Dana Burland

On Tuesday I held my grandma's hair back and carefully drew on her eyebrows for her. Small flicks of gray crayon on crinkled paper skin. I touched up her nails. We sat at the kitchen table and ate good chicken salad. And cried. Grandpa died last week. He was 95, and lived about 94 of those years pretty well. He was the son of two immigrants from Poland, one (great grandpa Izzy) I knew into his 100s. He had two siblings who were so close together from childhood through old age it was hard for me to tell growing up whose spouse was whose and who was related to me how. They were loud, crazy, quiet, kind and loving. My grandpa, the last three especially. Always.  On Wednesday I wondered what this non-waterproof mascara was going to do. I took an extra heavy breath each time a song about missing someone popped up on the playlist I was listening to while getting ready. I packed a bag of water bottles, Kleenex and a smaller bag of rocks. Grandpa's service is on this day. It's ha...

You have a friend from daycare over to play today. You asked if he could come to our house sometime– or maybe we could go to his! . We’ll work on that inviting-yourself-over social norm later. And here he is. Your friend you play with during the day when we don’t see. You’re clicked into gear. It’s the fastest “mama play with me!” to “mama who?” I’ve ever witnessed. I’m happy. I’m sad. I’m amazed. You’re so big. You’re too big.

My big, bold, need-for-speed 4-year-old crossed an item off his “True Michigander” list this past weekend—he went skiing for the first time! We set him up on some rental equipment and a hands-on lesson from “Coach Gpa”. He’s a total natural! On his first run down he was standing up with skis parallel going unassisted from Gpa to Daddy to Uncle E down the bunny slope. He skied for 2 hours on his first day, ending the day emphatically asking to go up higher on the mountain, to go by himself, and to go FAST! His last two runs down the bunny hill he did all on his own, airplane style (skis parallel and pointed straight down the hill, arms out like wings) alllll the way to the bottom! Can he control himself? Turn? Stop? No, no, and absolutely no. We’ll get there. He had so much fun he went again the next day, for a little shorter of a stint. He totally exceeded my expectations, and better than his ski performance—seeing the thrill and fun on his face just sent me over the top. Ooof, he...