the register at Napa Bookmine (http://www.napabookmine.com) when I went to pay. I just asked if he'd please wrap it and indicated that it was for my wife as an anniversary gift (so he wouldn't wrap it in birthday wrap). He read the title, looked at me plainly, and said, "She's gonna leave you." I laughed, and of course my stupidity on the purchase of this book, and not heeding this gentleman's advice, is what prompted this blog. I should also mention that I know a lot of the people that work in the store because I'm a book worm, so I'm always looking for more reading material, and I love to buy journals from there. He felt comfortable sharing this advice with me. I just didn't listen. 

I should have listened.

I also gave Dana a gift certificate to Sportago (http://www.sportago.com) because unfortunately both of our puffy Patagonia jackets were stolen earlier this year, and we need to replace them before we head up to the mountains this Winter. I thought that this was a thoughtful and practical gift, but now that I think about it, I should have just bought her a jacket any other time but our 10 year anniversary. 

I suck. 

Dana's gift to me? Fuckin' amazeballs!!! She gave me a sweet card, and in the card she informed me that she is taking me to Yosemite in April. I HAVE BEEN WANTING TO GO TO YOSEMITE SINCE WE MOVED TO CALIFORNIA IN 2008!!!!!! I practically give Dana, her Mom, and sister shit weekly for going without me in 2009. And not only do we get to go, but her family is watching Sawyer and Lincoln. We are finally having our honeymoon!!! I practically cried. This is absolutely the sweetest gift she could have given me, besides our son. And all I did was give her a book and a gift certificate. I have no idea how I will ever redeem myself, but we do have our 5 year wedding anniversary next year, so I will definitely give her a much better gift then. 

On our way home from our anniversary dinner, Dana asked if we needed to celebrate our 4 year wedding anniversary that is coming up in a few weeks. Because we're on a tight budget, and we just spent a lot of money for dinner and the excellent gift she gave me, I knew that she didn't want to spend any more money. I just smiled and said, "Nope. We'll just give each other high-5s."  She smiled. I think I'll tack my response onto my gift to her. At least she liked one of my gifts then!

 Photo by Kevin Weinstein

Photo by Kevin Weinstein


The Kickstarter campaign for Lincoln's first children's book, I, Lincoln, Did Not Ask For This, has 40 days to go! So far we are at $2,340, with our goal being $7,000. One of our friends was having difficulty donating on the website, so I offered to have Dana go through the link to see what the steps were. (I am unable to go through the link because apparently I am not allowed to donate to my own project. I am okay with this.) I told Dana she was going to donate $10.

Me: "Go get your credit card Honey."

Dana: "What? I'm not donating $10."

Me: "I can't believe you're not going to donate $10 to your own wife's fundraiser."

Dana: "If we're $10 away from getting $7000, then I'll donate."





 Illustration by Annie Ruygt

Illustration by Annie Ruygt




The Kickstarter campaign for my first children’s book, I, Lincoln, Did Not Ask For This, was launched today! I am ecstatic that we already have pledges, and I hope the news will continue to travel and bring in more support. Please check out the link: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/2101792383/i-lincoln-did-not-ask-for-this 

While driving up and down the valley these past couple of weeks, I’ve been listening to the audio book, This is the Story of a Happy Marriage, by Anne Patchett. A friend loaned it to me, and I am very grateful for this loan! So grateful, I’ll be purchasing the book to re-read whenever I need her insightful guidance into personal essays, memoir writing, and just life. I feel so much like she is talking directly to me, which is definitely key for writing personal essays. While listening to her read, the congestion, lack of turn signals, and tourists disappears. We are sitting in a pub, enjoying our drinks, and I’m sponging every word she shares with me until we pause to order another round before the words continue flowing...damn, another red light.

My connection with Anne is one-sided, for we've never met. It’s just all in my head and heart, both necessary organs to live fully. When the Kickstarter campaign was launched this afternoon, I first sent the link to my wife, and then to Andrea Ruygt (http://www.annieruygtillustration.com/blog/), the kick-ass Illustrator of the book. Shortly thereafter, as all life-changing announcements seem to go, I posted the link to Facebook (@ILincolnBooks). I really wanted to send the link directly to Anne via text, but then reminded myself that I do not have her cell because we do not actually know each other. (Hopefully this is not a foretelling of my mental well-being.) Again, a one-sided relationship. Until that changes, I will keep my fingers crossed that MAYBE she and Karen Hayes will sell I, Lincoln, Did Not Ask For This in their bookstore, Parnassus Books (http://www.parnassusbooks.net).



