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September 2015
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November 2015

Cafe Zah

(In which I once again use my blog to basically republish shit I already put on Instagram.) (THIS IS WHY WE CAN'T HAVE NICE BLOGS, AMY.) On Friday, like something out of a goddamn Disney movie, the winds abruptly changed and the temperature plunged and Jason found a pile of Duraflame logs in the garage. Combined with the sad uncovered pile of wet firewood from the side of the house, we officially had our first fire in the fireplace. Ezra was transfixed, then inspired. He dragged our little table and chairs up from the basement, and added a blanket for a tablecloth. "I wish we could eat our dinner here," he sighed, like, I'm not even going to ask, because my delicate little heart can't handle hearing you say no. "I am totally okay with that," I told him, briefly dipping into Fun Mom territory before veering back into Endless Horrible Nag mode, "just don't spill anything or touch the fireplace and youguysbetteractuallyeatandnofighting." He set out the Fancy Plates (a vintage Serva-Snack set I bought off Etsy for this very purpose but never remember to use nearly enough, as it completely delights them every time it makes an appearance) and... Read more →

Two Steps Back

So of course, after a week of momentous firsts! and progress! and nostalgic amazement over ALL THE THINGS, we were due for a crash. There was an incident on the school bus on Wednesday, which I heard nothing about until Thursday, when I stepped outside to take Ike to preschool, only to find another mom from the neighborhood awkwardly waiting to talk to me. Because um, your kid punched mine. Could he...not? /head explodes all over the driveway There's a particularly brutal flavor of shame/guilt that comes from finding out your child did something just plain wrong, something he knows better than to do, and then a weird reflexive circle-jerk of searching for excuses or alternate interpretations or reasons why THIS IS ALL JUST ONE BIG MISUNDERSTANDING. And after talking with Noah, there's still a small, petulant part of me that feels like it WAS, as he seemed completely clueless/stunned that the other kid was upset or even bothered, it was part of a game, not really a "punch" at all, the bus driver didn't even notice anything, etc. But he was likewise completely clueless to the fact that he's much BIGGER than the other kid, so any sort of... Read more →