I’ve saved every postcard that our family has received since the kids were born. I thought the boys would appreciate having them. 

Stored in a vintage wine bottle basket, they quietly sit on a high bookshelf in my bedroom. 

But I know they are there.

The basket caught my eye this morning and I had to take it down. I spent time with every card and smiled as I remembered the boys’ excitement as they looked at the pictures and I read them out loud…

This year, as he enters his 9th decade, I just want to post the cake I made for him.

Happy Birthday, Dad.

I should have said hello.

But I didn’t.

I should have asked how she’d been. I should have told her she looks so much like her mother did.

But I didn’t.

She couldn’t see me. But I could see her. It’s always been that way. And I let it stay that way today.

I’m not proud.

But I just couldn’t bring myself back to look into the past. Or rather, I chose not to.

Photo credit: http://www.sxc.hu/profile/harrykeely

In a couple weeks, we’re going again.

For no reason.

Just to get a night away and be a couple.

Of course, it’ll be cold this time. But, again, we’ll stay in a Kimpton (a different one this time) and again, we’ll eat great food and sleep late.

It amazes me how hard it is to get time alone together now that the kids are older. When they were young, we had a standing sitter – every other Saturday – and we’d go out.

But now, there’s driving to do, places for the boys to be. Kids here. It’s just way more complicated. Way more.

We all know that to be a good couple, you need time together without the kids. And sitting together in the stands at wrestling tournaments does not count.

photo credit: http://www.sxc.hu/profile/doctor-a

I was checking email. Voicemail. After all, it was during work hours and, though I hadn’t stopped for lunch, I was feeling guilty for taking the half hour to attend to the boys’ dental needs.

I heard the dad say, “I have too much work to do.”

And then, the girl’s whisper stopped me in my tracks.

Why don’t you just tell them, “no?”

And then, without even looking up, he answered. His response was like a punch in the stomach. “I’m responsible for everything. You just don’t understand.”

And I think he was right. She didn’t. She sat, staring ahead. Holding back tears.

I am not going to sit here (while my kids want my attention) and say that I won’t ignore them, work too hard, take on too much.

I probably will.

But this will stick with me. And I’ll keep working on being more present and more available.

Photo credit: http://www.sxc.hu/profile/iwanbeijes

My friend Lisa has been talking about how she wanted to be like a small town doctor since I’ve known her. I am so excited for her and for our community as she launches her new business:

I wanted to let everyone know that at the end of this month I will be happily going back to my career as a pediatrician. I have been searching and waiting for the opportunity that felt right for me. I am excited to have found that now. I am joining a friend of mine from high school named Zee Beams who is also a Pediatrician in Columbia and together we are hoping to create a unique practice with a small “hometown” feel. We plan on restoring the personal touch, which is too often lost, back into medicine. I will be doing my own scheduling and taking phone calls from patients directly, with no nurse triage system or answering service. I will be available by phone, text or email 24 hours a day for all of my patients, including evenings and weekends. I plan on doing home visits for newborns and others as needed. My office will be nearby on Cedar Lane, and I plan on doing all of my urgent care visits myself when at all possible. My hope is that with easy access to my office on weekends and in the evenings, I will be able to avoid visits by my families to urgent care clinics, emergency rooms, etc. I am excited to have a chance to practice medicine the way I have always wanted; please feel free to pass along my name and contact information to anyone you know who might be looking for a pediatrician.

Lisa Laborwit, M.D. can be reached at 410-905-1941 or via email.

If you’re in Howard County and looking for a pediatrician, you’ll love Lisa. She’s amazing.

Spread the word. I hope this is the beginning of a wonderful trend.

Photo credit: http://www.sxc.hu/profile/shilders

As parents, Andrew and my primary goals have been to raise our boys to be independent, free-thinking, productive, and happy. That has always been our dream.

Always.

But maybe I was hasty.

I’d like to revise my wish to independent, free-thinking, productive, and happy as long as they agree with me.

Having teenagers is harder than I thought it’d be.

But every time I saw it, I thought, “One day I’m going to do something with that.”

Fast forward to a really crappy yard sale. (I love yard sales!)

I bought a 28″ x 42″ piece of art for $.50. It was orange and brown owls on faded fabric. Seriously awful. But I thought the canvas stretchers were worth the price. I’d do something with it. Paint over the fabric and do something funky.

And I did paint over the owls. And though I stared at the newly prepared canvas and tried to envision something, nothing came to me. The fabric was too flimsy for painting – even with the new coating.

So it sat in the workshop gathering dust, spiderwebs, and stinkbugs.

Until this:

Notice the upholstery nails in the sides. $1.79 at the hardware store.

I really love it and I knew one day I’d be glad I held onto that potato sack.

But I’m not. Conceited, that is.

Read on.

My hair is the longest it has been since about 1967.

I have to add that I’ve had shorter hair than I bet 99% of you have ever had.

But for most of my life, it’s been up and down – short, shoulder length, short. And somehow, I never really learned how to ‘do’ my hair. Well, not really, anyway. In fact, it was only last year that I learned how to blow out my hair and make it smooth.

And still, I have a pretty simple routine. I don’t buy extravagant product (though I did buy Moroccan Oil on the advice of Rebecca and loved it – though it’s pricey.)

Fast forward to 2011 – I became a BirchBox subscriber. I love getting the samples.

A few months back, they sent some hair care samples and I loved them. My favorite was an oil, kind of like the Moroccan Oil, that gets applied after washing. It made my hair so shiny! But, alas, I ran out.

So when I saw Moroccan Argan Oil Treatment in the store (reasonably priced, I might add), I bought it. Great substitute, I imagined.

Last night, I washed my hair as usual. But before blowdrying, I applied a quarter-sized (or more?) dollop of this great new product on my hair. It smelled divine!

As I dried my hair, I was horrified at the texture. It wasn’t exactly frizzy. More like straw. Yikes. Horrible.

So I used my trusty olive oil sheen spray to calm it down. (Did I mention that before? It is great for a quick smooth-down or shine-up. And before you tell me that I’m not the intended customer for the product, I do know that. But it’s 5 bucks a can that lasts a year or more and, anyway, who cares?)

But back to the point. (There was a point.)

I can’t read jack without my glasses. Seriously, nothing.

But after this unfortunate incident, I got my extra pair of readers out of the bathroom vanity drawer and read the container of Moroccan Argan Oil Treatment. Because, you know what? This product sucks and I might just call the toll-free number.

The directions read:

Scoop a small amount of Organix Moroccan Argan Oil Renewing Treatment into palm and evenly distribute with a wide tooth comb from your hair’s roots down to the ends. Leave Organix Moroccan Argan Oil Renewing Treatment in hair for 3-5 minutes. Product performance is enhanced by placing a shower cap over hair and wrapping cap with a hot, wet towel. Rinse with mild to cool water. For best results, use with other Organix Moroccan Argan Oil products.

So, I didn’t call customer service.

Instead, I vowed to try the product again. And to rinse it out this time.