My firstborn, my oldest daughter, my mini-me turns twelve today. My dancer, my actress, my singer, my LOST addict, my Aritzia-leggings wearer, my Dorothy, my Mary Poppins, my Disney VIP, my chills-giver, my babysitter-in-training, my fashion guru, my ombre-hair coveter, my Taylor Swift lover, my shower concert giver, my dark…
I took ballet as a kid. For ten years. I might have even been good, too, but I’ll never know. Because I quit. Because I was a stupid teenager. It was too hard, too time-consuming. And there was a little not-allowed-to-wear-underpants-underneath-the-leotard situation. When Emily was born and I heard that…
A long time ago, when Miss Emily was just a wee little thing, we received a giant video camera as a gift. Back in 2001—in the technological olden days—when we didn’t have iphones or affordable digital cameras, I would click, click, click my way through a 24-photo roll of film…
