Christmas Wishes

Catie’s wish list is off to an interesting start.


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Born With Style

I have never had a particular sense of style. I wear clothes. I wash them. I wear them again until they basically disintegrate. Though my jeans from college are a bit snug, I wear several of the same tops on a regular basis.

This kid, though….this kid was born with style.


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Hospital Time

My brother is in the hospital for another go round with his heart. This one is not nearly as serious, thankfully. They’re a good family in or out of the hospital.


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Roller Girls

It’s rained for 9 straight days here in Atlanta. Sadly, that’s not even an exaggeration. There is mold everywhere and even the concrete is squishing beneath my feet. (Ok, *that* might be an exaggeration.)

Our neighbor Kevin packed up the girls for a little indoor fun yesterday afternoon. Watch out, Atlanta. These two are brutal on wheels.


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The Cure for Heartbreak

We’ve been fortunate to have a relatively drama-free introduction into the journey of parenting teenagers. Thus far, Emmaline’s greatest love is still soccer (followed closely by roller derby) and her biggest frustrations are when rain closes the practice fields or when her jersey didn’t quite make it through the wash.

Today, though, her heart broke a little.

For three months, she’d looked forward to this date – the day her braces would finally come off. Her orthodontist installed the hardware about two years ago, and the whole day was a bit on the emotional side. She’d followed all the rules, made it to all her appointments, and to my  untrained eye, her teeth look great.

But it was not to be.

I sat in the waiting room, wondering where we’d go for a celebratory lunch and if we’d have time to run through the grocery store before dinner and soccer. After an hour and a half, a tearful little face signaled me to come to the exam room.

Two more months.

So, we learned that sometimes you have an appointment to get your braces off, but instead you have teeth drilled and filed and wires tightened one more time. You might cry in the parking lot. Your mom might tear up just watching your 14 year old heart break. On those days, one must report immediately to Little Shop of Stories, followed by Noodle. It’s the only reasonable plan.


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