Happy Blogiversary to Us!

Here we are, dear readers. One year. 365+ posts. 50,000 plus hits. New friends. Old friends. Faithful readers. A lot of memories. More to come.

Just like one year ago when we began, I’m not sure where Piperism is going next. If parenting has taught me anything, it’s not to assume I have anything figured out. The minute you do, change happens. It’s inevitable. This moment matters. This one. I’ll keep blogging. One post at a time. I’m grateful to have you along for the ride.

And since it’s our one year blogging anniversary, let’s take a little trip down Piper lane.

Here are your favorite posts (based on number of hits) from the last blogging year:

Hold On. We’re Going Gaga


Drunk Dialing or Something Like It

Grumpy Naked Guy

Dear Katy Perry

And here is mine:

I’ll Stop the World and Melt With You


Snow Falling From Sissy

Courage Comes in Small Packages

Burning Our Regrets

And you? What’s your favorite post? What piperism made you laugh out loud? Share!

Katy Perry Piper 2

Post Piperism? What’s Next?

I’m not really a blogger. A year ago I didn’t even know what a blogger was. I’m a writer and this blog belongs to the Piper. She’s the star. And she gives me plenty of material. That you choose to read it flatters me beyond words. That you’ve embraced the joy that is Piper and laughed a long with me fuels this blog every day. That I’ve learned so much about the process of writing and captured so many of the details of our family’s year is just icing on the cake. I’m grateful, and I’m starting to wonder what’s next.

We’ve reached more than 40,000 hits. Sissy and I have written 250 posts. That means we have about 100 left to complete our 365 days of piperism. Here are a few of the things Piper’s taught me a long the way:

Piper Dharma

I’ll Stop the World and Melt With You

When I Look Up I Just Trip Over Things

Courage Comes in Small Packages

So, what do I do once I reach my goal? What happens to piperism? Do we start a new blog? A new project? Do we hit print and put this project on a shelf to pull down one day when Piper says ‘tell me what I was like as a kid’? Thoughts?

I’d love to hear from you. So would Piper.

This Will Hurt Me More Than It Hurts You

Some punishments I dole out end up punishing me more than them.

We’ve had a rash of vitamins making their way to the carpet rather than people’s mouths. I picked up seven from the kitchen floor last night while vacuuming. I’m not sure if I’m more worried about the missed nutrition or if I’m pissed about the expensive dye-free, sugar-free, vegetarian, whole foods waste. Probably the latter.

I ranted before I’d had time to process.

“The next time I find a vitamin on this floor, there will be no tv for a week!” I shouted. If I was a superhero, I’d be Vacuuming with Venom. You should never vacuum angry.

I said it out loud. Now I have to do it, right? I hate that part of parenting. There’s no space for my emotional rants and retractions. Geez. As if I have any clue what I’m about to say before I say it.

The threat is working, though. Piper has appointed herself the keeper of the vitamins. She’s supervising Sissy for once. “I have an idea,” Piper told me this morning crawling in bed next to me. “I’ve been thinking a lot about the vitamin problem. I can’t go a week without tv. Why don’t we eat the vitamins as soon as they’re put on our plates? That way we don’t wait and accidentally drop them on the floor.”

Brilliant. Clearly, the punishment fits the crime.

Things That Make You Go Roar!

At dinner last night Piper asked about her baby self. She says she can’t remember it at all. “I try really hard,” she said,”but I can’t remember anything.”

We told her she was smiley and easy going, which is mostly true. We told her how much she loved seeing her sister. Piper lit up like a candle whenever she heard Sissy’s voice. We told her she slept best amidst noise (she spent 9 months growing inside me in a high school classroom) and cried when it was too quiet. She wasn’t a fussy baby, but we knew when something was really wrong. A Piper has always figured out how to get her needs met. We described her bald baby head and her amber brown eyes. We told her that she rolled over at two weeks, walked at nine months, but hardly spoke a word until she was two.

We didn’t tell her how many times she scared us, like when she stopped breathing and the paramedics had to come or how she came into the world wrapped tight and blue in her umbilical chord. We didn’t mention that her acid reflux was so bad she hardly slept the first year and woke up gurgling a lot. She doesn’t need to know about the time Sissy brought home the flu, and we were so sick that I just laid in the middle of the living room nursing Piper because I couldn’t get up off the floor. And she won’t remember when she climbed up into her high chair and fell, splitting her teeth through her bottom lip and I sat in the emergency room all night with her asleep in my lap waiting for stitches.

We told her she’s always been a joy, even when she roars.

A History Major in the Making

Sometimes Piper is anti everything. It’s part of her charm. She comes by it honestly.

