tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52749822023-11-16T05:20:36.525-08:00Kately DaysKatiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.comBlogger158125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-81699864295977672492015-10-13T19:52:00.000-07:002015-10-13T20:36:51.806-07:00Dear Merritt,Every night for as far back as we can remember, we've told you the same things. "You are kind. You are smart. You are important. We love you bigger than the sky. And we're so glad we get to be your mommas." Sometime back, you requested that we add one more line of your choosing. So now it ends with, "And we hope you had the time of your life at Disneyland." Recently, we've translated the whole Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-28633057759188139632015-08-13T22:03:00.000-07:002015-08-14T11:23:45.855-07:00Dear Merritt,
In the past week we have deep-cleaned all our rugs, customized our plantation blinds, reorganized the garage, cleaned out the refrigerator and wiped it down, and scrubbed doors (like that's even a thing). Why? Because by this time next month you'll be a seasoned kindergartener, and "power cleaning" is how we're dealing with our emotions regarding that.
By this time next month, your Spanish Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-87063360916085029482015-04-13T21:36:00.000-07:002015-04-13T22:31:27.842-07:00Dear Merritt,
You've decided that you have multiple hearts and you swap them in and out for various activities. Sometimes we'll be in the middle of something and you'll abruptly grab at your chest and then explain that you're switching hearts because the new one is better suited for the task. You most often use your "knowing" heart. But that doesn't mean we haven't been exposed to the likes of your "Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-81182094470508600812014-10-13T20:00:00.000-07:002014-10-14T20:58:25.591-07:00Dear Merritt,
You turned five just a few minutes ago. And a few minutes before that, you were born.
How?
How has the sun risen and set over 1,800 times since you first pooped in the bathtub with me? How is it that you uttered "Mah-mee" so emphatically that first time and the world still found a way to keep spinning all these years? How have you been alive for two World Cups and five baseball seasons and Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-14147304390927558502014-04-13T19:52:00.000-07:002014-04-14T14:51:26.378-07:00Dear Merritt,Or should I address this missive to the superhero moniker you requested to be called, but then changed your mind when I put my own spin on it?
Dear Captain AMerrittca,
Congrats on making captain by the age of four and a half!
One early morning recently while we were all in the Mommas' bed, Mommy was still trying to sleep and you and I were whispering. "I'm an expert at talking," you said. Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-44154323723329131742014-01-28T15:52:00.000-08:002014-01-28T15:52:01.018-08:00This Girl Loves Her Wife
Mere hours before an Indigo Girls concert last summer, I whipped up this shirt and wore it. You know. Just in case there was any confusion.
Erin and I recently made a Teespring campaign with the same awesomely generic shirt. And we're one away from hitting our goal and having the shirt go to print and donating a quarter of the proceeds to GLAAD.
If you are a girl and you have a wife Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-13985152314958452872014-01-11T17:25:00.000-08:002014-01-11T17:25:36.070-08:00Things that made me cry today
1. The first bite of this:
My Aunt Deb passed away in October. The last time I talked to her was over three years ago when I came out to her. It didn't feel like the conversation went that well. And since it was the last time we spoke, I think that assessment was fair. But now she's gone and I'm still struggling to wrap my head around it.
I've spent the past two and a half Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-14977840778667957532014-01-01T13:09:00.001-08:002014-01-01T13:09:09.841-08:00In case you were looking for a way to extend the holidays ...Here! Get this song wedged in your brain.
Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-39919492806741946852013-12-31T22:01:00.000-08:002014-01-01T10:05:34.196-08:00Dear Merritt,Tonight we bid adieu to 2013 with one of your favorite meals (BRINNER!) and tomorrow we'll wake up and begin 2014 together. Because let's be honest: We're not staying up to ring it in because you'll be awake mere hours after midnight.
Hopefully we won't have a repeat of Christmas, where you came to our room at 1:45 a.m. and whispered-yelled, "MOMMA, I'M DOIN' THE PLAN!" The "plan" involved Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-84938489328393895592013-10-20T11:04:00.000-07:002013-10-23T11:07:55.923-07:00Dear Merritt,
You are four years and one week old. We can not begin to comprehend this. How have you completed four years of life and entered your fifth? Does. Not. Compute.
We were recently playing in your room and you said, "I know you why you picked me out at the baby store." We often talk about how you grew in my body, so this notion of the baby store was new and somewhat surprising. I asked where Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-2976114258829792762013-09-25T23:18:00.001-07:002013-09-26T00:29:30.788-07:00Happy AccidentsThis house we bought? The previous owner was a hoarder. And a cat lady. And the kind of person who didn't bathe, but instead used the tub as a place to hang-dry her assortment of homemade muumuus, most of them cat-themed.
But that wasn't the only wonder in the main bathroom.
We saw the inside of the house four times prior to our closing date. During the first three viewings (two showings and anKatiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-64758024821786654282013-09-13T00:01:00.000-07:002013-09-13T07:44:15.669-07:00Dear Merritt,
In the five months since you last received a letter, we have purchased a house, made it a home, and allowed a television crew to document the process for a national audience. On a scale of zero to solid, I give it a shaky six as far as excuses for not writing go. While we may not have been writing to you during the hiatus, we've definitely been writing about you.