I realized this morning that in order to pitch the sale of I, Lincoln, Did Not Ask For This to Anne & Karen at Parnassus Books, I should actually research their bookstore. My love for Anne’s books will get my foot in the door to shop, but definitely not promise to get our book on her shelves to sell. Serendipity took the moment I clicked on the link to their bookshop website. THEY HAVE DOGS THAT WORK IN THEIR STORE AND SNUGGLE WITH YOU WHILE YOU SHOP!!! They also have a blog, and some of those posts are about the dogs! Brilliant. I immediately read the post, “Let Us Tell You ‘bout Our Friend Leonard” (https://parnassusmusing.net/2017/07/26/our-friend-leonard/). LOVED IT. If Leonard didn’t have a home and a job in Nashville, Lincoln and Sawyer would have a new brother. I now must pitch our book in-person in order to meet all of the dogs, especially Leonard! In fact, Lincoln might want to personally pitch his book to the dogs of Parnassus Bookstore! We should schedule a FaceTime meeting.  

 Illustration by Annie Ruygt

Illustration by Annie Ruygt

Hopefully I'll be purchasing plane tickets to Nashville, TN in 2018 to read Lincoln's book at Parnassus Bookstore. Keep your fingers crossed! Actually, mine are crossed constantly, so you should keep yours uncrossed In order to help me accomplish other tasks that require the use of hands.

Yep. I just recruited you. 


Sometimes you can skate through life with just an apple. 


And when it's a shit day, you don a helmet, get a hug from your Mom... 


and then dump all the water out of the dog bowl.  



Soak Up the Love!

Sawyer loves gardening, and tonight he decided to enjoy the sprinkler... 


Until he didn't. Whoops.  


I love every second with our son, and I store away every emotion I feel being with him. It's like an extra hug around my heart. Right now, given the latest actions from a small group of Nazis who have penises so minute in size only their mother could love 'em, he brings joy that wipes their pledged hate away. His curiosity, love, laughter, craziness, and cries, all which occurred in this sequence of events with the sprinkler this evening, are a true testament that love (and hopefully prosecution) will conquer. 😛

Look to your children, your pets, your significant others, your family, and your friends. Breathe in the love that they have for you, and you for them. Oh! And don't forget to punch the Nazis. They don't deserve (nor do they welcome!) our love. Those bastards...

Shameful Voter's Remorse--Does It Exist?


I was, and still am, astonished at the number of individuals I personally know who voted for Trump (who will forever in my blog be referred to as Fucknut). Prior to the election, I would ask, "How and why would you vote for a racist, misogynistic, homophobic, greedy person? Do you support those beliefs?" The responses I got was, "He's not racist;" or "He's not homophobic;" and "You won't lose your rights." I was personally offended and scared.  

Now I might not have lost my American rights yet because I'm white, but others have, and even more people have lost their lives all because you voted to put the hateful Fucknut and his goons into the White House. So, I now ask, do you have voter's remorse? Do you still support Fucknut as the leader of the UNITED States of America? Do you like being associated with Fucknut as a racist, mysogynistic, homophobic and greedy individual? Were you this hateful of diversity and women before he became the President and you feel it's okay to continue to publicly announce it and show your hate just because he condones it? Or do you perhaps have the inner strength and love to admit your shame for voting for Fucknut and being blinded by your own greed and hate?


Are you scared yet? I sure as hell am.  


From the Desk of the Wobblers...

The Wobblers are at it again folks! They had a request for the Director of the Daycare, so they decided to make their request known via letter...

From the Desk of…

                            The Wobblers                                                              

                                                                         (The Littlest Hoodlums)


August 9, 2017

Dear Kerry,

First and foremost, it is with great pleasure that we would like to thank you for bringing us together. Your daycare has been the starting point for the “LPE Moms” text chain that has brought many “dings” into our lives, along with Wobbler gatherings, rants, laughs, and memories. We have become such a tight group that we have decided to make a request (and yes, we know that this is not our first one). We would like to request that our recently named Toddlers remain blessed with the name Wobblers. We would like our Wobblers to remain as Wobblers preferably until the age of 18 years, however we know you only have control over this until they leave LPE.

