24/7

I was detained by snow at the bottom of our 1/4 mile long driveway this afternoon on our way home from a doctor's appointment. Amidst a flurry of profanity that fell somewhere between my imagination and audible levels, I got out of the car and made my way to The Boss's backseat office. I pulled on her hat and stuffed her hands into mittens. The woven pink and white tubes where her thumbs were supposed to go hung limply. I didn't have the time or inclination to fight her opposable digits into place. The winding, unpaved driveway leading up to our home is owned by our neighbors. An easement granting us right-of-way is the only thing that allows us legal access to the rest of the world. The problem with such an arrangement is that we have an almost total lack of control when it comes to maintaining the driveway. In the spring and summer, it is one huge mud rut that's a rainstorm or two away from total annihilation. In the winter, it's traversable only by off-road vehic

Today I took The Boss with me to the town hall to deposit some checks related to a local newsletter I publish. As I recorded and tabulated, she conversed at length with everyone who walked by. One elderly gentleman took a seat next to her. "I watched Curious George all night long," she informed him. I shifted my attention from the receipt sheet to my daughter with eyebrow arched. "No, you didn't," I said. "Unless you were watching it in your dreams." The Boss solemnly lifted her chin in my direction. She was tilted in thought. Then she spoke up: "Am I a dreamer, mommy?" The man chuckled. "I hope so," I said.

Outward Appearances: 19 weeks gestation The Inside Scoop: 19 weeks gestation Why is that ultrasound technicians consistently print the worst pictures even when presented with more than thirty minutes of beautifully rendered fetal photo ops? I used to chalk it up to bad taste, but with this pregnancy I admit there is an extenuating circumstance. Since we've decided not to find out the gender of this baby in-utero, I think that the pressure not to expose any secrets left the technician with a limited body of work from which to choose. Back when The Boss was still sucking in amniotic fluid on the ultrasound screen, we got whole body shots. Head to toe. Since we wanted to find out the sex, nothing was held back. This time around, the tech was careful to make her measurements in careful segments that would not allow any genitalia to creep in unannounced. In one screen, there was a femur. In another, the balloon of a mid-section. The head. The neck. The heart (133 bpm, by the way). B

If you haven’t read my New England Mamas post from yesterday, you may want to. It’s an important preface to what I am about to tell you, which is that I peeked through the translucent window of my oven last night to find its insides ablaze. Yes, I used the oven once again, post-pumpkin-incident, without scraping out the remains of the pie. Yes, it finally caught on fire. Yes, I am that stupid. And you can just imagine what a difficult time someone of my limited mental capacity would have figuring out how to operate the fire extinguisher. After opening the oven door to gaze upon the horror first-hand, I deduced that this was no wispy candle flame. This fire was hungry, and it would not be satiated by a shapeless mass of pumpkin, sugar and egg. I slammed the door shut. My next stop was the closet, where I fought with a plastic wall bracket for the rights to the fire extinguisher. I finally dislodged it and took my place in front of the oven. I thought back to the tutorial my husband ha

Hailing as I do from Connecticut, I am happy to be associated with the New England Mamas , a group of bloggers from all over our stoically frigid corner of the country. The new site was created to lend a regional slant to a wide array of topics while remaining readable and relevant to readers everywhere. And this week, my friends, just happens to be the official grand opening. If you head over there to read a bit about my ineptitude in the kitchen , you will also have the opportunity to win one of ten prizes offered up as part of the inaugural festivities. Some of the donated items include local favorites like Little New Englander onesies , Brooks Pond car seat/stroller covers , and Yellowhale Photography . We're grateful for the support of all contributing businesses and we're encouraged by each and every reader who stops by. I hope you'll check us out, and I hope you'll like what you find.