Posts Tagged ‘family’

introducing Mac 3

May 12, 2015

As an aunt (with a blog), it’s my proud duty to introduce Mac 3.


Mother (Sister J) and baby (Mac 3) are resting comfortably while the rest of the family squeals and cheers and exudes excitement over text message and, cause I can’t help myself, Twitter.

Mac 3’s fighting stats are 8lbs, 12oz in weight and 20in in height and as of 8:54 this morning, she joins her older siblings Baby Mac (5) and Bubba Mac (3). She’s shorter in length than both her siblings (at birth), but heavier than her brother (at birth), so let’s see if this gal can live up to her nickname, which is an unintentional riff off Mach 3. It should give her some much needed momentum to keep up with her brother and sister. And if the fact I can’t stop giggling over her online nickname is any indication, she’s going to have a wicked sense of humor.

In addition to all that, she shares a middle name and birth order with me, so at 4 hours old, she’s already a rock star.

Aunt Abby x6

tuesdays with maga

February 28, 2015

every week, every tuesday i talk to my grandmother. she lives in colorado. the more we talk, the more i realize how eerily similar we are. there’s the chasing of sunsets and handwritten letters and calls to say thank you for thank you note and despair upon seeing buckets of snow falling from the sky and wondering how the tiny clouds could hold so much and the exhaustion of winter and the gigantic never ending impossible wish for family to be closer to combat the bone deep ache of loneliness.

could this all be genetic or did she teach her habits to my mother and my mother taught them to me?


January 22, 2015

sometimes hitting “call” is the hardest button because the vulnerability needed was choking me. i hit the button with shaking fingers and was met with kindness.

“talk to yourself like you would a friend. you wouldn’t tell your friend to eat junk or stay up at all hours or keep doing the thing(s) that are stressing them out.”

“just because you disappoint someone doesn’t mean you did anything wrong. sometimes it’s on them.”

“it’s a response. tell your body you’re in control. it’s okay to feel, but remind yourself the overdose of feelings isn’t necessary or permanent.”

“this is a good step, but there are phases. you need to find your new normal and if you find you need to go back, that is more than okay. you’re okay.”

the advice she gave me was heartfelt, hard won, and honest, but it was more about the way she prioritized me in between her hectic hours as a mom, a wife, and a woman. it’s not often i reach out, so i was fortunate she grabbed hold because the dose of love she prescribed was filled and taken over the course of one phone call.

hugs and thank you notes

January 7, 2015

in the battle to capture and keep a 4yo’s attention, i told her when it was my turn for a goodnight hug, i expected 12. she obliged and then asked for 17 more. i requested her assistance in counting. she obliged and asked for 25 more. we counted and snuggled and giggled. she asked for seventy-ninety more. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 hugs in rapid succession, a long 7th one, 8, 9, 10, 1112131415163059867 blurred slurred blended 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 plus a good night kiss to seal the deal.

my west coast family sends the most amazing thank you notes which makes my word-loving self warm. my name appears in a bold splash of crimson at the top and within each of the hand folded parts, a family member’s handwriting appears. my niece and nephews’ ages are unveiled by the size of their letters. the truth of their thoughts bleeds through from the heavy weight of their pencils (plus brother G and sis in law M detailed their kids’ reactions).

re-reading the letters and remembering the seventy-ninety hugs will keep me cozy these frigid winter nights.


December 5, 2014

sister J sent this picture:


along with this note: “I have learned your lesson that feet should not come into contact with immovable objects.”

i TRIED to complain and moan and sob about the pain of this lesson, but she went and had to educate herself. hopefully santa will bring her snazzy socks in addition to my cane, which i’ll let her borrow.

readers: may you learn from these two mumfords…and bubble wrap your feet on a daily basis.