My friend Brooke was saying how it’s the days she’s feeling insecure that she really wants her daughter’s clothes to match, as if her daughter looking put-together will cover from the world the fact that things are sometimes chaotic at home.

And so, I retroactively try to convince myself that it was with confidence I sent/continue to send my mismatched Mia out into the world, so often so, in fact, that a friend once commended me with, “I watch her come out of the school and I just think, ‘Good for Erin, not worrying how her daughter is dressed. I wish I could be like that.’ ”

My response? “Uhhhh…”

Yesterday at Target, you better believe I was repeating to myself, “I am not an insecure mom. I am not an insecure mom” as I let Daphne buy these shoes for Easter.

Cuz good gracious they are ugly, but man does she love them. They are modest, she can walk in them, they are not my shoes, she should totally enjoy them. But man are they ugly.

And as she wears them on Easter and probably every Sunday thereafter, I will be silently repeating to myself until I can believe it: I am not an insecure mom. I am not an insecure mom.

conversations at Christmas

Little Missy: Mommy, so you didn’t buy Daddy anything for Christmas?

Me: No…

Hubby: Love.

Little Missy: That doesn’t really count.


Baby Chickadee, after taking a deep inhale as she stood among the torn wrapping paper on the floor: I smell Cheatham.

[Cheatham happens to be my family of origin.]


Little Missy: It’s weird cuz we [the Fox children] don’t really fight on Christmas Day.

Me: Because you have peace and gladness in your hearts?

Little Missy: We only fought like… 5 times today. Which is not very much for us. Cuz usually we fight like 15 times a day!


G: … And so Grady and I decided to act like grown-ups and then the kids [who were playing a running and screaming game of hide-and-go-seek] wouldn’t notice we were there. So we talked about grown-up stuff. First we talked about falling gas prices, and then a little bit of politics, and then the presents we’ll buy kids someday.

when the logic isn’t quite there

Baby Chickadee, in song: And you can’t fall if you’re a raindrop, and you can’t float until you’re a raindrop. Raindrop.

Little Missy: Hey Baby Chickadee, whatcha singin’?

Baby Chickadee: Just a song I made up. Called “Choo-choo Train.”

Little Missy: Well, no, um, Baby Chickadee it should be called “Rain.” It shouldn’t be called “Choo-choo Train” because it’s not about a train.

Baby Chickadee: It’s my song, so NO, Little Missy, I can sing what I want.

Little Missy:

Baby Chickadee, in song: And then the raindrop fell on a choo-choo train. Ah ah ah.

present idea

Our little girl is obsessed with pregnant girls. She and I go out of our way at Target to see the pictures of the pregnant models in the maternity section; she prays and thanks God for Mary (since she’s the ultimate once-pregnant girl); she watched the Today show with me in the spring and summer to see the girl with the baby in her tummy (who is now dead to Baby Chickadee since “the baby already camed out”); she tells me at different times during the day that she is pregnant, then that the baby already camed out, and that she has 10 kids at home, all while nodding and bouncing a baby on her hip.


And then there are lots of times she dances around with a baby in her tummy, and her mom has to record it for posterity with grainy cell phone pics.


And then she falls asleep with the baby in her tummy, cuz carrying a baby in your tummy is exhausting, as all of us moms know.


So this year for Christmas I thought, Hey! Let’s buy the girl a pregnant doll! They’ve gotta have those right?

They do.

And here’s what they look like:


Slightly terrifying, no?

But just in case you want one for the little girl in your life, here’s where to buy one.

You’re welcome.