Today, we celebrate our main man, Gavin. He's 10.
Double digits. One - zero.
Yea. I'm not really sure how that happened either.
He's taller than my shoulder. Just shy of my shoe size. Totally overgrown for my lap. But he still tries to sit there. Mostly so he can quietly share little things from his day to a one-woman
If you know, you know.
As in ... you may be panicked Santa isn't going to be able to find one...or, er, have the elves make one for your little cherub...before he leaves for his world-wide journey on December 24.
Hatchimals, people. They're THE toy this Christmas. Apparently these things are gonna be like Cabbage Patch Kids circa 1983. Maybe they already are judging by this
Words are hard to find today, aren't they?
Maybe not ... if you're looking for continued divisiveness. Seems prevalent on the media - social or otherwise.
I haven't said much during this election process.
Well, I don't like to get caught up in the discourse. I was raised in a time and community where speaking about politics, money and religion weren't common. Traditional?
This time last year, I sat in my chair and worried about Gavin and Grace, both of whom were nervous for their first day of school.
This year, I sit in my chair, and smile to myself because both Gavin and Grace are super excited for school to start. Like literally could not wait.
I am so glad. Gladder than I've ever been since moving
Since it's #nationaldogday, I thought it was fitting to share the story of how Grace and I took Bob for a walk last weekend.
It was setting up to be a warm day, so, in an attempt to beat the heat, we headed out early.
Judging by preparations alone, this walk was gonna be epic. I mean, there was a lot of prep involved:
Ah, summer. The time of year when you spend tons and tons of time with your kids and get to know them on a whole 'nother level. Again. Even with our work schedules staying the same and the Gs heading to camp every day, we spend a lot of time together hanging out at night (read: no homework and later bedtimes!).
This summer, it's apparent
Over the years, I've had a few mishaps with people mispronouncing my name.
Mostly, the experience has been with children during babysitting incidents.
Two great ones come to mind:
My best friend and I were babysitting a young girl on her street who apparently found Bridget to be a foreign word for her young vocabulary. Hilariously, however, "Birdshit" was not, and that became my name
Yes, that's right.
Our nine year old has a perspective on dating.
An innocent conversation between Gavin and Grace turned to teasing each other about "dating". Hmmmm. I am not particularly ready for this to be part of the Clark family vernacular, but it was seemingly innocent. (As in I got the sense that neither of them understood what dating actually was.)
A car ride.
Some good tunes.
My husband. Our son. Our daughter. Our dog.
A gray day on the Coast.
A long, long, long walk on the beach.
With the loves of my life.
Running to the frigid waves.
Running from the frigid waves.
Enjoying each other.
Mother's Day perfection.
(and, perhaps, the makings of a more frequent occurrence.)
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This week, I gave my kids the gift of a story that will become part of their permanent memories.
A tale that they will use to regale friends and family members alike for years and years and years to come.
A tale that will quite possibly be part of my defining legacy here on this earth.
A tale that probably would have defined just how