Last weekend on our road trip back from the beach, we stopped off in Colonial Williamsburg for lunch. As a history major, I’ve always wanted to see it: the historic buildings, actors dressed in colonial garb, carriage rides, battlefields. So cool!

“Look at that old building! Gosh that’s old!” I said.

“I hate old,” Piper responded.

“How can you hate old? All that history!”

“I hate history.”

“Oh! Look at those people dressed up as colonisits! Can you imagine living like that?”


“I hate colonists.”

Bah Humbug.

Reminds me of the time my family drove to Truman’s house for a tour and I refused to get out of the car. Because I was reading Truman’s biography and couldn’t stop. It made perfect sense at the time.


Piper’s Picks

We’re halfway there, dear readers. I pledged 365 piperisms and we’ve made it through more than half the year. 36,000 hits. 205 posts. 761 comments. You people must be either really bored or completely enamored with the Piper. Me, too. We’re grateful.

In honor of our halfway mark, Piper and I spent some time going through the blog. She loves to laugh at herself. Isn’t that a great lesson? “I’m really funny, aren’t I?” Piper said, curled up at my side as we scrolled. Modest, too. Are you taking notes?

“Which ones are your favorites?” I asked.

Piper didn’t even hesitate. “Sissy Blogs.”

So, here you go. Piper’s picks:

Guest Blogger: Sissy

Guest Blogger: Raoul Dahl a.k.a. Sissy

Guest Blogger: Big Sister, Age 9

A Rainbow of Fruit Flavors

Thanks for reading!


My father-in-law sent me this picture yesterday and asked if I remembered the moment.

I can’t say that I do. I know it’s Piper. I think it’s our house in Florida but it could be Illinois, too. I know that she looks around a year old, so we were packing our house. Again. I know I was still nursing her.  I know I’d quit a perfectly good job that I loved to be home with her, which required another cross-country move so that her Daddy could support us. But I don’t really remember. The lean years of juggling babies, bills, and school on graduate student stipends are a blur, mostly. I’m glad for the picture. I’m glad I let Piper drag everything from the cabinets and explore. I’m glad I let her crawl on the dishwasher for fun. I’m really glad she didn’t break it because I know we couldn’t have afforded the repair. I’m glad I was there even if my memory wasn’t.

I asked my partner if he remembered it. He agreed that that time was a blur. “We let her do that?” he asked.

“Apparently, you did,” Sissy agreed.

Piper peered in for a closer inspection. “That baby is misbehaving,” she said. “Where’s her mama?”

I was there. Right there. Even if my mind wasn’t.

Sure, Come On In

Piper is well known for her hospitality. Good, bad, or otherwise. We’ve enjoyed a record number of house guests this year. 50 and counting. It must be that we live in hub of all happening things because it sure ain’t my cooking. Regardless of why they come, they come. We have guests in our home or visitors in our town almost every single week. They keep coming back, too. Even our chaos is better than $300 a night hotel room.

Piper and Sissy love it. They love making up the big bed in the guest room and picking out a book to leave on the night stand. They love designing a “fun schedule” for each visitor. They love bounding down the steps each morning and waking our guests up (sorry about that, friends). They think we have guests entirely for their pleasure.

Yesterday, Piper’s play mate, Alex, came over. Piper met her at the door and said, “Do come in” as she bowed like the butler. “How can we make you comfortable, Alex? We’re here to help.”

Alex just stared. “Um,” she said, “where are your toys?”

Sometimes the pressure of hospitality becomes too much, though. Piper can’t be on her best behavior all the time, you know. The last time her cousin Charlotte stayed with us Piper and she bunked together. Charlotte drifted off to sleep peacefully, but I found Piper with her eyes wide open glaring at her sweet cousin. “I don’t know, Mom,” she said, “I keep thinking really bad thoughts.” The high price of staying in our home is accepting Piper as alpha. It’s futile to resist.

Last week one of my former colleagues passed through town with her adorable two-year-old, Flynn. We invited the family downtown for some outdoor music and fun. There was ice cream, rock climbing, dancing. Piper and Flynn wanted balloons, of course. They got them, of course. The play got a little rough. Flynn may or may not have broken part of P’s balloon tiara. We stood in line for a replacement. Then she generously awarded Flynn with the deflated remainder of the broken balloon tiara. Flynn’s face lit up like Christmas. Piper’s hospitality is only rivaled by her charity.

To Cut or Not to Cut

Piper and I were reading a book last night in which a little girl cut her own hair.

“I would never do that, Mommy,” Piper promised.

“That’s good to hear,” I said. “People who cut hair have special training so they know how to do it.”

“Anna said her mom cuts her hair.”

“Well, maybe she has special training.”

“I don’t think so,” Piper said. “It doesn’t look so good. My teacher said Anna should go to a barbecue next time instead.”