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Lin Hawthorne

About Lin Hawthorne

https://linhawthorne.com

An American humorist, writer and author. When boiling down the chicken soup of life, she finds those golden, fried nuggets of truth & writes them long after the kids go to bed.

Posts by Lin Hawthorne:

He’s Happiest When He’s Home

This is David Lin, otherwise known as “Mr. Lin,” “Dr. Lin,” “Husband of Lin Hawthorne,” “Son of John and Sue Lin,” “Favorite Son-in-Law” of James and Susan Hawthorne and dad to “Josh, Sam, TJ and Rachel.” Oh… and “dog dad” to Timmy, Toby and Stetson.
 
It’s his birthday today and he’s a lot of things: He’s an excellent photographer and has an eye for detail. He’s a great teacher and off-the-cuff speaker. He spent a year or two in med school learning how to doctor and he likes a good steak. He loves being outdoors and is an accomplished athlete in things including but not limited to fencing, running and volleyball. He plays the piano and violin and incidentally, studied with teachers at the acclaimed Eastman School of Music.
 
But enough about his resume. Let’s talk about his heart. This is “the good stuff.”
He is curious and gentle with as tender a heart as I have ever encountered. Animals and kids love him. He loves Jesus and is devoted to God’s calling on his life as a dad and husband. He is happiest when he’s home.
 
He makes me constantly up my humor game with his great comebacks and one-liners. He’s my number-one idea generator and inspiration for creativity. He keeps his expectations of me set at, “Love me” and “Be Yourself.”
 
He gives everything he has to others for his job, then he comes home and gives some more. He never gives up or shows a hint of disloyalty.
 
Even though we’re struggling right now with family sickness, etc., we plan on celebrating this weekend… and hopefully October when mom and dad can get out again 😉
 

Throw Those Peanuts in Bed

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As part of our dinner entertainment tonight, Josh enthusiastically told us “YOU HIT A HOME RUN!!!!” He got down from the table, “ran the bases” around the island and did a victory dance by his chair.
 
Meanwhile, the peanut gallery threw peanuts at us and declared in whiny voices “I don’t liiiiike it” and “I just don’t want dinner” and “I WANT MACNCHEEEEEEESE!!!!!”
 
One cried in her high chair.
 
Eh, you take the good with the bad. But just because the peanut gallery throws the peanuts, YOU do not veer from your trajectory of serving a perfect medium rare steak, sous-vide and seared to perfection. And piping hot English Cross potatoes.
 
Do not let that peanut gallery steal your Steak joy. Make ’em brush their teeth and throw those little peanuts in bed.
 

Not All Who Wander are Lost

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Hey neighborhood people, if you notice an 8 year old and 6 year old doing laps around the neighborhood, I told them they couldn’t come home until they chatted about one calling the other a “dumpster” and the one decking the other in the head.
 
Do not call the cops (again) . They are not lost.
 
They are learning to communicate with their feet.
 

Robot Wars with Josh

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I got to pick up Josh from baseball practice with zero other kids in the car because Dave got home in time to hold down the fort.
 
These are precious times because I rarely get to be alone with my oldest. It was a hard day of momming because it’s the end of the week of a “break” (haha) and I’m dragging… feeding 20 meals a day, coming up with “fun” stuff to do when all I want to do is take a nap the second I wake up in the morning. Go back to school, kids. Mama needs her nap. Definitely short-tempered, scatterbrained, irritated at all the little people and about five steps behind keeping up with all of the chores and dishes that never end.
 
I looked at that little boy in his baseball outfit in my rearview mirror.
 
Me: “Hey Josh, is it hard some days to be a kid?”
 
Him: “Yeah. Yeah, it really is.”
 
Me: “It was hard today being a mom.”
 
Him: “I know.”
 
Me: “I know, you know.”
 
Me: “I’ll try again tomorrow.”
 
Overexplaining makes Josh uncomfortable (as does overapologizing). So I smiled at him, knowing the matter was settled.
 
Me: “How about lets get stuffed on some pizza and watch ‘Robot Wars’ until we fall asleep.”
 
Josh: “It’s ‘Battle Bots,’ mom.”
 
And we both chuckled because I never get the name right. But between you and me, I do it on purpose, now.
 
And I know, that he knows.
 
#oldestkid #battlebots #hardbeingakid #writingforlife #momstagram #daysarelongyearsareshort #momswhowrite #mommynap

She Was My People From the Start

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Just met another mom at the park.
 
Some people you meet, you know are one-off friends. You have a pleasant, but polite conversation and you go your separate ways when it’s time for naps.
 
This blessed mom walked right up to me and didn’t even TRY to fake that everything was fine and she was doing great.
 
She had a three year old and a 3 month old. Of course she wasn’t great. She was barely staying awake and shuffling through life.
 
I knew she was my people from the start.
 
She stared at my crew with her mouth agape.
 
“How in the world are you doing it?,” she breathed with a lilting Caribbean accent.
 
I chuckled. “Some days I only halfway ‘do it.’ And some days I do belly flops. But with God’s grace… I keep at it.”
 
We began talking like it was a conversation we had left off five years ago and picked right back up again.
 
We only had five minutes to chat before my kids needed me and hers started breaking down. Which is usually how it goes.
 
But this time, I went out on a limb and invited her over to my “messy, messy house” for some coffee. Those exact words.
 
There is a time when you have to buckle down and turn your eyes inward so hard just to plug all of the holes in the sinking boat. God honors that time and uses every bit of it for His glory.
 
And there is also a time when you can spare a few fingers and plug the holes in someone else’s boat. Or at least, you can train your kids to grab some buckets and start bailing 😉
 
Besides, no one cares about a messy boat when they’re on a dinghy next you going straight into the Bermuda Triangle.
 
As the season turns and we can shove the kids out of the house again to run the neighborhood, I might have another “neighbor” who will sit with me in the muck and share this life, slapping at the mosquitos that appear before it gets too cold.

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