By Megan A good friend of mine, Alice, recently mentioned that she’s reading Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House on the Prairie series to her four-year-old son. She’d told him about the book and sat down to read to him, allowing him to continue playing with some toys as she did so. She said he played for just…
Category Archives: Megan
And Then She Put Him to Bed in a Drawer (She Didn’t Get That Part from Me, I Swear.)
By Megan “Wait Mama,” Bean called after me as I trotted toward the elevator at a Lexington, Kentucky hotel, an overnight stop on the drive home to Chicago from coastal Carolina, “Let’s sit down for a minute.” So we found a sofa in a quiet corner of the lobby and sat. Baby boy Peabody stood…
And also, I no longer subscribe to all the parenting magazines.
Special thanks to one of my bloggy heroines and my friend-in-real-life Lisa@Take90West. She’s a busy Mom to four and one of the most genuine, sweet people I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. I know y’all are gonna love her as much as I do, and I bet most of us can relate fully to one…
“Um, Maddie’s Mom?” she said awkwardly, “Would you care for a deviled egg?”
By Megan It’s the reason I want Mama cards. Well, the main reason. Has this ever happened to you? Every week I take Bean to her little music and imagination class at the local rec department. And every week I sit outside the class, which is held in the rec center’s cafeteria, on this long…
Oh, And the Powerball is 42.
By Megan So, if you’ve happened by my home blog FriedOkra since Thursday, you’ll recognize a few of the events of this post. Apparently I’m something of a psychic, because no sooner had I hit publish on it than a boatload of roto-cooties invaded Bean, and Peabody just gave up sleep altogether, once and for…
1-800-222-1222 (Poison Control Center’s National Number)
By Megan I’ve never had to call the Poison Control Center before. I suppose I was naive in thinking I might get through parenthood without ever dialing the number up there in the title line, my hands shaking, my voice a quivering combination of tears and terror. This weekend, though, that hideous nightmare woke up…
Peabody’s First Love Letter
By Megan Dear Peabody, I never thought I’d have a son. Never imagined myself mothering a real-live man-in-the-making, so you’ll forgive my rather befuddled awe at your perfect boyishness and your inexplicable charm. I’m new at this. New to the heavenly but solid feel of your flesh in my arms, new to the way your…
Top Ten Ways the First Year of Parenting is Like Freshman Year at College
10. The first few days feel like the coolest, most awesome thing that’s ever happened to you, but about a week in, you realize, “HEYWAITAMINUTE! OHMYGOSH. This is gonna be HARD.” 9. You have to learn to appreciate someone else’s idea of good music. And listen to it over and over again from midnight to…
I Wonder if Peabody Will Love Playing with Lincoln Logs. A Girl Can Hope, Right?
By Megan As I read Cassie’s post, Worst Mother Alive over the weekend, I was touched with empathy, as many of you were, obviously, judging from the comments you left for her. We’ve all been there, haven’t we? Let’s face it, as much as we love our children and as fortunate as we are to…
Embracing the Unknown, But Knowing the One Who Knows
By Megan My sweet husband sent me away overnight to a spa last night, sort out of the blue, with zero regard for my blogging commitments, darn him, so I’m posting from my archives today. I am not, let me repeat, I AM NOT PREGNANT AGAIN. Thank you and have a wonderful day, y’all! “God,…