Long Days, Short Years, Stiff Drinks

I knew this day was coming. It looms large in its approach each year. But this year, the third, was different. Even until yesterday I thought I would get through it more upbeat, more positive, more grateful than the two years before. Riding on a big emotional high will do that for you. We just got back from a long weekend celebrating the marriage of two people we hold so dear. It was, hands down, the most spectacular event I've ever had the pleasure of attending. Set on the stunning Amalfi coast. Surrounded by family. Forging new friendships with people who span the globe. Communicating without words when our languages didn't allow for conversation. Eating and drinking like royals. And, best and highest of all, witnessing the union of a couple whose love and appreciation of life and generosity to others knows no bounds. Simply put, magnifico! Prior to that I got to spend a little time with my mom and step dad, who came all the way up to our new home in Indiana to take

If you've already survived the "Terrible Twos" and the wrath of a typical "Threenager" than you know how charming it can be to experience impressively violent fits of utter frustration and melodrama more suited for Shakespeare than the stage of your life. Our youngest is one month shy of four years old and let's just say that he is going out of this particular phase with an Earth (and ear drum) shattering bang. It's become incredibly easy to reduce him to tears, shouts, tantrums, and stomps. Just when things seem to be coming to a calm and peaceful state, we are sidelined by an over the top reaction to a most mundane action. Such as: -Cutting his fried egg into bites before he sits down at the breakfast bar. This is, apparently, only acceptable after the back end hits the barstool. -Leaving the bed (the one he far too indiscreetly climbed into for the 8 millionth night in a row) before he wakes up and dare to attend to your older child who has