I love when I find little hand-written notes weaved into my work notebooks. From my Emily.

Betwixt tasks like “Build s’mores hub” and “Pregnancy blogger” and “Metro edits—today!” there are lovely messages that say “LUV U SO MUCH!” and “I miss your pretty face when you are off working” and “You are my best friend” and “hope you are having a fun day” with the i dotted with a heart, Stacey McGill style.

Even though try as I might I cannot get this girl to read a Baby-sitters Club book, even though I have a shelf of 132 books, plus 36 mysteries and 15 super specials, thanks to my childhood and ten years at Scholastic. No, she’s content to spend her time reading Lostpedia, trying to figure out what’s happening on LOST and reading InStyle magazine. She’s an almost-6th grader—we fight our battles around here. I’m just thankful that she agrees to wear tank tops underneath her crop tops (*shudder*) without storming off to her room, slamming her door, and screaming that I’m the worst mother in the world. So you can see why I’m not forcing her to read—tweenagers are ticking time bombs, man.

Ticking time bombs who always want to go to the mall. 

But the notes she leaves me?

Pieces of perfection right there.

They are seriously the best surprises.

I sit at my desk at work and think about how I wish I could be spending these sunny summer days with her, gossiping about boys and curling each other’s hair.

But in reality, I’m actually sitting at my desk working my nuts off, and stressing about all the last-minute things I need to do before I send my baby to ANOTHER COUNTRY to go to summer camp ON WEDNESDAY. Where do I buy her US stamps in Canada? Not stamps to send mail TO the US, but stamps for her to put on her envelopes to send mail FROM Wisconsin TO me in Canada. Where do I find plain white underwear that isn’t, like, Bubbie underwear? Where can I find her nice one-piece bathing suits that don’t look like she belongs on an olympic swimming team and don’t cost a fortune and are not NEON? Where does one even buy camp stationery? Where can I find her flannel pj pants in 105-degree heat? Does she really need rain boots?

How am I going to slip little hidden notes into her duffel bags so she, too, can get a few of those little surprises too, and know, in her heart, how much I miss her pretty face when she’s off having fun at summer camp?

And, you know, how I’m going to slip some Baby-sitters Club books into her bags…just in case?

Come see me in other places!

This week I’m at Mamapop, talking about Jenny McCarthy on the cover of Playboy. She’s a mom! She’s 39! Why do we care?

This week I’m at YummyMummyClub talking about how to wear jorts without looking like an a-hole and talking about Kate Middleton: Royal Recycler—of clothing.