Author: Sarah Anderson

The Growing Up Dance

Several months ago, when reading a book to my four-year-old, I read the word embarrassed. “What’s that mean?” he asked. “It’s feeling like you look silly to people when you don’t want to”, I explained. “Like when I was Winnie the Pooh?” He wondered. I knew exactly what he was talking about. Last Halloween, Asher had been obsessed with a Winnie the Pooh costume and wore it proudly to preschool the day there would be a character parade. But when he arrived in his classroom, suddenly Winnie the Pooh didn’t seem like such a good idea anymore. His teachers...

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The Search For More

Once we had kids my husband and I quickly learned dates were going to look a lot different. We hadn’t realized that before children, every night was date night. Kids complicated things, made the night out—due to babysitting costs—much more expensive. Unless it’s a special occasion, date nights now mean you pick one: movie or dinner. A couple of weeks ago, we were feeling crazy. We decided to do a movie and dinner. Date perfection. But about twenty minutes into the movie, we were feeling disappointed. It wasn’t at all what we thought it would be. As the minutes...

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Bad Days

On a good morning, the bananas I give my boys to eat don’t have any brown spots, the color plate they request is clean, the eggs are cooked just past the sliminess stage, their favorite shirts aren’t at the bottom of the dirty clothes hamper and every request I make of them is followed with a pleasant and immediate “yes ma’am”. On a bad morning, you would think the world was coming apart at the seams. The bruised banana sends one boy into tears. The slimy eggs served on a green plate instead of blue is refused by the...

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What Happens at Dinner

If you were a fly on the wall of my house between 5:00 and 5:30 pm you would observe something that—after some time—you might describe as dinner. You would notice how seemingly haphazard, disorganized, and muddled it was, but at some point, you might be able to discern an actual meal emerging from the chaos. To be honest, dinnertime is not my favorite time. Not with preschoolers. In fact there was a time when when family dinnertime was sacrificed on the altar of our sanity. It required too much juggling, sitting down and getting up, dropped forks, spilled cups,...

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Sibling Warfare

Three years ago, when I found out I was pregnant with my second boy, I was relieved. I already had one, so the immediate thought in my mind was, “I got this. I know boys. This will be my oldest son—version 2.0.” But literally, from the moment I was able to feel my second little guy move, I knew he was, in no uncertain terms, nothing like his brother. Every moment since has confirmed what I suspected then. I may have two boys, but they are their own deal. I have one more sensitive, compassionate, and intuitive. He is...

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