We understand that you will need to have another name for the new group that was suppose to be called the Wobblers, and we would love to throw out some ideas. We have included potential group names below. These are offered to you free of charge. 😜

Please let us know your thoughts in-person or via Brightwheel. Thank you again for keeping our kids happy and safe!!!


The Wobblers' Mothers


Woah-Woahs           Wibblers                Pre-T or NQTs (Not Quite Toddlers)

Drunken Sailors       Ramblers              Teeters or Totters


Here is the Director's Response... 

Dear Toddlers,
I have read your request to remain the “Wobblers”.
Who is the leader of this “Wobbler Group”?
It could be Teagan because she is always greeting me with a smile and a wave
hoping to get something. ….
It could be Sawyer who is always ready for a fast escape and can help show them the
way out…..
It could be Henry who seems to always want a “Taco” and maybe will bribe me with
It could be Jax who seems to always chase me down with a push toy…..
It could be Emmy with all her sly dance moves and shimmy on into my office….
It could be Gracie who is the Momma Bear of the group….
It could be Emma who is the musician will organize a march right out of the
classroom with her drumming skills…..
It could be Seb who is now a “Big Kid” who will lead the way for a name change later
It could be Dakota who seems to be taking the Lawyer route in life and making sure
that I am doing my job by watching my every move in the classroom…….
It could be Elizabeth who is quiet one and can organize a surprise attack on the
It could Colm who is bribing me with snuggles while I read my favorite book to
Although you are Toddlers, I think we can meet you half way to your demand. I will
have you named as the Toddlers but always refer this class as the Honorary
Wobbler Class. I in exchange will make sure that their entire career here at LPE will
call them the Wobblers. I am not sure how they might feel being referred to as
“Wobblers” when they are really Preschoolers/Jr. Kindergarteners. I might have
mass mutiny and demand another name change but for now I will refer to you as

Ms. Kerry
(One of my favorite books to read to the kids is Click, Clack, Moo Cows that Type by
Doreen Cronin. I instantly thought of this book when I read the letter).


We absolutely loved the Director's response. Her individual notes regarding each Wobbler was a testament to how much she cares for each of our kids. And we get to keep the Wobbler title for our littlest hoodlums!! This just goes to show that clear communication, topped with a bit of humor and a bunch of cute Wobblers, is how life in general should be tackled. Now...if only the idiots in the White House could learn from our Wobblers...

Waffle in Car Begets Coffee in Bed

If you're a parent, at multiple points during parenthood, you have, and will continue to, experience your child falling asleep in the car. In order to not disturb the sleeping dragon, you stay in the car until he or she wakes up all droopy-eyed and peaceful, happily ready to face the next hour of the day...hopefully. Our son fell asleep Saturday after a trip to the Farmer's Market, so Dana remained in the car with him while I went inside to make breakfast for my niece. 

I was in a loving mood, and given how horrible cold waffles taste, I decided to take Dana a waffle to eat in the car. She got a kick out of it AND the next day made me coffee and brought it to me in bed without me even asking!!! If it was the holiday season, I would have thought it was a Christmas or Chanukah miracle...but it's not, and now I need to figure out how to keep this going. I love being woken up with a hot mug of coffee and our son's smile as he tries to drink it before I do. 

If you have any ideas, please share them with me in the comments  section below. I want this to become a weekend ritual!!

 Proof of my love via waffle delivery.

Proof of my love via waffle delivery.

Our Budding Cheeky Tyke


Sawyer's Aunt Laura came over last night to visit. She had returned home the night before from being gone for a week, and had shown up with a ball for Sawyer. He loves it! It's not his first ball, but he definitely treated it like it was. 