So we present here a sort Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-51403499651301423642013-08-19T17:06:00.001-07:002013-08-19T17:06:42.442-07:00Basically just posting this for Mrs. FrazierKatiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-80577502079912207662013-06-07T22:04:00.002-07:002013-06-07T22:06:10.184-07:00How Conversations Progress<!--[if gte mso 9]>
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Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-51956814596369884482013-05-03T14:12:00.003-07:002013-05-03T14:12:32.794-07:00Because she asks questions like this:"Did you cook an entire onion for lunch and parade it through the house, Catholic priest style?"
I love her.Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-77662175975169440492013-04-28T12:58:00.001-07:002013-04-28T12:58:56.665-07:00I kind of think of him as my only living grandfather.I hold some--what I believe to be--absolute truths:
Salted peanuts in Coke is the best possible combination of two foodstuffs. Ever.
Sleeping with a fan is the only way to sleep.
Vin Scully is the greatest sports announcer of all time.
But since I understand that in order for these to be "universal," they need to be unalterable and permanent facts, I'm going to let the first Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-56575963938955061882013-04-13T23:59:00.000-07:002013-04-14T23:04:56.788-07:00Dear Merritt,
Today is your third-and-a-half birthday. And we're supposed to be celebrating with cake, but you kicked the dog last night. Like, full-on attempted to punt him through uprights. Which means Mommy and I don't get to gorge on 8,000 calories worth of pumpkin cake today. Thanks for being SO three-and-a-half.
You still had to consume some form of breakfast, and seemed pleased enough with my Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-73028412985159968502013-03-25T08:08:00.000-07:002013-03-25T08:08:46.268-07:00"No, just one 'T,' actually."I was born a Lary, the name my grandfather had to take when joining the Navy. His father was a Lary, but died when Granddaddy was two. His adopted name--the name he was given by the man who raised him--was never made official, and thus wasn't sufficient for the Navy. I should have been a Godwin. Instead, I'm a Lary.
And I'm not even sure what that means. I mean, I know I come from a line of kindKatiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-45312632532199692222013-03-13T23:39:00.000-07:002013-03-14T07:51:44.188-07:00Dear Merritt,
We're going to keep this one short. Like you. Even though you regularly bonk your head on the underside of the kitchen counter's overhang because you're not used to being taller than it. We're not used to you being "tall" either, Bud.
In the last couple of months, you learned "Down Down Baby" at school and now experience outbursts of, "Let's get the 'ribbon' of the head - ding dong" at randomKatiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-82041037763203035182013-02-22T08:32:00.000-08:002013-02-22T08:46:34.447-08:00Dear Merritt,
You are never short on "good ideas," but one of your more recent involves you wanting a bunk bed, along with the invitation for us to sleep on the bottom while you slumber up top. Indefinitely.
Also, that every show should have a Christmas episode.
Aside from being unapologetically left-handed, you also have a neat quirk of counting tokens on your LeapPad2 from right to left. Perhaps this Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-18702354030004469032013-01-17T16:05:00.000-08:002013-01-17T16:05:47.447-08:00It was pretty much the most awful thing I've ever put in my mouth.I hope I'm not giving too much away by the title.
I've finally processed and healed and grieved enough to be able to talk about a meal I prepared back in August 2012.
Mock Tuna Salad. Those three little words held so much hope and promise for this vegetarian. The kind of hope and promise that led me to hold off on making this recipe the moment I found it and instead marinate in the thoughtKatiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-42816047496180282272013-01-16T19:36:00.000-08:002013-01-16T21:11:33.538-08:00A little story
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Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-52305955780528634042012-12-13T23:59:00.000-08:002013-01-13T20:50:09.471-08:00Dear Merritt,
Daily I say, "I love you, you know." And recently you tried to reciprocate: "I love you, I know."
You've started giving options at the end of your questions. "Can I have a snack from the pantry? Yeah? Or YEAH!" Your inflection kills us and you typically end up with two snacks. And a pony.
You're also making strides in conversation management. When I put you to bed one night last month, Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-55533941355922907382012-10-13T19:52:00.000-07:002012-10-14T21:13:07.050-07:00Dear Merritt,
For months, you've been telling anyone who will listen that your birthday is "Octover firteen." And now it is truly almost over. And you are three.
You have an affinity for frozen bread products. A fondness for naming everything "Merritt Scot." And a penchant for detecting baked goods: "My nose smells cupcakes." Brownies. But, yes, you may have one.
PBS may be picking up a new show that Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-85751852334045735092012-10-05T18:11:00.000-07:002015-10-05T07:24:07.589-07:00The 419 Windsor that love built.When I crossed the threshold into the Wilson house for the first time, I was accepted as family. They loved Merritt as their own. It's been incredible to experience their love and acceptance, and inspiring that Erin loves me enough to share them with me. And me with them.
So it's hard to believe that the patriarch of this family has been gone a year.
We spent 10 days there when it happened.Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com1