The Burrow

It was the best Halloween costume ever. Her parents take the holiday seriously, searching for the perfect outfits in the perfect theme. This one was pinned well before FlapJilly was created. Is it one of your favorite movies? No?  Confused? I am here to help.  Ever heard someone say, " There's no crying in baseball?" A League of Their Own  gave us that,  and Rosie O'Donnell and Madonna and Geena Davis and Tom Hanks  and, for a certain demographic,   OH MY GOD IT'S MY FAVORITE MOVIE!!! That was the second most common comment on our Trick or Treat trek. The first was " She is ADORABLE!!!" It was hard to disagree. The neighbors were kind enough to leave the leaves for Little Cuter's photo shoot. As I sang The Itsy Bitsy Spider crawling up the water spout, FlapJilly danced to the music ... a measure of her love since my rendition was hardly melodious. Dancing consists of shoulder shrugs and plies, fo...

There's a new baby in the world, and she belongs to my yogi.  True, the little girl has parents of her own, but this is a first grandbaby and so, it seems to me, the discussion ends right there. She, like all grandparents, has been waiting a very long time to hold this human.  It's hers, just as FlapJilly is mine. We defer to the parents on all matters relating to the care and well-being of the child, of course. Times have changed, and so have cribs (no side bumpers, no toys, no blankets) and room temperatures and sleep apparel.  Mommy bloggers have all but replaced Dr. Spock.  That's all well and good. We are very glad to have someone else do all the research and tell us exactly how to wash and dry and store the equipment.  She's their's, too, after all .... especially when she's too fussy for words and only dancing with Daddy will soothe the savage beast. Daddy doesn't need to know that we're only giving her up because it's time to ...

My baby is having a baby.   She's gone from "looking like I ate too much for dinner this weekend"  to having a small protrusion in the middle of her body.  Growing in size from a lentil to a grape to a plum to a kumquat, the baby is making its presence known. Everything smells weird.  Her pants don't fit anymore - "not even close." She's over the super-exhaustion that accompanied the start of the adventure - "It's not that I wanted to sleep; I needed  to sleep." Her 36 hours of nausea abated, and she's stopped wondering how anyone could be that sick for more than a day or so.  I try to keep quiet about the three or four months I spent hurling and napping while she was establishing herself in my body; she's already apologized. SIR is proud and happy.  TBG and I are still searching for the words to describe our joy.  We find ourselves looking from one end of the couch to the other, grins plastered on our faces, grins havi...

I was surrounded by love last week. It came in different packages and sizes and sometimes felt like more than I could bear, but it was all love. And it was all good. Midway Airport loved me. It must have, to be so worried about my health and hygiene. What other reason could there be for their announcements - every 5 minutes - reminding me to keep myself safe by washing my hands and covering my mouth when I sneezed or coughed. I decided not to be aggravated by the mind-numbing repetitiveness of it all and to take it as a sign that they cared. A lot. Often. Loudly. But, they cared. Old friends loved me - they drove me to and from the airport without my having to ask. Volunteering to wait in the cell phone lot, to battle rush hour traffic, to interrupt their daily activities so that I didn't have to take a cab or public transit were nothing compared to the fact that they fed me, too. I'm not pleasant when I'm hungry and they knew that and took care of me, because they cared. L...