Amy Writes

Weeks have passed - maybe even months - since I have felt "inspired enough" to write something. Well, something greater than 422 characters. I did think once last week that I should write up a little piece on my admiration of root beer. But lately, in my ever-accelerating life, every passing essay idea of merit ends up as a facebook status. It's lazy man's writing. I got a Kindle for Christmas. I didn't want a Kindle for Christmas. But now I can't put my Kindle down. At first, I was delighted to find that I could use it to play games. The compulsive, addictive kind of find-a-word games with levels enticing you to go ever faster and ever higher and think of oneself as ever superior, engrossed in your book-sized screen while the kids in the other room maim each other with their Christmas toys. This was not an activity that I could feel good about. But then, glorious day! I discovered that I had access to everything that my parents - the bestowers of the Kindle ...

I took my daughter to see Annie this weekend. It was a production put on by my high school, so I knew it would be good. ( No, really. My high school produces some pretty incredible shows. ) I knew it would be good. I knew we'd have a good time. I knew she'd sing along and be enchanted by the kids on stage. I knew we'd be a little bit moved. But what I didn't expect was what would move me. See, I enjoy both the benefits and drawbacks of living in the shadow of my alma mater. Benefits: I get to see people I know, often. And I can send my kids there. Drawbacks: I have to see people I know, often. And I can send my kids there. So I dressed for the evening expecting to see people I knew. (Always opt for the slimming when heading back to high school.) And it happened. It happened at the ticket window (classmate) and in the bathroom (Latin teacher) and near the programs. (very extended family) It happened when we took our seats (preschool teacher) and then when the lights d...

I have a five year old. That is, WE have a five year old. For five years now, my life has more or less been about keeping this small person (and the subsequent small person) alive. And healthy. And happy. For 25 years, life was about us. Then March 7 came. We had celebrated our 3rd anniversary on Wednesday with a dinner at Carrabba's. I had another 3 weeks to go, we thought. At my weekly appointment on Thursday, the doctor had different news. Better news. "You're SURE you're not feeling any contractions or anything? Because you're between 3 and 4 centimeters...Go home, start timing, and I'll see you soon." We checked in at 4:30 the next morning and our first daughter was born by 11. I don't know if you've had the experience of being the main player of an attraction who is treated as if she isn't in the room, but it's pretty weird. I wasn't with it enough to ask a lot of questions but I heard things like "prolapse" and ...