Author: Stephanie Wright

The (sort of/sometimes) Annual What We Are Reading Post!

My first grader is a READER. As in READS EVERYTHING. As in I nearly outed myself by leaving her Christmas list out on the desk in plain view because I completely forgot that she READS NOW. Side note: I am a reader, as well. I love to read, always have. Writing and reading are my greatest loves (okay, after other more obvious things like my family, ET CETERA.). But, I still am amazed every day that she can read. That she is six years old and can read words like orchestra. I mean, how the hell does anyone know how to read that? What I’m trying to say is, I love you, teachers. Anyway, so, as she grows, our reading list also changes. So, without further ado, here’s what we are loving right now: The Day the Crayons Came Home: The successor to The Day the Crayons Quit, by Drew Daywalt. If you haven’t read that one yet, get them both. Now. One of them involves being eaten and barfed up by a dog. Your kids will love it. You’re welcome. Laugh-Out-Loud Jokes for Kids: I’ll be honest. This book is torture. She reads dumb joke after dumb joke and I want to poke my eyes out. But! Silver lining: at least they are real jokes. Unlike the ones my four-year-old tells. “Knock, knock.” “Who’s there?” “Potato.” “Potato who?” “Chicken pancake pizza car!” Ugh....

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What can we do?

It is a terrifying time to be alive. The fear is palpable and everyone has the blame squarely placed on someone else’s shoulders. Thanks, Obama. JUST KIDDING. This is a serious post (seriously, no offense to our president AT ALL!), but if you’ve read anything I’ve written previously, you know humor is my defense mechanism. Chandler Bing, anyone? That’s me. Tangent. Tragedies are being shown on what seems like a continuous loop on social media. The news is full of mass shootings, blatant racism, bigotry, political nightmares, what amounts to outright genocide missions, and I don’t know about you, but I feel like I want to round up my VIPs, pool our money and get the eff out of Dodge. Can we buy a small island and just huddle together, safely away from this… this hateful world? Sadly, no. I want to keep my children safe, but I couldn’t, in good conscience, turn a blind eye to this even if it were an option. But, how can I keep living in this chaos? How can I explain to my children what is going on in this world? How can I leave my house with them when just this week a mother was arrested for threatening to shoot up her child’s daycare? This happened in my town. If you want to get particular, in my neighborhood. How in the world...

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Gotta get away

I just returned from a quick vacation with two of my oldest and dearest friends. Years ago, when two of us had newborn baby girls, we declared that, for our 40th birthdays, we would go on a trip together. Just the three of us. Four years went by in both the blink of an eye and an eternity but somehow we found ourselves staring down the barrel of That Age (me first, damn it.) this year. Along the way we’d imagined where we’d go. A dude ranch, a spa, somewhere close to home, somewhere very far away… and ultimately, in July of this year, we kind of haphazardly landed on Jamaica. None of us had ever been, we all had passports we could dust off, and we were all available on four consecutive days. Fast forward last Thursday and we giddily and kind of unbelievably boarded a flight headed for Runaway Bay. Doesn’t it even sound incredible? Runaway Bay. Dear real life, I’m going to be placing you on pause for a long weekend. I’m running away with my friends and just reconnecting with them — and me, honestly. No lunches to pack, no reading logs to sign, no clothes to fold, no uniforms to to remember, no emails to return, no deadlines — just sweet free time to do whatever we felt like doing. It was glorious and just the right...

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I can’t stop this forward motion. Every day my daughters are growing. Unneeded step stools litter the hall. Audrey can feed the fish by herself and Olivia no longer listens to me read to her. Instead, she reads to me. Every new school year just reminds me how fleeting their childhoods are. Four and six. Still so little, but weren’t they just a newborn and 22 months old? Spoon-feeding sweet potatoes and mixing formula? Everyone always says to enjoy every moment and I always feel guilty because there are plenty of moments I have not, do not and likely will not enjoy, but the reason behind the advice rings all too true. It all goes by so fast. My heart is aching and I’m not sure why, even. They are older and (for the most part) really enjoyable girls. They are smart and witty and know what they want. I am so pleased with who they are becoming (for the most part. I can already see the sassy pre-teen I’m in for with Olivia!). So grateful to be their mother. So proud of their ever-increasing independence. Their willingness to take the next leap even when they are scared. But, oh my heart.  I try to soak up as many snuggles as I can. Try to burn into my memory the sound of Olivia’s voice and her lisp which is...

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This girl is on fire

Another installment of five-year-old feminism over here, folks. Honestly, this kid is constantly surprising me and making me proud. Late last year I wrote about Olivia’s struggle with feeling like, as a girl, she couldn’t do certain things that her boy friends could do. I gotta say, that wore on me. I did a lot of fretting and worrying and trying to figure out how best to ingrain in her the belief that she can. Then, the other night, as we were getting ready for bed, she said, “You know, Mommy, there has never been a girl president.” And I thought to myself, oh dear, here we go again. Before I could respond, she added, “…yet.” I told her she’s right. And that just because there hasn’t been one yet, it doesn’t mean there can’t be one. That maybe soon there will be. She smiled up at me and said, “Maybe they’re just waiting for me.”...

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