About Becca

Becca was born and raised in North Dakota (the nation's forehead), and  now lives in a small town in Minnesota (the nation's right shoulder) with her two children (son "H.", b.2003, who has autism, and daughter "F.", b. 2008), and her husband, "J."  She attended both North Dakota State University (where she studied sociology), and the University of Minnesota, where she came perilously close to earning a degree in English with a minor in history. She is a writer, stay-at-home-special-needs-mom, and small business owner. Becca can also be found at: beccatown.typepad.com/
Author Archive | Becca

Drivin’ and Cryin’

Recently I’ve had the pleasure of taking some car trips with the kids. It brings back memories of those journeys of my youth, with my sister and I amusing ourselves in the back seat by (1) fighting and (2) sleeping, both of which drove my dad crazy. Of course he didn’t like the fighting, but the sleeping? – he didn’t like us to miss the scenery. Sorry to tell you, Dad, but there are few kids under the age of (...Read More)


The Nanny from Heck

Today was our new summer nanny’s first day on the job. I woke up at 4AM and willed myself back to sleep, only to awaken again an hour later after a bad dream. I got out of bed and finished writing my rather copious notes on the care and feeding of H., detailing his eating and toileting routines, the things he likes to do, and the things to watch out for—including his habit of bolting into lakes and other bodies (...Read More)


Searching for Neverland

Our week starts off like a car leaving the starting line: gathering speed as it accelerates through Monday, gunning the engine through Tuesday to reach the peak on Wednesday, down-shifting then coasting from midweek on and finally sputtering to a stop on Friday. Glorious Friday! My day to be home with my daughter F. Another analogy: Friday is like a jewel, wrapped in cotton and stashed safely away, to be taken out and enjoyed when I have “earned” it through (...Read More)


Nothing to Fear But Millipedes and Lemon Zest

The other day my daughter F. was digging worms in the garden while I weeded. “I found another one!” she shouted every few seconds. That kid knows how to find worms, I thought. Then I discovered that she was merely “finding” successively smaller pieces of the same big worm, which she was chopping up with her shovel. I hid my grimace as she held out yet another hacked off bit of worm for my inspection. I also restrained myself when (...Read More)


Spring’s Hope Eternal

Spring is late this year. There’s still snow on the ground, the trees are bare, and as soon as the temperature rises above forty, people turn up at the grocery store wearing shorts. It’s the midwesterner’s characteristically polite way of giving Old Man Winter the finger. My way is to pour over seed catalogues and landscaping books. I’ve got spring fever in a bad way and “fever” is an apt word. My brain can’t stop humming with ideas for turning (...Read More)