After playing in the kitchen with it for a bit he bit into it (he thinks he's a dog like his brother Lincoln), and carried it into our bedroom. Laura followed, along with our voiced reminders, "Sawyer, you're not a dog." I stood in the doorway while Laura stood by our bed getting a kick out of Sawyer marching and dancing on our bed, babbling away and holding the ball up to Laura and the sun god as a "thank you." He's pretty good about knowing where the edges of the bed are, but last night he was thrilled to the point that his inner warning-signal was turned off, and he high-stepped it right off the side of the bed and hit the floor head first. Oye.

Laura picked him up and handed him to me. Dana came in and we both comforted him. I asked him the same question I ask clients: "Can you please point to the spot that hurts the most?" He paused and pushed himself away from my chest, so I set him down. He walked back to the side of the bed he had fallen from, and then he laid down on his side exactly in the spot he had just fallen. Yep! He showed me the spot that hurt him the most--the spot on the ground where he had fallen. 

He's been giving us signals here-and-there these past few months that he's going to be a good smart ass, but that one, at 15 months, is definitely the one that has taken the cake so far. We need to be on our toes with this one! 

Today's Emotional Gamut

A wicked day that ran the gamut of emotions. Every appointment with clients went wonderfully, and I was blessed with 90 minutes of free time to get some work done with a much-needed cup of coffee at the NVRC--happy! Unfortunately, mid-morning one of the gym members was unnecessarily rude to another member. I addressed it professionally and politely. He ignored me, turned his back, so I walked around and said, "Sir, what's wrong?" He looked at me, and shushed me...then kept doing his exercise. He has a reputation for being rude to other members, to me, to my clients, and for some odd reason, lacks the capability to share weight machines when he is lifting. I walked back to my client, and then requested one of the managers from the front desk to come to the back. I informed her as to what happened, and asked her to address it with the Director of the gym. I felt horrible for everyone who had to witness the tantrum that man threw, and for the other member who he addressed rudely. I also had to calm down because I was upset and angry. I was at work, so I had to handle the situation differently than I would have if it had happened...say on the sidewalk. On a sidewalk I would gladly have told him to stop behaving like an asshole. Unfortunately, I was at work. Ah well...

After that wonderful incident, life continued beautifully with clients, and following work Dana met up with me to run errands before we went to pick our son up at daycare. We arrived, and on our way to his room, two teachers burst out of one of the rooms screaming for help. My initial thought was, "Is someone attacking them?" (I was probably still running on a bit of anger from the earlier incident and was ready to...well...act accordingly.) That split second question was answered when I saw the baby in one of their arms. "Shit. It's a kid." I sprinted, caught the fact that she wasn't breathing and was unresponsive, and began back blows just in case she had food stuck in her airway. Three good back blows, and I heard, and felt, a physical reaction. I don't know if she ever had something stuck in her airway, or if it just caused her to start breathing (you have to smack hard on back blows, so I apologize now if she has a bruise on her back from me). I flipped her back over, looked, listened, and felt to see if there was movement. She started with agonal gasps, but her eyes were responsive. I held her, bounced her, and just waited to see if normal breathing would return. It felt like a bit of time, but I knew it was only a few seconds. She just needed a jump start...a good slap on the back. I was thankful that I didn't need to start chest compressions.

I took her outside because I needed to continue to hear her breathing (other babies were crying), and because I wanted to check to see if her pupils would react to light. They did. That was another relief. Her mother arrived shortly thereafter, and the paramedics and fire fighters weren't too far behind. I handed her off, gave info on what happened, and then walked into our son's classroom where he was with my wife. (One of his classmates was going bonkers over the lights on the ambulance and fire engine. Very cute.) So, there was some excitement, fear, and weirdly sadness that I got to experience after I thought my day was over. Dana says that she was proud of me, and that she doesn't worry if anything goes wrong with our son while I'm around because I'll handle it well. That made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. (Question: Does anyone remember reading the Warm Fuzzy, Cold Prickly book when they were young? I wonder if my parents still own that book...it would be a great book to sneakily give to that rude gym member.)

Arriving home finally, after eating dinner with my family, catching our son emptying the recycling bag and trying to drink from an empty beer can, I realized something. Hateful, angry, greedy pricks do not matter, nor do they deserve our energy. The children--they deserve our love, presence, and energy. They matter. Cheers to you kids! Especially you Son.

Now I'm going to bed, because I had one hell of an emotional day.