I decided Karsten needed his own post of cuteness.















Was I right, or was I right?

Every year around Mikko's birthday
(usually on),
we walk out to the beach
for a special silhouette photo shoot.

Here's this year's,
with three children standing.

Previous years:



All five of us

The other day, nine-year-old Mikko was intrigued by our returning something to Home Depot. "Are they giving you cash back? Can I have the munz?"

I said: "Normally, I'd tell you that it belongs to me, but I'm tempted to now that you've made up a new nickname for money."

"Oh, sure, Mama," he said. "Money has lots of nicknames. Munz. Carrots."

I was having trouble driving from laughing at this point.

"You're right that money has a ton of nicknames, and those are none of them."

Recently I was talking with a nanny who was telling me why the kids she cares for ended up with Sesame Street shoes. She was apologetic in explaining it: It was all they had left! They were on clearance, in their size, so we had to make do!

Meanwhile, she full knows my kids are nearly always in head-to-toe character-branded nonsense: My Little Pony Crocs, Minecraft and Five Nights at Freddy's and Star Wars T-shirts, Spider-Man and Power Rangers hoodies, plus assorted accessories. As if I would be judging her.


When I grew up, I wasn't allowed to wear characters. Well, that's too strong, but my mother "didn't care" for such fashion choices, and I was persuadable, so I had my Wonder Woman Underoos to wear in private but very demure and girly clothing to wear above.

Before I had children (and this is possibly the idealistic realm in which my nanny friend resides), I assumed their clothing would be similarly character-neutral. Not for me the Thomas the Train shirts and Elmo hats and Caillou sandals (I'm just making things up now). I eschewed even hand-me-downs and gifts that featured recognizable brands. My kids would wear cute things that wouldn't date them in photographs to a particular cultural period, clothing that was bright and whimsical and classically childlike.


And so it went…until my first child developed opinions.

Alrik recently turned five years old. Maybe this engendered a sense of impending mortality, because he's been talking daily about how he doesn't want to die, and doesn't want me to die, and doesn't want family members or pets to die, or really anybody.

I think there are two types of people in this world: those who fear death constantly, and those who kind of push it out of their minds to think about occasionally but not obsess. I am one of the former group. Apparently so is my son, despite my efforts not to pass along the useless anxiety.

I didn't realize it would start so young.

Alrik, being young, though, came up with a great idea: I'm a scientist, or so he tells me, and I can make a potion to keep us from dying. I'm not sure if that makes me more a witch than a scientist, but I'll take either unearned title.

Perhaps strangely for being a parenting blog, one of my most enduring and popular posts is the one I wrote bemoaning "chub rub" or inner thigh chafing in skirts. Apparently we are not alone, sisters (and/or brethren), in having our thighs touch!

If you're irritated by your bare thighs rubbing together and producing a rash while you walk, be irritated no more. Do not mourn your lack of the elusive thigh gap: Just figure out the best thing to wear to stop the rub. Here is my best roundup of (now) tried-and-tested ideas for preventing and treating the dreaded thigh chafe.

Best thigh-rub solutions for SKIRTS and DRESSES, knee-length or longer:

My current favorite under-skirt solution (I'm wearing it while writing this post!) is cheap and comfy and available in a large range of sizes. Good on all counts, right?


They're Danskin Now Women's Bike Shorts from Walmart. I'd resisted bike shorts because I was imagining sweaty, shiny spandex horrors (no offense, biking folks — that's just not what I want encasing my nethers every day), but these are cotton jersey so they're breathable. They're just compressing enough to feel smoothing, but they don't press on my folds or make me feel like I'm being sausage-rolled. The cuffs are just tight enough not to roll up, and the length is great to prevent all thigh rash.